Category: Miscellany 2026

I’ve been to see a play. I may as well make this the week of three reviews. My verboseness won’t continue for the year (although I secretly hope it will).

I try to enforce a personal rule — if not a philosophy — when it comes to theatre: the less I know about the plot beforehand, the better. When invited to a performance, I almost never want to know the plot or what the reviewers said. People had said Daniel’s Husband was good, but that’s about it, and I am delighted to have kept to my rule because this play benefits from that lack of pre-knowledge. Not only was I walking into this story completely blind, but it was also my first time visiting the Marylebone Theatre. So the whole thing felt new.

Almost no spoilers here, but stop now if you are going to see it and want the real experience.

Because I knew nothing of the plot, the play’s structure caught me completely off guard. It is very clearly a “play of two halves”. The first act is a witty comedy in which we are invited into the stylish home of Daniel and Mitchell for a dinner party.

If I’m honest, after a while I did wonder if that was it: an evening of light-hearted comedy, with a few intellectual arguments thrown in to amuse — in this case, about the heteronormative state of marriage. It’s light and breezy. Even when ‘mother’ arrives, it’s humorous, if a little awkward.

And then, the shift happens.

The second half is a dramatic illustration of the brutal reality of the legal status of unmarried partners when a crisis hits. It is emotionally quite powerful; laughter subsides, and maybe your heart breaks. It took me a while to process the second part.

The moment the play shifts from scene-setting humour to high-stakes drama is one of the most effective mood changes I’ve seen on stage. This transition is anchored by a monologue delivered by Daniel (Joel Harper-Jackson), perfectly pitched off the back of the first part.

Looking back, it’s clear what’s being set up in the first half. In hindsight, the basis of the conflict that’s so essential for drama becomes obvious, but it is nicely masked in the warm tones of a cosy life.

The cast is flawless across the board. Luke Fetherston is heartbreaking as Mitchell, watching his belief crumble in the face of a cold legal reality. Liza Sadovy, as Daniel’s mother Lydia, is equally brilliant; she starts as the basis for some of the laughs but transforms into a formidable force. I don’t think you can love her; you might hate her, but one of the smart achievements of this play is that you understand her even when you want to scream “no” at her.

I don’t want to spoil the plot, but the message is clear: don’t procrastinate life’s admin.

It seems like I am in the mood to write reviews this week. So here comes another one. I do not expect this trend to continue all year.

Sleeping Beauty at the London Palladium – A 10th Anniversary

If you’re heading to the London Palladium expecting a sweet, Disney-fied retelling of Sleeping Beauty, you’ve clearly missed the memo of the last decade. Now in its 10th anniversary year, the Palladium pantomime (this year there’s a Sleeping Beauty plot somewhere) has faced a wave of headlines from outlets like Metro, branding it a “smut-fest” after reports of families walking out. But let’s be honest: if people are still shocked by the innuendo after ten years of this specific brand of comedy, that’s on them. This isn’t just a panto; it’s an institution with a well-established “adults-first” policy. Do your research. I really don’t have much sympathy for people who don’t know what this is. Although I do expect news outlets to run with and embellish this story every year.

What makes this year feel different is how self-referential the show has become. It’s been heading this way for a while, but this year’s opening retrospective is a masterclass in nostalgia, setting a tone that feels less like a fairy tale and more like the series finale of a beloved sitcom. Like the best long-running comedies, the jokes here are funnier because we’ve come to know the characters: we know Nigel Havers will be the charming punching bag, and we know Julian Clary will have a new, increasingly ridiculous entrance, and make a gag about somebody’s hand on it.

This “insider” feel is probably the secret to its enduring appeal for the regulars, but it does make me wonder: what do the newbies think? If you haven’t been along for several of the last nine years of lore, you might feel like you’ve crashed a private party.

Amidst this whirlwind, the show’s ringmaster is Rob Madge as the Diva of Dreams. While the rest of the cast seems content to let the plot drift out of the stage door in favour of sketches, Madge is the one who keeps the show flowing. They act as the essential “glue,” holding onto the limited plot and preventing the evening from devolving into a disjointed series of routines. Madge brings a modern, theatrical energy that bridges the gap between the “old guard” and the new.

The big draw this year is Catherine Tate as the boo-able Carabosse. While she delivers exactly what the crowd wants (including a show-stopping appearance of “Nan”), I had a nagging sense that she is underused. Tate is a comedy powerhouse, yet she often feels relegated to “special guest” status. Between the impressions and the sketches, you can’t help but feel she could have given even more if the script allowed her to go beyond her “greatest hits” reel.

There is no denying that Julian Clary is the heart of this machine. However, this year feels more like “The Julian Clary Show” than a balanced ensemble piece. In years past, the magic came from a heavyweight team; the presence of the late Paul O’Grady, the charm – and songs – of Gary Wilmot, or the triple-threat energy of Charlie Stemp provided a balance that kept the show from relying too heavily on one person. While Clary holds it all together with effortless camp, the absence of those contrasting “anchors” is felt.

Visually, the staging is bigger, better, glitzier, and (probably) more expensive than ever. From the neon sets to the “forest of thorns” in Act 1, the production values are impressive. However, some elements are starting to feel familiar. Paul Zerdin remains a master ventriloquist, but after a decade, his routine lacks “newness.” When a show becomes this self-referential, there’s a fine line between a “classic callback” and just running out of fresh material.

It’s still a 5-star spectacle with heights of staging wizardry. It’s loud, it’s proud, and it’s very, very blue. If you want a plot, go elsewhere. If you want to see the most expensive variety show in London anchored by the King of Innuendo, there’s no better place to be. It helps if you’ve watched the “previous seasons” to get the most out of the jokes.

I loved it (again).