Noel Coward pours a lot into his dramatic soup and right from the start the ingredients are on display for a feast of drama: unrequited love, settling for second best in a relationship, choosing domesticity over passion, and just what is the correct attitude to adopt towards life. If the play feels dated, it can still be held up to the light through such universal themes.

With sharp direction by Blanche McIntyre and a set which continuously revolves – sometimes faster, sometimes slower – to give a distorting sense of time passing, the play reminds us that if we seek happiness in desire we will ultimately be disappointed. Jill Halfpenny (Waterloo Road, EastEnders) gives us an Amanda fatally attracted by past love Elyot and hoping that second time round they can recreate the passion which first brought them together, even at the cost of abandoning their respective partners. Halfpenny turns in a fiery performance as a woman determined to make her own choices, wrong or otherwise. When she launches herself at the beastly Elyot it is a moment of unalloyed drama.

But it is Steve John Shepherd – complete with bolt-on hairpiece – who steals the show with his louche portrayal of Elyot, all James Mason drawl and whispering cigarette smoke. He is maddening and is meant to be. His advice is to laugh at life and hope it doesn’t laugh back in your face – down with the moralists and up with irony because the alternative is too awful to contemplate. Elyot appears effete on the surface but Shepherd shows him to be full of bubbling molten lava inside, ready to explode at any minute. Quite a brilliant performance.

It all makes it very difficult for spurned spouses Shazia Nicholls as Sybil and Daniel Millar as Victor to make their mark. The final scene in which they confront Elyot and Amanda – and in turn vent their deflected spleen on each other – feels histrionic if necessary.  This is due more to the clockwork plotting of Coward than to any actorly deficiency. When Elyot labels Victor a ‘gasbag’ it’s hard to disagree, but Millar lends him the right amount of wounded decency we can all empathise with. Nicholls pits her youth and naivety against the others’ jaded immorality and in doing so reveals Sibyl to be not simply a victim of infidelity but someone who can see it for what it is, human weakness.

Some of the attitudes in the play are antediluvian and come with a warning but there is no denying the power of this production. The one liners come fast and furious and Shepherd is fantastic as Elyot at delivering non-sequiturs which leave you wondering about his state of mind. As Coward shows, to live with someone is to relinquish your private life.

Private Lives is at The Royal Exchange Theatre from 27 March to 2 May 2026.

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There’s no simple answer to this, though a quick fix of escapism is a guaranteed, short term antidote. Top Hat is now on stage, in a new adaptation by Matthew White and Howard Jacques. The show’s USP is multi award-winning double threat Kathleen Marshall, a premier league director and choreographer, feted for an acclaimed series of shows on Broadway, and in the West End (her brother is film director Rob Marshall, so it must be in the genes).

I have to admit to being late to this particular party, only discovering Kathleen Marshall’s talents with the Barbican production of ‘Anything Goes‘ a few years back. The latter was a dazzling piece of popular art, quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Marshall brings the same eye for glamour and sophistication to Top Hat. If it doesn’t surpass ‘Anything Goes’, it is certainly the equal; impressive enough to convert a musical heretic to the joys of song and dance. 

In New York, wealthy producer Horace Hardwick (James Hume) hires American entertainer Jerry Travers (Phillip Attmore, possessing Zeus like dancing abilities) to headline a new musical show. The action then zips across the Atlantic to London. Jerry stays in Horace’s hotel suite, and his night time dance episodes (described as ‘tapititus’) are irksome enough to wake pretty Dale Tremont (Nicole-Lily Baisden, a pint size package of fizzy energy) in the room below. When she stomps up to Horace’s suite to tell Jerry to keep it down, he falls instantly in love. The next day, Jerry follows Dale around London, croons and charms until she can resist no longer.

This being the 1930’s, she neglects to ask his name – yes, this is the improbable dramatic device on which Top Hat pivots, because Dale now believes Jerry is Horace (who she’s never actually met). Next stop, Venice. Dale knows Horace is married to sassy redhead friend Madge (Emma Williams), who informs Dale that her husband is staying in the same hotel. Misunderstandings quickly pile on top of each other. To say more would spoil the ride.

Attmore and Baisden make a charming lead couple, though are in danger of being upstaged by the sub plot players, Hume and Williams. Hume is a hilarious bundle of bristling neurosis, seemingly afraid of everything – particularly air travel. “I get frightened when I arrive at the airport, and see the word ‘departures.” Act 2’s secret weapon is Williams who crackles with attitude and whip smart put downs. Hume and Williams have such chemistry, it would be great to see these performers return in a spin off.  

I still recall versatile James Clyde from a run of mid 90’s appearances at the Royal Exchange; he deserves a mention for his droll turn as Horace’s jaded valet, Bates. Likewise understudy Zak Edwards, who brings a controlled, toreador energy to the role of flamboyant dress maker, Alberto Beddini.

The mark of a gifted designer is when their work stays in the mind, rather than fading after the curtain. Peter McKintosh’s sumptuous set is a giant art deco clock; at various points, the face spins open to reveal different rooms and suites. Alongside Yvonne Milnes, McKintosh has also created the fabulous costumes. Every member of the company is immaculately attired. Top Hat exists in a rarefied atmosphere of covetous excellence (I’m almost tempted to break into the theatre at night, and steal a souvenir – perhaps Jerry’s duck egg blue suit).

Alongside Cole Porter, Irving Berlin was the prime mover of the great American songbook. His best known tunes might be ‘White Christmas’ and ‘No Business Like Showbusiness’ but those featured in Top Hat are easily the most melodic: ‘Cheek to Cheek’, ‘Putting on the Ritz’, ‘Let’s Face the Music and Dance’ are ear worms that take up permanent residence. The undoubted highpoint of Marshall’s production is ‘Top Hat, White Tie and Tails.’ This is a dance team operating as a hive mind, a series of jaw dropping sequences which include intimate groupings, spiral stage crossing, and dancers tossing and catching canes across parallel lines. How is this sort of thing even possible? A scene like this belongs in a choreographer’s textbook; a blueprint for what the art form can achieve.    

Top Hat is as bracing as a glass of chilled champagne in a cryogenic ice bath. But you will have to hurry: this Chichester Festival production is at the end of its tour (Southampton Mayflower follows this Lowry run).   

Top Hat is at Lowry, Salford from 2 to 4 April 2026.

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Having taught herself to read as an infant, Matilda (Madison Davis) is leagues apart from the rest of her television-obsessed family. Mr Wormwood (Adam Stafford) is an engine-stuffing, motor meddling, Vinny Gambino-esque secondhand car dealer, and his wife Mrs Wormwood (Rebecca Thornhill) is just as eyebrow raising, if you don’t buy that she really is ‘just practising’ with her World Amateur Flamenco Competition partner Rudolpho (Ryan Lay) in the living room. Matilda’s brother Michael (Samuel Leon) is the supposed brains of the family – yes, he’s apparently got one. Somewhere.  

Life for Matilda goes impossibly further south after her parents enrol her in her new primary school, Crunchem Hall. A concrete jungle ruled over by an ex-Olympic hammer throwing champion, Agatha Trunchbull’s (Richard Hurst) reign of terror is defined by her motto BAMBINATUM EST MAGGITUM: children are maggots. Her hatred of children puts her at odds with reception teacher Miss Honey (Tessa Kadler), a woman forever trembling with her own self-doubt, whose insecurity belies a deep fascination with her strange new student. Miss Honey and Matilda have a lot to learn from each other – they may also have far more in common than they realise.  

‘Matilda: The Musical’ is indescribably brilliant. At just shy of two-and-a-half hours long, this performance would be a mean feat for any seasoned actor – let alone a cast dominated by children under 12, who share roles between shows. Sharp, assured, and yet deeply, shyly vulnerable, Madison Davis as this particular Matilda is everything every child imagines when growing up reading the original book. Bruce Bogtrotter (Brodie Robson) is a standout act for his lead in ‘Revolting Children’, and Sana Lennon as Lavender is a delight to watch skittering across the stage – an especially incredible debut for the only cast member without any formal theatre training.  

Miss Trunchbull is cocky, cruel, and hilariously, brilliantly camp from beginning to end, and Miss Honey quietly sneaks the audience’s hearts as she is forced to confront her own demons. Esther Niles as Mrs Phelps plays a much bigger role than in the original story, and is for a long time Matilda’s only support – a heartwarming watch, and comforting anchor in a story so chaotic from scene to scene.  

‘Matilda: The Musical’ makes interesting strays from the original book’s story, perhaps explained by Dennis Kelly’s screenwriting background in gritty dramas and surreal comedy. The biggest change is the decision to cut back on Matilda’s telekinetic powers, which she originally develops as a toddler because her brain is so large, it pushes the extra energy out of her eyes. Instead, much of the play is driven by Matilda’s dogged sense of justice, and her frustration at the state of her life – “Nobody but me is going to change my story,” after all. For a change so drastic, it is a shift that only sharpens the show’s edge: this is a Matilda that is entirely self-driven, and far more relatable than her aloof, superpowered inspiration. To see this tiny girl abused is a vastly more disturbing watch.  

However, with so much of the plot hinging on Matilda’s telekinesis, powers eventually do play a role in the second act – I only wish they had been introduced slightly earlier than the infamous newt scene. Shockingly for a performance already eclipsing the average theatre runtime, the show could benefit from an extra scene or two to fully flesh out this part of its story. Time may be well spent in the way it introduces characters, settings, and songs, but the introduction of her powers felt slightly out of left field: ‘Oh, so she does have powers in the end – wait, the show’s nearly over!’  

In all, ‘Matilda: The Musical’ is nothing short of out-of-this-world entertainment. This show embellishes an intergenerational classic with a surreal, dreamlike retelling, and is a fantastic showcase of the brilliance of the UK’s youngest theatrical talent. Brilliantly staged, beautifully scored, and with a blindingly talented cast both big and small, if you’re on the fence about tickets, treat yourself – sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty.  

Matilda the Musical is at The Palace Theatre Manchester from 26 March until 25 April 2026 before continuing on tour.

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“There’s a script?”

“Not tonight there’s not!”

Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you’re having a lovely evening – and if you’re not sharing a bed with your appropriately-aged best friend, how could you be? In celebration of the comedians’ 100th birthdays, the UK’s leading Morecambe and Wise tribute act has returned after a sellout tour in 2022. Now at Lowry, Salford for a limited-edition run, ‘Eric & Ern’ guarantees a night of love, sunshine and laughter for fans old and new alike.

After a sparkling debut at the Edinburgh Fringe (or technically, their five-minute skit at the Stage Golfing Society’s ‘70s Night in 2002), Jonty Stephens (Eric Morecambe) and Ian Ashpitel (Ernie Wise) have brought the UK’s greatest variety show back from the grave – and even brought in their own Eddie Braben-inspired jokes as a bonus. In a glittering new remaster, the 2026 tour spills over with treasures from the ice cream van, to Mr Memory (‘Arsenal!’), and more, all delivered with a fondness palpable from beginning to end.

“The diehard Morecambe and Wise fans, who grew up with Morecambe and Wise, all bring their children and grandchildren now,” Stephens remarked in a Quays Life interview earlier this month – and reader, include your reviewer in the latter category. At 22, I’m just past the vintage of the dynamic duo, but that doesn’t mean the joy of watching Morecambe play the ‘right keys in the wrong order’ was in any way diminished. Charming, innocent, with the odd poke at pettiness, my first impression of this Morecambe and Wise was somewhere near Bert and Ernie after a sherry too many – and I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction.

Stephens and Ashpitel are a delight to watch as they skip onto the stage, and are brilliant in their rosy revival of a bygone era of comedy. Childish, twitching, and unwavering in his commitment to jumping to the wrong conclusion, Stephens’ Morecambe is forever fizzing with nervous energy. Ashpitel’s Wise, meanwhile, remains the proud peacock of the pair, swanning under the spotlights with an unshakeable charm – which quickly goes down the pan at the slightest breath of wind towards his hairline. The new dynamic duo know their inspirations back-to-front and inside-out, and are uncanny in their apparent ability to read each other’s minds; no wonder an audience member asked if they were about to propose!

And like every great Morecambe and Wise act, there is – as ever – an unfortunate stooge to be used, abused, and bemused, and West End performer Olivia Fines fits the bill perfectly. Having performed “across the world, and in Stockport”, Fines’ brilliant vocals make her a class act on stage, as does her willingness to join in the fun of her hapless hosts. Her rendition of ‘Where are the Clowns’ is beautifully soulful – oh Olivia, if only you would just look behind you!

Stephens and Ashpitel’s ‘Eric & Ern’ is what you get when you put the souls of two old men inside two little boys inside two middle aged men with a dream. The jokes stack, the personalities rival, and the delightful charm of golden age comedy is beautifully revived.

‘Eric & Ern’ is a sprawling banquet of jokes both old and new, and leaves no stone unturned in its tribute to Britain’s greatest dynamic duo. “If you liked this show, we’ve been Morecambe and Wise – and if you haven’t, we’ve been Mike and Bernie Winters!”

We loved it!

Eric & Ern is at Lowry, Salford fro 22-28 March 2026.

Read our interview with stars Ian Ashpitel and Jonty Stephens.

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What begins as a bitter Brit Awards rivalry quickly descends into all-out war when second-place Oasis announce their next single will land a week before Blur’s. Dressed-down, and proudly, aggressively Northern, the working-class Oasis are the rock star shadow of Blur’s Southern, middle-class ‘problem drinker musicians’, who are now facing a looming CD-sale crisis. With the threat of being overshadowed by their ‘Gunchester’ rivals, Blur brings forward their release date, and in a blaring rush of bombshell interviews, packaging crises, and fizzing, electric resentment, the Battle of Britpop explodes into being.  

Straight from the mind of John Niven and expertly directed by Matthew Dunster, ‘The Battle’ is a grinning two fingers after Oasis’ grand reunion last summer, and a welcome throwback to a moment in music we’re unlikely to witness again. Part biography, part drama, and total comedy from beginning to end, ‘The Battle’ wades through the six weeks leading up to Oasis and Blur’s joint release date in a retelling as razor-sharp as it is mischievously neutral to both sides. Ahead of ‘The Battle’s’ opening night, Niven knew he’d be faced with the “stupid question” on everyone’s minds, to which he said simply: “It’s music, not football. You don’t have to pick a team. [And] if you can’t get the beauty in all that stuff, I don’t know what to tell you.”  

In a story where both sides are as hilariously trash-talking as the other, Paddy Stafford is a standout act as the swaggering, tongue-gnashing Noel Gallagher. Explosively offensive and raucously witty, the boy from Burnage dominates his every scene, and is a magnetic watch from beginning to end. Mathew Horne (Gavin and Stacey, Bad Education) as Blur’s Andy Ross is a manager forever teetering on the edge, and Will Taylor as Graham Coxon drunkenly staggers his way to crowd favourite by the show’s finale.  

Beyond four-letter outbursts and swigs of spirits, all that plunges the bands further into rivalry is the rumour-mill frenzy of the press – a fact poked at between scenes with the use of real radio clips from the era. Between dizzying bursts of music video, real presenters including Jo Whiley and Steve Lamacq are reduced to slapdash cartoons that bathe the stage, in a move as comical as it is tongue-in-cheek. A brilliant way to sneak extra time for building the more inventive stage setups.  

In its retelling of ‘mostly real events’ in the Oasis-Blur clash, ‘The Battle’ isn’t afraid to go beyond the limits of history to possibilities more exciting. With the show dicing up a sparkling line of wit and anxiety, it’s inevitable there’ll be a finale that hits hard. In a pinball frenzy of scenes from melodramatic to bizarre, ‘The Battle’ at last explodes into its own identity as a performance that stands on its own two feet. Far from a play-by-play of history, this is a show for the nineties teens who, in that fateful August in 1995, saw the war between Oasis and Blur and bought a CD from both. A real trick shot of a performance.  

The Battle is at The Opera House, Manchester from 17-21 March 2026

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With feminism under attack as never before from the rise of the manosphere, a play which champions women’s economic freedom within marriage and their ability to make their own choices is admirable. Maugham here presents marriage as a transactional relationship where women stay silent on the subject of infidelity in exchange for ‘bed and board’ and economic reassurance. 

Constance Middleton (played with sophisticated elan by Kara Tointon) is the eponymous constant wife. She breezes on stage with the unruffled elegance of a superyacht, determined not to be blown off course by the domestic tribulations presented by philandering husband and Harley Street surgeon John. He has patients, she has patience. Her mother Sara Clover (a brilliant performance by the great Sara Crowe) dispenses ditsy advice to keep quiet and accept that men are born to be unfaithful (at least it’s with your best friend, she says, and not someone you don’t know); while Constance’s sister Martha – the paragon of the independent new woman – is all for tearing down the shibboleths of marriage and confronting the guilty parties. In the end, Constance decides forgiveness is a more powerful weapon than revenge. 

With music by Jamie Cullen and sharp direction from Tamara Harvey, this dialogue-heavy play is given a much-needed lift which keeps it bobbing along nicely. There are some delicious double entendres and the set – all tennis whites and art nouveau abstraction – underscores how the glitter of marriage may just be that once the shine has worn off. 

The drama, such as it is, effectively ends with the first act and much of the second act is spent explaining the first. But you can only get by on so many apothegms about the relative personality traits of men and women before wanting to set fire to the playbook. Constance is indeed constant (annoyingly so), not wanting to upend a cosy domestic set-up, but at what cost? She goes into business with her sister and finds she is able to support herself but chooses not to leave John, instead paying him a year’s rent for board and lodging at the family home. At this point, anything seems possible. 

There is some fine acting in the production. Tim Delap gives us a John terrified less of being caught out by his wife than being societally shamed by the thought of her going away on holiday with another man. Said man, Bernard Kersal (played with puppyish sincerity by Alex Mugnaioni) is the real love of her life but Constance is too much of a realist to fall for him. Jocasta King is perfect as the femme fatale, all swoon and swagger, while Amy Vicary-Smith plays Martha with strident urgency. 

The final word, however, must go to Philip Rham as Bentley the butler who – like all butlers, of course – knows everything about everyone and in the end is the only person you can rely upon for being straight down the line. 

The Constant Wife is at Lowry, Salford from 17-21 March 2026.

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This two-hander from Jim Cartwright (whose Road is currently paying to rave reviews at the Royal Exchange in Manchester) is the perfect vehicle for Starke and White, who play not only landlord and landlady of the Shakespeare pub (what else, this is Shakespeare North) but an assortment of downbeat characters who stray in and out of the establishment. It takes more than simple actorly versatility to switch from character to character in a heartbeat, one minute you’re dusting down the bar and the next playing a Scouse Romeo eyeing the room for potential dates in his trackie. There is an intimacy that clearly comes from these two actors having worked together for years which elevates the show and gives it added warmth.

Starke and White begin and end the play on their own, starting out a bickering couple who can’t stand the sight of each other to a final, emotional reckoning in which they reveal it was once more than just the two of them. Theirs is an old-style pub whose time has come and gone but which serves to remind us that such places acted as repositories of human nature, for better or worse. There are plenty of laugh-out loud moments in the play, most notably when Starke appears in his ‘Scouse tuxedo’ and 80s mullet to woo the women in the audience with his wily ways, all the while being carefully watched over by his gullible girlfriend. But this is a play with serious intent and director Lisa Allen elicits a remarkable performance from Starke and White as a couple in an abusive relationship, which is very hard to watch. Starkie, throughout the night more often than not playing affable characters, delivers the role with unexpected menace.

Cartwright stuffs a lot into his little play: abandoned children, mental health patients lost in the community, lonely widowers living off memories and mild, a wife caring for her dementia-struck husband. His talent, and more particularly that of Starke and White, is in bringing them alive with such compassion and wit.

Two is at Shakespeare North Playhouse from 10 to 28 March 2026.

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Four years on, and this revival is firing on all cylinders, giving both the company and the audience the performance it deserves.

In the programme notes Acosta describes Don Quixote as “a ballet for virtuosos”. It is technically challenging as well as requiring strong acting and comic timing from its dancers.

For the audience, however, it is pure escapism, like riding the breeze of a spring morning.

In this sense it is a fantastic entry ballet because it is a straightforward story with terrific classic dance. And this lavish production gives us everything we could ask for – a wonderful live orchestra, colourful sets with some lovely flower arches, dazzling costumes and outstanding dance.

Acosta’s production emphasises the Spanish roots of the story, so we see bustling village scenes, fiery flamenco, caped matadors and live acoustic guitarists on stage among the dancers. Dream sequences provide a space for a wonderful showcase of sparkling tutus from the corp. And, of course, the spectacular solos and pas de deux full of fun, romance and energetic air-splits and high kicks.

Cervantes’ famous knight, Don Quixote, here danced with wit and presence by Dominic Antonucci, may be the title character, but it is the young lovers, Kitri (Beatrice Parma) and Basilio (Enrique Bejarano Vidal) who capture our hearts.

The whole performance feels like a celebration of youth, as we admire not simply the technical skill on display but the stamina to keep this high energy going for a three hour show.

Under Thomas Jung’s baton the Royal Ballet Sinfonia keep Minkus’ score bouncing along with the joy of a child’s skip. It’s an uplifting evening of some of the best classical dance that will no doubt delight seasoned ballet fans and newcomers alike.

Carlos Acosta’s Don Quixote is at Lowry, Salford from 5-7 March 2026.

Read our interview with Carlos Acosta

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Cady Heron (Emily Lane) is the daughter of a zoologist and has lived an unsheltered life on a research station in Kenya. Cady’s nurturing years were spent observing that survival cannot afford sentimentality. Since she was in baby Birkenstocks, she had an unflinching eye on the ferocity of the food chain. That childhood prepared her perfectly for the concrete savannah of North Shore High School. Drop her into a matchbox town in Illinois and give her two hours (including interval) and she will identify the apex predator, track her movements and eventually, take her down.

That big cat is Regina George, played by Vivian Panka with the untouchable sheen of Beyonce and the growl of a panther in her fabulous voice. Regina is an icon. We build icons and then we circle them. Recently, when I did some outreach at a high school we talked about gossip – everyone in every year knew everything about the popular kids. The surveillance was constant.

The hierarchy of life is all made clear to us by the ultimate soothsayers of all musical theatre, and all of life – the gays. Janis (Georgie Buckland) and Damian (Max Gill) sit on the outskirts knowing they are the absolute coolest. They tell us with crystal clear cutting comments written sharply in lyrics by Nell Benjamin, the taxonomy of mathletes, jocks and plastics. I felt like they were my friends. Isn’t it funny that we all feel we are in the outsider tribe? Just me? Doubtful.

The musical got COVID in 2020 on Broadway which possibly slowed momentum but since touring and being made into a film of the musical it has equalled the original version. You can see in the musical that the film scenes have had time to bed in. And the songs distil the themes of social Darwinism, inequality and icons.

The production design really lifts the themes of the story; the initial image of the Serengeti is hilariously grandiose and has a wry reference to The Lion King. It’s a deceptively a simple set when it comes to Northshore High – tables and chairs on casters reconfigure and make scene changes seamless. I love the ‘Meet the Plastics’ choreography by Casey Nicholaw, creating a revolve of all the types of kids in the cafeteria.

It’s all so funny. So mean. So joyous. I don’t like us laughing at Regina getting her comeuppance by being in a wheelchair though. It feels dated. A story so invested in outsiders and what they teach could take that small step further. Throughout the show there is mindful representation, yet disability sits outside the frame. When you are already dissecting who gets power, who is exiled, it matters.

Cady, surviving with superficial scars finds along the way, as Javere in Les Mis did – if you look to the stars, we are mere flickers. Even those of us who think we are kind of a massive deal. Loyalties are tested, weaknesses surface, evolution happens. Encore.

Mean Girls is at The Opera House, Manchester from 23 February to 7 March 2026.

Banner image: MEAN GIRLS THE MUSICAL. Kiara Dario (Gretchen Wieners), Vivian Panka (Regina George) and Sophie Pourret (Karen Smith). Photo by Paul Coltas

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In ‘Kind of Love’ by Stewart Campbell, teenagers across the country are still making out, making up, and making mistakes – who cares if Parliament still can’t decide on the gay age of consent?

On a lads trip to Ibiza, gay teenager Steffan (George Bellamy) is on the town with his straight best mate Typey (Tom Ryder), who is broadly okay with the gays, as long as those German ones at the karaoke bar don’t try anything. Despite his loving girlfriend Gemma (Rachel Burbridge) waiting for him at home, Typey has no problem letting his eyes and hands wander to another girl at the hotel, causing an immediate conflict when Steffan spills to Gemma back home.

Not without relationship difficulties of his own, Steffan tries to savour a fire-and-ice relationship with ‘straight’ classmate Jay (Ben Goulding), who shares a bed with Steffan, but definitely isn’t gay because sometimes they top and tail.

As the tension boils between Gemma and Typey and Steffan and Jay, pettiness and resentment twist into a web of lies and deceit between them. But when tragedy strikes on the way home from a night out, the teenagers must choose whether to leave their childhood behind them, or continue down their own dark spirals until they lose themselves completely.

‘Kind of Love’ is nostalgic in a way that only indie productions can be – and not least for the Take That and Leonardo DiCaprio posters slathered across the walls. With a purposefully minimalist set, earnest monologues, and musical scene changes, ‘Kind of Love’ feels like stepping back into GCSE Drama to the days of Bertolt Brecht and DIY props.

The script occasionally veers into slightly ham-fisted territory, with some chunks of unnatural dialogue or sing-songs (“Homophobia, it’s a disease; you can’t love who you want to love in times like these”), but much like wine and emotional maturity, many aspects of the show do improve with time: the major plot points of the second act are as gripping as they are well-planned, and there is a clear confidence shift in terms of staging decisions later on. The later fight scenes are brilliantly timed and coordinated, and a particularly abstract scene with Steffan and Jay on separate beds becomes meltingly intimate despite their distance.

Even the most wobbly scripting moments are carried fantastically by the professionalism of the cast. Even through Typey’s most frustrating moments, Tom Ryder (Waterloo Road, The Bay) brings a real charm to the role. The stubborn, ignorant, yet somehow endearing Typey is the lad everyone who has been to secondary school will recognise; full of mannish bravado, with flashes of the insecure boy beneath. Ben Goulding and George Bellamy are equally adept, and Rachel Burbridge punches above her weight in an impressive professional debut. All four share a palpable enthusiasm and talent for the stage, and are a real delight to see in action.

Tense, dramatic, and speckled with intimacy, ‘Kind of Love’ is as unapologetically teenage as it is timeless.

Kind of Love is at Hope Mill Theatre from 24 February to 1 March 2026.

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