Tag Archives: White Bear Theatre

THE DAWN OF RECKONING

★★★

White Bear Theatre

THE DAWN OF RECKONING

White Bear Theatre

★★★

“an interesting new play that grapples with big questions of what it means to be human”

In a claustrophobic hotel bar on a foggy night in London, two old university friends meet, some twenty-five years after they lost touch. As the piece unfurls, we learn that medical researcher Helena’s (Bryonie Pritchard) husband left her for her university friend, children’s illustrator Ruth (Jilly Bond), fracturing their previous relationship apparently beyond repair. The characters slowly realise that the apparently chance meeting was engineered by their late, shared (ex-) husband Tony for the reading of his will. The Dawn of Reckoning is a new play written by Mark Bastin and directed by Matthew Parker, that seeks to explore the enduring guilt of the missteps and misfortunes that mark our lives, as well as the enduring power of friendships forged in the early days of adulthood. It asks whether second chances are possible and how we can forgive ourselves and move on.

The two women strike a marked contrast, even down to their choice of nightwear, the no-nonsense Helena in comfortable-looking button-up blue pyjamas and the Ruth in a much more glamourous silken nightgown and turban, the work of production and costume designer Hannah Williams. Both Pritchard and Bond give strong performances, that range from an initial mutual wariness to moments of despair and a moving scene in which the women comfort one another. They are especially good at shared excitement when reminiscing about drunken nights out, capturing the ease with which we can all talk about a shared past in preference to confronting a more uncomfortable present, even if Helena is always only a few moments away from a withering barb. This simmering resentment is well conveyed by Pritchard, and Bond excels at Ruth’s morally superior attitude of forgiveness, by turns endearing and infuriating, to which Pritchard responds accordingly.

The play balances the darkness with moments of comedy, especially Helena’s repeated filling of her whisky glass from the unattended hotel bar, and when Ruth sets off the fire alarm by smoking a cigarette out of the window, allowing the women to return to an adolescent sense of mischief and complicity.

The sound design (Andy Graham) and lighting (Abigail Sage) counteract the realism of the narrative. Dimming bulbs, unsettling noises, the distinctly London sound of mating foxes, and the glowing fog outside the window inject a sense of the surreal into proceedings, as do moments of abstract choreography, where the characters move in a kind of synchronicity, gesturing both towards the increasing unreality of the situation and perhaps to their shared bond that goes deeper than words.

Narratively, The Dawn of Reckoning is complex, including multiple changes of direction and revelations that emerge over the relatively short runtime. Without giving anything away, some of these are successful, while others move towards the melodramatic, and the play’s climatic moments could perhaps have used a slightly longer lead-in to land more effectively. Nevertheless, this piece is an interesting new play that grapples with big questions of what it means to be human. Even if it does not always provide satisfying answers, it demonstrates a writer and director that are willing to let the script and acting take centre stage.



THE DAWN OF RECKONING

White Bear Theatre

Reviewed on 19th March 2026

by Rob Tomlinson

Photography by Rob Cheatley


 

 

 

 

THE DAWN OF RECKONING

THE DAWN OF RECKONING

THE DAWN OF RECKONING

SAVAGE

★★★★

White Bear Theatre

SAVAGE

White Bear Theatre

★★★★

“A disturbing experience but a pleasure to witness the stagecraft”

There are some stories that shock because of their subject matter and some that are disturbing due to the knowledge that they are true. Claudio Macor’s one-act play, “Savage”, has both of those qualities. And more. One minute we feel as though we are in a horror fantasy spoof (the psychotic doctor injecting monkey testosterone into an innocent victim’s testicles), the next we are watching a searingly tender love story.

There are further layers added – some explored with deeper insight than others – as we are transported back to 1940s Denmark during the Nazi German occupation. Macor takes us beyond the stolen kisses in darkened doorways into what was really going on behind those doors. And although a screen shields the operating table, we can clearly see the vicious cogs that powered this savage regime. Danish born Nikolai Bergsen (Kerill Kelly) and American Zack Travis (Matthew Hartley) meet at the notorious Corner Light Club in Copenhagen, a place under constant watch by the Schutzstaffel (Hitler’s paramilitary police) for evidence of the “disease” of homosexuality. Late one night, Nikolai is picked up, beaten up and dragged into Nazi sympathiser Dr Vaernet’s surgery for the so-called corrective treatment that will cure him of his ‘sickness’. It is a Kafkaesque scenario that beggars belief – the temptation to storm the stage and intervene is strong, such is the authenticity of the performances.

Both Kelly and Hartley capture the mix of passion and danger inherent in their love affair with enough realism to suggest that it might not survive the forces that oppose it. Mark Kitto’s Dr Vaernet cuts a gruesomely sadistic figure made more horrific by his detached coolness and willingness to kowtow to the SS. His assistant nurse, Ilse (played with a potent stillness by Claire-Monique Martin), is all subservience on the outside, but inside the fire of resistance burns passionately below the skin. Meanwhile Tom Everatt is the symbol of oppression in the form of Obergruppenführer General Heinrich von Aeschelman – a nasty piece of work. Reflecting Macor’s writing, Everatt’s performance borders on comedy, strengthening the cynical, satirical parody that is warranted.

There are dark secrets – that I won’t spoil for you. Jonathon Nielsen-Keen is a striking presence as drag cabaret artist Georg Jensen, who rises above victimhood to expose the hypocrisy and deadly double standards of the authorities. Rounding off the impressive ensemble is Simon Chappell’s Major Hemingway whose late appearance in the story in no way undermines his importance.

Macor beautifully marries the tenderness with the savagery, and the skill of the writing is in the detail. Callous asides speak volumes. “The cure will make more space for the Jews” is the appallingly sickening justification for the rush to free up the camps. Lines like these are simultaneously easy yet impossible to miss in the dialogue that is finely researched. Last staged in London ten years ago, Macor has shortened his script into a finely honed drama, condensing the action into one act. It is an important and frightening piece of history that, in this team’s hands, doesn’t come across as a documentary. Director Robert McWhir’s simple staging allows the emotion to shine without overshadowing the brutal reality of the events. Aaron Clingham’s music provides an authentic sense of the period while Richard Lambert’s minimal lighting enhances the stark atmosphere – although the use of two small, flat-screen monitors to pinpoint the various settings is unnecessary, and anachronistically out of place.

Perhaps a little too much pruning has taken place. There are times when we feel the characters could be explored even further. But on balance, Macor has pretty much hit the spot. A succinct epilogue reminds us of the cold fact that this is a true story. A disturbing experience but a pleasure to witness the stagecraft. Heart-breaking and savage, it would be a crime to overlook.



SAVAGE

White Bear Theatre

Reviewed on 27th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans


 

 

 

 

Savage

Savage

Savage