Tag Archives: Tom Piper

APEX PREDATOR

★★

Hampstead Theatre

APEX PREDATOR

Hampstead Theatre

★★

“the entire cast do as much as they can with the raw tools they’ve been given”

Has the time arrived for a new vampire story? John Donnelly thinks so. But unfortunately, his newest play, Apex Predator, can’t quite seem to decide what it wants to be — a commentary on postpartum depression and psychosis, or a horror-comedy about vampirism as an allegory for modern life. In trying to straddle the line between both worlds, it never really succeeds at either.

From the opening moment, we are reminded that London is a city of violence. Not only that, but no one in this city is going to help you, not really. If you expect to survive, you’re going to have to be strong. But Mia (Sophie Melville) is hardly feeling strong at the moment — her newborn, Isla, won’t feed. Her son, Alfie (Callum Knowelden), is being bullied at school. And on top of it all, her husband Joe (Bryan Dick) is sometimes away for days at his secretive job. When he does come home, they mostly bicker. Mia is exhausted. The neighbours are a nuisance, throwing parties with loud music, forcing Mia to bounce Isla to sleep night after night, and Joe seems… well, entirely unbothered by this. If anything, he appears agitated that his wife is having a tough time. Enter Alfie’s new art teacher, Ana (Laura Whitmore), who may just be able to offer Mia a way forward. The premise is interesting, if a bit old hat. How do we protect ourselves, but especially our children, in a world that grows more dangerous by the day? It’s unfortunate that each idea in the script feels under-developed, spawning into some new thread, while we ache for the previous thread to be tied.

Blanche McIntyre’s direction is confusing at times. Moments that feel like they deserve a bit more room to breathe are quite rushed, namely Mia and Ana’s very first meeting. Mia has rushed to Alfie’s school, to assert her son’s right to defend himself — he’s bitten another child, which feels like a bit of a flat pun, given the subject matter — and Ana switches from critical school bureaucrat to close confidante in ten seconds or less. Some dialogue is played for uncomfortable laughs, when the topic at hand feels anything but funny. In one specific moment, Mia runs round and round in circles, trying to find an escape, when there’s a relatively obvious one in front of her — a door that someone else has walked in through, just moments before. Whether this is down to McIntyre or the production’s Movement Director, Ingrid Mackinnon, is difficult to say.

But there are bright spots here. Whitmore is excellent as Ana, despite her character’s somewhat unconvincing arc. Melville is fascinating to watch as she swings between clarity and madness. Truthfully, the entire cast do as much as they can with the raw tools they’ve been given. The lighting and sound design (Jack Knowles and Chris Shutt, respectively) work together quite synergistically, particularly in a very short scene during the second act that evokes a moment from a slick on-screen horror. It’s just a shame that the story as written doesn’t allow for more of these gorgeous vignettes. The set design (Tom Piper) is excellent making great use of a relatively small space, surrounded by imposing scaffolding. The claustrophobia, the grit of a city like London is keenly felt.

All in all, the potential is there. One simply wishes that Donnelly had — forgive me — sunk his teeth in a bit deeper.



APEX PREDATOR

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Stacey Cullen

Photography by Ellie Kurttz


Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE HABITS | ★★★★★ | March 2025
EAST IS SOUTH | ★★★ | February 2025
AN INTERROGATION | ★★★★ | January 2025
KING JAMES | ★★★★ | November 2024
VISIT FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN | ★★ | July 2024
THE DIVINE MRS S | ★★★★ | March 2024
DOUBLE FEATURE | ★★★★ | February 2024
ROCK ‘N’ ROLL | ★★★★ | December 2023
ANTHROPOLOGY | ★★★★ | September 2023
STUMPED | ★★★★ | June 2023

APEX PREDATOR

APEX PREDATOR

APEX PREDATOR

NEVER LET ME GO

★★★

Rose Theatre

NEVER LET ME GO at the Rose Theatre

★★★

“Despite being engaging, it is nowhere near as devastating as it should, or could, be.”

Back in 1997, the most famous sheep in the world grabbed our attention. Her name was Dolly. The first large mammal to be successfully cloned. Obviously, speculation about human cloning rapidly erupted. Fortunately, it has never been legalised, so it has always remained at the speculation stage, revolving around the obvious concerns of ‘playing god’, interfering with the natural order of life, designer-babies, the ‘rights’ of clones and the purpose of cloning. Kazuo Ishiguro took these questions by the horns for his 2005 science fiction novel “Never Let Me Go”, which takes place in an alternative reality at the end of the twentieth century in which human cloning is authorised for the elite as a means of providing vital organs for transplant. The clones are brought up in a boarding school, closely monitored to stay healthy, initially unaware of the purpose of their existence and inevitable shortness of life.

It was a captivating and unsettling story, and one that was always going to be difficult to adapt for other media. The film adaptation, although well received, was criticised for sanitising the subject matter and failing to capture the darkness. Suzanne Heathcote’s stage adaptation is aware of its limitations, so wisely shifts its focus to the more human story. Split into three parts, it starts with the characters at their country boarding school, called Hailsham, before they move into a kind of half-way house (the Cottages), and finally onto the third stage where they are sent to fulfil their purpose, and their organs are surgically removed one by one. The clones usually survive a couple of operations, never more than four. There are ways to prolong this pitiful life; either by becoming a ‘carer’ for other clones or by proving that you are in love and the donations are deferred for a few years (however this latter privilege turns out to be merely a rumour).

Kathy (Nell Barlow) is a ‘carer’, and the narrator of the story – in retrospect. We first see her with a new donor – Maximus Evans’ inquisitive Phillip – some years after Hailsham has been closed down. As Kathy reminisces, the past bursts through the doors of Tom Piper’s cleverly crafted set to swirl around the protagonist, pulling her in and out of the story in waves. Christopher Haydon’s direction makes wonderful use of this device giving us a clear indication of where and when we are. Similarly, the cast deftly shift between adulthood and childhood with their mannerisms and diction adapting to the age of their character.

At its heart is a love triangle. Kathy, Tommy (Angus Imrie) and Ruth (Matilda Bailes) are typical kids at first. Tommy and Ruth form an alliance, but the true attraction is between Tommy and Kathy. One that Ruth tries to put a wedge between. Bailes’ opinionated, slightly rebellious Ruth gives way to regret and remorse, while Imrie’s bad-tempered, big-hearted Tommy rages against the injustices, not so much of love, but of fate. Sitting comfortably in the auditorium, it is near impossible for the audience to envisage how it must be to live this kind of life. Unfortunately, the play doesn’t draw us much closer. Despite being engaging, it is nowhere near as devastating as it should, or could, be. At over two hours long there is plenty of opportunity to cut right into the heart of the subject matter, and its emotional fall out. But the incisions are skin deep, and the true ethical issues are glossed over. The second act is more successful. The deceptions hurled onto the young clones are revealed, which shines a mirror up to society’s alleged treatment of minorities and the subject of exploitation. Susan Aderin, as the hardened and pragmatic schoolmistress, sheds light on the warped reasoning behind the false optimism fed to the clones. But again, the horror gets blurred through the long lens of exposition. Although she convinces us that the clones do have souls like the rest of us, the play, as a whole, lacks a real heart or soul.

Like Ishiguro’s original haunting novel, the play is no less relevant. The title comes from a fictional song within the story. We hear pre-recorded snippets of it, sung soulfully by Marisha Wallace, but are never allowed to let it completely wash over us. “Never Let Me Go”, without a true sense of the love, loss, hope, and desire inherent in the title, doesn’t quite engulf us either. However, we are still given plenty to think about, and can enjoy the challenging conversations it inevitably triggers in the bar afterwards.


NEVER LET ME GO at the Rose Theatre then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 24th September 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Hugo Glendinning

 

 


 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SHOOTING HEDDA GABLER | ★★★★ | October 2023

NEVER LET ME GO

NEVER LET ME GO

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