Reid defines himself as a ‘choreo-photolist,’ a word he coined to describe the unique fusion of theatre, photography and choreographed movement in his work; Find Your Eyes is a raw, honest and often surreal exploration of this fusion of genres.

The stage becomes Reid’s studio, with the photographer himself centre stage, his back to the audience and his directions to the three models often audible. As he shoots, the images appear in real time on large screens. Production team members are visible throughout, working at tech desks, moving props and camera equipment. It’s fascinating to get this privileged peep behind the curtain at a creative process – one particularly impressive series features model Salomé Pressac lying on a camera jib crane, her flowing dress and the black backdrop combining to make it appear as if she’s floating in mid-air.

Different photographic set ups mark different sections of the show – from black and white portraits of heightened emotions, to Afrofuturist landscapes created with elaborate metallic costumes and a hiphop soundtrack. Model and international pole dance champion Yvonne Smink strikes poses on a pole, while a vast yellow plastic sheet attached to her wrists and ankles billows behind her in the wind created by a fan – both the performance and the resulting images are so spectacular that they deservedly earn spontaneous applause.

It’s a testament to all involved in producing the photos that even though they are taken in a matter of seconds, onscreen they look as beautifully arranged as if they had taken hours of rehearsing and retouching – there’s a certain amount of bravery required to share work in this immediate way.

It’s unsurprising though, as Reid is equally unflinching in the narrative sections of the piece. In recorded voiceovers, he recounts dark periods of his life affected by drugs, alcohol, abortion and attempted suicide, which connect thematically with the photos being taken. His mother’s stroke and resulting physical immobility is poignantly depicted in a non-contact duet, with Pressac lying on a hospital bed, reaching out for help, and Slate Hemedi floating above her as an impassive god-like figure.

Although the text – written by Reid himself – makes use of some thought-provoking quotes, it does occasionally fall prey to cliché. It also feels overlong at 90 minutes, but in spite of this, Find Your Eyes is an interesting insight into Reid’s practice and lived experience.

Benji Reid Find Your Eyes is at Manchester Academy 1 from 12-16 July as part of Manchester International Festival 2023.

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It is staged in the industrial surroundings of Depot Mayfield – a venue that has been used to great effect in previous festivals. The dark, cavernous space enhances both the drama of the Bible story and the epic, thrilling sounds of Benjamin Britten’s opera.

Written in the late 1950s and based on one of the Chester mystery plays, Britten’s opera is the ideal choice for a community work. As Sissay explains in his introduction, it was intended to be performed in non-elitist, communal spaces – halls and churches, not theatres – and Britten ensures the audience participates in this community by including three hymns (which were sung with a surprising level of enthusiasm).

Musically and theatrically, the highlights of the work are the storm, which takes us from dissonant percussion to solemn hymn; the rousing Kyrie Eleison, which accompanies a Lion King-esque procession through the audience of 180 young performers dressed as animals; and the triumphant Alleluia chorus as the waters subside and the rainbow appears, accompanied by brightly chiming handbells. The singing is ably led by Morgan Pearse as Noah and Heather Lowe as Mrs Noah, whose stunning voices carry clearly through the huge space, while Sissay – white-suited and reading his part from a ladder above the stage – is excellently cast as God.

Screens display the Middle English libretto which, while not the most accessible text, connects us to the medieval mystery play origins of the work – and with its familiar plot, hopefully little gets lost in translation. The screens are also used to display video of rising floodwaters and trees logged for the building of the ark. These images – and the choice of modern costumes – position this production in a frighteningly non-distant future, where God sends the flood to teach humanity a lesson for its neglect and abuse of the planet.

The staging is generally pared back, a sensible choice given the sheer volume of performers; the ark is created effectively with just a net, dropped down in front of the cast and plunging them into gloomy shadow. It doubles as a canvas for the projection of crashing waves during the storm, and the moment it is lifted up and the ark’s occupants are freed adds to the joy of the finale.

Cast, creatives and all involved in Noah’s Flood should be proud of pulling off such an ambitious undertaking, which showcases not just community spirit and talent but also the inventive, inspiring spirit of MIF.

Manchester Collective and Slung Low Noah’s Flood was at Depot Mayfield on 9 July 2023 as part of Manchester International Festival.

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Rows of the theatre’s seats are removed to allow the stage to be expanded into a huge white square, which seems to glow of its own accord.

In the aptly-titled first work, Mechanism, six dancers seem like parts in a well-oiled machine. Their sharp, articulated movements appear dictated by the relentless tick of a metronome; their intricate hand gestures and isolated steps interlock, repeat and build in a fascinating display of precision and momentum. Lee Jaeyong’s choreography eventually breaks this defined pattern to become more exuberant and rave-like, with the dancers jumping on the spot to the beat (albeit in perfect unison), uplit by a golden ring of light.

Everything Falls Dramatic – another work for six dancers – is more enigmatic and less immediately accessible. It begins with choreographer Her Sungim skipping and leaping across the stage with childlike freedom, before she is joined by the remaining dancers. Their slow, tranquil section of floorwork is performed with no music and facing away from the audience; they roll fluidly across the stage and fall in sequence into beautifully arched back bends from kneeling, creating the illusion of waves breaking the surface.

This calm suddenly dissipates as the electro-acoustic score kicks in; the dancers run, stamp, convulse and swing their arms to the infectious beat with a primal energy, bringing the drama promised by the work’s title. Gradually, this pace eases and the music subsides, allowing the audience to notice the power of the dancers’ breathing. They sink to the floor and fold into a heap of bodies, as scarlet petals rain down on them from above.

The profound discipline, dynamism and musicality of this company is on clear display in both works and makes for a truly electric performance. Kontemporary Korea continues with a triple bill at The Lowry on 6 May.

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The show focusses on the Affair of the Diamond Necklace – a historical scandal that damaged the queen’s already tarnished reputation and contributed to the French Revolution – as told by the real character, Jeanne de Valois-Saint-Rémy. Jeanne plots to bring down the queen by stealing a diamond necklace, but her scheme (involving a cardinal, a prostitute, forged letters and fake friendships) soon goes awry with disastrous consequences. It’s a lot to fit into 70 minutes, and as a result the storytelling and character development is rather rushed – it’s not clear exactly why Jeanne needs the diamonds in particular or why she is being painted as a revolutionary figure (in real life, she was greedy, opportunistic and very much guilty of theft).

This issue aside, the show is a hugely enjoyable watch with an appealing soundtrack and a cast who give it their all. Renée Lamb’s vocals are sensational; Travis Ross squeezes every ounce of camp, filthy humour out of his appearances as the lecherous cardinal; and the whole cast nail Drew McOnie’s dynamic, multi-genre choreography. The show may fuse many styles and genres – including some very deliberate satire drawing parallels with the corrupt French court and the current UK government – but it all works together and never feels messy.

It’s hard to imagine someone more perfect to play Marie Antoinette than musical theatre superstar Zizzi Strallen. In her costume of pink ‘not a wig,’ pink leotard, cage skirt and high-heeled boots, she looks like an 18th century Barbie doll; her stage presence is magnetic, her voice is jaw-droppingly versatile and she is incredibly funny as the posh, privileged and obliviously self-centred royal. Having only ever seen her on much larger stages, it’s a real treat to watch a performer like Strallen up close in the smaller Quays Theatre.

Although ‘Cake’ is fun as gig theatre, it would also work brilliantly as an amped-up production with more dancers and extras, set and costume changes. It’s hard to envisage opulent palaces and crowded city slums – and the class divide between them – with just 5 performers and no set. The concept, the music and the raw energy of this stage could easily transfer to a bigger stage and fill a longer run time. But maybe that’s just me wanting my cake and eating it too.

Cake The Marie Antoinette Playlist is at The Lowry from 28 March – 1 April 2023.

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What’s striking about Peter Wright and Galina Samsova’s production is the attention to detail in storytelling. Opening with the death of Siegfried’s father justifies both the Prince’s melancholy at the beginning of the ballet and the need for him to marry and produce an heir to the throne. Introducing flirtatious courtesans in the Act I pas de trois gives Siegfried the opportunity to spurn their attentions, proving that his love for Odette is more than just a knee-jerk reaction to grief.

The often extraneous national dances of Act III are given purpose as performances by entourages of the visiting Princesses, whose solos tie into these dances choreographically. A particular highlight of this act is the swirling, vibrant, tambourine-accompanied Neapolitan dance.

Philip Prowse’s design effectively supports the storytelling. The sombre mood set by the funereal tableau at the initial rise of the curtain is continued visually in the muted greys and blacks of the costumes and the shadowy set in Act I; it sets up a contrast with the pearly luminescence of the flocking swans, and the rich gold, bronze and red palette of Act III. The only element of the design that’s lacking is the swan costumes – the tutus aren’t really birdlike enough, with their glittery bodices and lack of feathers, while their kokoshnik tiaras mask the traditional white head-dresses.

Mathias Dingman and Momoko Hirata’s interpretations of the lead roles may be more emotionally understated, but their dancing speaks for itself. Dingman’s leaps appear effortless and his stage presence is undeniable; Hirata’s Odette is all serene, exquisite control, dancing in a world of her own, while her mischievously grinning, Odile is dagger sharp and hyper-aware of her audience.

Hearing Tchaikovsky’s iconic, gloriously dramatic music played live by the brilliant Royal Ballet Sinfonia completes the performance.

All elements of this production work together in service of the narrative, maintaining classical tradition and creating a magical, doomed world that still has an enthralling power.

Birmingham Royal Ballet’s Swan Lake is at The Lowry, Salford from 2-4 March 2023.

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Set in the aftermath of a housewarming party, characters Laura (Erin Shanagher) and Danny (Gerard Kearns) are left behind finishing their drinks and an intriguing ‘will-they-won’t-they’ interaction starts to unfold. Endearingly awkward, Danny – with his ketchup-stained shirt and inability to open a bottle of wine – foils and frustrates impatient, tightly wound Laura, whose confident advances are belied by her nervous habits of tucking her hair behind her ears and touching the neckline of her top.

The tension between the two results in plenty of comic moments, as Danny attempts to deflect Laura’s attentions. Their conversation – full of crossed wires, knowing references to Manchester and amusingly mundane exchanges about Scotch eggs and internet dating – disarms the audience with humour, before hitting home with painfully poignant observations on loneliness, love and loss.

Shanagher and Kearns cover both comic and tragic ground with ease, drawing the audience in with both their entertaining banter and long, uncomfortable silences. At nearly two hours without an interval, the focus and stamina required for this play is immense and both cast and director Bryony Shanahan do an excellent job of pacing the action.

Laura’s flat is created in realistic detail, with trendy mid-century modern furniture and kitchen units that include a working sink and fridge; the openness of the space exposes the actors, heightening the vulnerability of the characters. When the play begins, the counter tops and tables are covered in dirty plates, glasses and empty bottles –Danny insists on tidying this up before anything can happen between them, a literal purification of their respective complicated pasts to create a clean slate for the future.

Beginning fascinates because it starts as a believable interaction between two strangers who are attracted to each other, and becomes a surreally intense exchange as they live out an entire relationship over the course of one night, laying themselves bare to the audience and each other.

Beginning is at The Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester from 16 February to 11 March 2023.

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A cast of just five performers – four of whom are women – recreate a large ensemble of characters, from the policeman who discovers Edith with her husband’s body to the mother of Freddie Bywaters, Edith’s lover. Interestingly, the only male performer in the cast plays just two parts – Edith’s husband Percy and the judge.

The cast are costumed in minimal black and white suits, blank slates that give no indication of time period or gender – with the exception of Edith, whose vivid red dress works to depict her as both flamboyant artist and provocative adulteress. For most of the play, she is seated centre stage under the literal and metaphorical glare of a bright spotlight, while the other characters move around her.

On the night I attended, the performance unfortunately started 40 minutes late, which I assume was down to technical issues. Audio and video content are integral to this production, with recordings of news reports on the trial, statements to the police and extracts of Edith’s letters all interwoven with the actors’ dialogue. The shifts between the two are sometimes clunky, but mostly the cast handle the courtroom jargon and rapid character switches with confidence.

The audience is posited as the jury of the trial, having to rise from our seats at the entrance of the judge. Regular three minute ‘recesses’ occur throughout the performance, to give the audience an opportunity to discuss what we’ve just witnessed and – perhaps more importantly – to refresh our concentration spans. Ultimately though, the audience are given no agency as a jury because the verdict is delivered via a recorded sound clip – perhaps a performer planted in the audience would be more effective at creating a genuine courtroom feel.

The verdict is no surprise either, with everything mirroring society’s misogynistic determination to pin Edith as the guilty party: the growing, nervous desperation of her defence counsel, the openly – almost comically – prejudiced judge, and the reporters that stress the youth and comparative innocence of Freddie, the actual murderer, while declaring the accused to be a “shocking little piece of rubbish.”

Edith not only brings a historical case deserving of re-examination back into the spotlight, but by inviting us to question how she might fair a century later, the play puts modern day attitudes to women on trial. How far we’ve come is left to the audience to determine.

Edith is at The Lowry, Salford from 1-4 February 2023.

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Kate Ferguson and Susannah Pearse’s adaptation focusses on bringing out the humour in the story, with comical characterisation and plenty of ironic asides. The Ghost of Christmas Present is transformed from a jolly bearded giant into an excitable, bike-riding spirit dressed as a Christmas tree, who flings handfuls of snow over audience members and performs a disco-inspired number about Christmas pudding. Then there’s the Fezziwig Christmas party, which has the audience out of their seats joining in a TikTok-worthy dance routine. There may be a sad lack of muppets, but there’s still plenty of laughs.

In spite of this, the serious moments do hit home. Pivotal scenes with Fan, Scrooge’s beloved sister, and his fiancée, Belle, are poignantly performed. Although lots of the script has been modernised, the most famous lines have been preserved, and Dickens’ timeless writing still has the power to move – Scrooge’s heartless response to the predicament of the poor and homeless (that they had better die and ‘decrease the surplus population’) is particularly chilling in light of the current economic crisis.

As befits one of the world’s most famous ghost stories, there are some scares. Marley’s first fleeting appearance from the shadows is genuinely frightening, and the Ghost of Christmas Future is impactful as a creepy, hooded figure, wordlessly directing a rapid montage of reactions to Scrooge’s death from the stairs above the stage.

The whole play is performed by a cast of just six actors (plus one young company member), who not only jump between multiple character and ensemble roles, but also provide all the sung vocals and play instruments live onstage – including the giant chimes that act as the ominous striking of a clock. This, coupled with the in the round staging, means that they work incredibly hard to keep up the pace, but it does start to feel chaotic and they look rather frazzled by the end of the show.

The music itself uses traditional instruments and melodies that suit the Victorian London aesthetic, but unfortunately the sound levels on the night frequently prevented me from hearing a lot of the lyrics. When you take into account the sheer volume of songs in the piece, this becomes an issue. I also personally feel that there are too many musical numbers and that they are often employed at the expense of the action – we dwell longer at the Cratchit’s house on the song about their Christmas goose than on Tiny Tim’s illness, and the sombre, unsettling atmosphere created by Scrooge’s graveside scene is somewhat undermined by him breaking into song.

Scrooge (Laurie Jamieson) is depicted not ‘hard and sharp as flint’ but as a grumpy introvert who has – by his own description in the play – had to make some hard choices in life. This sympathetic portrayal, which ties into the comic tone of the production, means that we don’t see him radically transform as a result of his experiences on Christmas Eve – which surely is the most magical part of the whole story. The editing out of his trick on Bob Cratchit – switching suddenly from his role as miserly employer to generous friend – is a real disappointment.

This production is fun, entertaining and performed by a diligent, multi-talented cast. Literary purists like myself might raise eyebrows at some of the production’s choices, but it’s like elastic – even when stretched beyond the bounds of its original shape, it still manages to spring back.

A Christmas Carol is at Octagon Theatre, Bolton from 17 November 2022 to 14 January 2023. Age guidance 5+

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The extent of the fandom inside the Quays Theatre is evident very early on, with audience members loudly finishing the characters’ iconic lines before the actors can. How on earth do you create and deliver a show that is based on something so ingrained in the cultural consciousness?

Writer Miranda Larson tackles the challenge of structuring Friendsical by focusing on the Ross and Rachel love plot, with Ross telling the story. While this is a good idea in theory (their “on again, off again” storyline is one of the most memorable things about the show), in practice there are issues. A lot of time is wasted on the set up and maintenance of this framing device, with Ross talking directly to the audience and the characters arguing about how the story should be told. When you have an abundance of material to choose from – 236 episodes in total – this seems an odd choice.

The pacing is inconsistent too. While the first half focusses on events of the early seasons in chronological detail, the second half crams in multiple plots from the last six series (Ross’ second failed marriage, Rachel’s pregnancy, Monica and Chandler’s relationship – to name a few) at caffeinated pace and in no particular order. The characters make regular mention of needing to speed up and cut things out, but despite this, at 2 hours 40 minutes the show feels too long.

However, there’s plenty about this tongue-in-cheek tribute to enjoy. From joking asides and callback costumes, to songs sampling the recognizable soundtrack and an entire dance routine choreographed with familiar moves and gestures, the volume of references in Friendsical is staggering and makes a great Easter egg hunt for the diehard fan.

The portrayal of the six main characters is a mixture of spot-on impressions and looser interpretations – it sometimes feels as if the show would benefit from picking an approach and sticking to it. Ally Retberg perfectly captures Phoebe’s sunniness and kooky physicality (and does a spectacular turn as Janice). Sarah Michelle-Kelly’s portrayal of Monica is so accurate – vocally and gesturally – I kept forgetting I wasn’t watching Courtney Cox (her singing voice is also superb). On the other hand, Nelson Bettencourt, Amelia Kinu Muus and Sario Solomon (Ross, Rachel and Joey respectively) are less obviously identifiable and put their own stamp on the characters. But it’s Tim Edwards who steals the show as Chandler, nailing every line, gesture and facial expression with obvious enjoyment.

The concept of a celebrity guest appearing in the show is a clever one, given Friends’ legendary cameos from the likes of Brad Pitt, Reese Witherspoon, Elle Macpherson and so on. Dragstar Ella Vaday should be a fabulous and contemporary addition, but there’s more “offstage” arguing about what roles she should play than anything else, which feels like a wasted opportunity.

The biggest laughs come from the unexpected, when elements of the TV show are portrayed less literally: Ross’ English fiancée Emily dressed as Mary Poppins, Rachel’s ‘makeover’ (featuring that haircut and very conspicuous nipples) and a song that lets us inside Gunther’s mind. This is parody at its wittiest, twisting what we see but recreating the feeling we had when we first watched the show.

Overall, Friendsical is a great concept with some star comic turns, but the execution unfortunately lets it down.

Friendsical – a parody musical about Friends is at The Lowry Salford from 31 October to 5 November 2022.

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It opens with the unsettling Eye Candy, a piece by Imre and Marne van Opstal which claims to show ‘the pains and the pleasures of inhabiting the human body.’ But far from exploring human emotion, the dancers seem more like emotionless mannequins with their blank expressions and stilted movements – an impression heightened by the fake six packs and breasts of their silicon bodysuit costumes.

The objectification of women in particular is a theme throughout, with female dancers groped, grabbed and manipulated like dummies. This sits oddly alongside a vaguely comical duet between two of the male dancers, who gesture, pull faces and make noises.

Ben Duke’s Cerberus blends theatre, dance and comedy in its take on death and Greek mythology. The premise – that a dancer has crossed into the underworld by exiting stage left – is set up by recorded voiceover and two dancers speaking directly to the audience; this provokes laughter but feels overly long as an introduction. Once the piece gets going however, it’s fabulous.

Dancers in all black suits, full-length dresses, lace and headpieces strut across the stage to a pulsating dance music beat as if on a catwalk, breaking out of the line to perform dazzling solo moves. The dramatic, gothic aesthetic of the costumes and vivid red backdrop complements the funereal theme, as does the live performance of Monteverdi’s Lamento della Ninfa. The thumping percussion – also played live – is more of a curveball.

The programme concludes with Following the Subtle Current Upstream, a work which takes inspiration from nature – evident in the green costumes and the use of thunderstorm sounds in the score – and the human search for joy.

Alonzo King’s choreography is definitely a source of joy, its fluidity and dynamism allowing the dancers to flaunt their technique and stamina. Ballet-inspired in shape and movement, King takes classical steps and gives them a contemporary spin. It’s pure, undiluted dance and definitely my highlight of the programme.

Rambert – Dance is at The Lowry from 25-27 May 2022.

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