The Human Voice – truth, lies, betrayal and a forlorn sense of hopelessness (Prime Cut Productions at Lyric Theatre until Saturday 28 February)

A day later and I’m still haunted by just over an hour spent in the life of the woman at the heart of The Human Voice. She’s a professional working in a health and social care role, and instinctively walks through a therapeutic technique for the man at the end of a long phone call she wishes would never end. But there’s no one to offer similar help to address her own distressed state.

The untidy bedsit mirrors her state of mind. The dishevelled bed clothes speak of restlessness rather than passion. The record player that’s still spinning with the needle stuck in a grove feels emblematic of the woman’s condition. The packed bag at the door is a symbol of the imminent removal of the evidence of past joy. She looks out through a curtain and the audience can see real cars passing on Ridgeway Street (only the second time I’ve seen that window integrated into a production). There is a world outside, but she has trapped herself in a flat that is now empty of love and almost devoid of hope.

Jean Cocteau’s 1930 monologue La Voix Humaine (The Human Voice) has been adapted by Darren Murphy and is set within a half mile radius of the Lyric Theatre. It’s a case study in muted theatre, with no room of showy hysterics. Ciaran Bagnall’s lighting states gently caress his blue walled set. Rosie McClelland’s costume design extends from painted toenails, through jogging bottoms, and up to a gorgeous mop of copper auburn hair. Conor Mitchell’s soundtrack uses pizzicato cello sequences that periodically touch the action before fading away. The woman’s reverie – she has a name but it’s only revealed towards the end – is only interrupted by her work phone (she’s insistent that she’s not on the rota to be on call) and her personal mobile (longing to speak again to her departing lover).

Seating banks surround three sides of the bedsit, the audience almost hugging the troubled figure who claims to be “a young-ish woman of independent means who follows her heart”. There is much talk of telling nothing but the truth, with some lies thrown in for good measure. Closure seems to be far out of reach.

After a pleasingly unexpected entrance, Nicky Harley pads rather than prowls around the flat. She steers her forlorn character between being somnolent, morose, agitated, resigned and defeated. Emma Jordan’s delicate direction is unhurried, and Murphy’s script drip feeds details about the situation we are watching unfold. Piecing together the elements of the puzzle – and I’m being careful not to reveal too much of the jigsaw in this review as that process is the almost the point of this piece of theatre – there are moments when I wonder whether the woman is experiencing a psychotic episode or something supernatural is at play.

Yet the pendulum of reality swings back towards a more painful certainty that she has been badly wronged and is struggling to come to terms with what is happening. The final scene sees the woman interrupted once more by her work phone and Harley’s changed tone and mood shifts, suggesting that this broken woman may still be ready and willing to help another person at risk.

Harley ably joins a long and hallowed list of incredible actors who have taken on the challenge of this role on stage and in film. She’s no stranger to monodramas, and lauded for her (tragi-)comedy roles. Like a previous collaboration with Jordan (The Beauty Queen of Leeann), Harley brings her A-game to a serious story dotted with a few moments of gentle humour. While the plot is almost deliberately absent of big moments of drama, the intricate detail of this extended phone call carries the unravelling story of devastation and betrayal. 

The Human Voice is a Prime Cut Production and is being staged at the Lyric Theatre until Saturday 28 February.

Photo credit: Ciaran Bagnall, featuring Nicky Harley

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Expösed – a titan of fashion’s personal standing is seen to flag (Baby Lamb Productions at Accidental Theatre until Saturday 7 February and then London)

Some of the freshest theatre comes from companies formed from young actors who’ve trained together and graduated from drama courses and colleges. It can be raw and rough around the edges, but it puts training into practice and is full of an urgency to create.

Founded by alumni from The Oxford School of Drama, Baby Lamb Productions has brought Expösed, its comedic take on The Emperor’s New Clothes to Belfast this weekend.

Hans Christian Andersen’s folktale is a well-known story about vanity trumping common sense and pride coming before well sign-posted humiliation. Baby Lamb whisks the audience’s imagination over the Berlin Fashion Week where Ze Emperor’s latest collection has bombed. New thinking is required to rescue the reputation of his underwhelming brand, and more importantly, boost his flagging personal standing. Out of the ‘ideas stream’ jumps a collaboration with the creators of Nücloth.

Jacob Baird’s delusional Emperor (whose private philosophy is based on his fondness for The Lion King) is clad in white from top to tie, mimicking the blank canvas of his mind. His court includes the uber-cool Johan (a very believable Nicholas Alexander) who turns to contemporary dance when words fail him, and commercially savvy Yanik (Ashok Gupta dressed in Steve Jobs’ uniform). Nisha Emich plays the competent, straight-talking but totally overlooked aide Maureen with great empathy. Two ‘French’ designers offer an exclusive deal to show off their cutting-edge fabric: confident snake oil saleswoman Bree (Hannah McLeod who also directs the show) and her bumbling sidekick Oche (Kiera Murray).

The original five-minute fairy tale is satisfyingly stretched out to create a 70 minute long show with lots of visual humour, clever dialogue, slow motion sequences, puns, carefully placed sound effects, a pumping and very cheesy soundtrack, and very knowing acknowledgements of the doubling of parts across the cast of six. The ensemble mostly makes sense of the mélange of comedy styles and techniques thrown at the elongated story. The mentions of fast fashion and body positivity are mainly there for the story’s punchline, but hint at threads that could have been more fully woven into the fabric of the script.

Given that the Emperor cannot comprehend that his servant Alexa isn’t a robot, it’s no surprise that the voice of reason at his side, Maureen, is almost invisible to him. Jacob Baird’s natural Belfast accent makes the Emperor’s moment of honesty speaking truth to his own soul rather profound for the home audience. The quick costumes changes are effective, and the final crocheted outfit is certainly worth the wait.

Leaving aside very established companies like the amazing Bruiser, the Northern Ireland theatre scene doesn’t have many indigenous outfits in its pipeline like Baby Lamb with a talented ensemble of young performers creating new work that is primarily comedic in nature (and not solely focused on Norn Iron or Troubles stories). So it was a joy to sit down and enjoy the craic as the six versatile visiting performers took on ten roles and jumped from one skit to another with this witty show. It’s a great showcase for their talent, and long may their ingenuity and energy feed their ability to stage fun theatre.

You can catch the final performance of Expösed in Accidental Theatre on Saturday 7 February before their UK tour whisks them away to Lion & Unicorn Theatre in London later this month.

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Maggie’s Menopause – another stage of life but no less eye-wateringly funny (Grand Opera House until Saturday 7 February and NI tour)

Maggie Muff is older, but is she any wiser? The east Belfast woman’s escapades began in book form before Leesa Harker translated Maggie to stage with comic actor Caroline Curran bringing the titular character to life along with her entire colourful friendship group.

Back in 2022, I was somewhat bemused when I joined their adventures in Benidorm in episode 3: Maggie’s Fag Run. Last January, there was a fond and raucous recap of the first four tales. And this year, her story once again jumps forward to Maggie’s Menopause.

The ‘change’ means Maggie is now flushed and sweating profusely, though her vaginal dryness means her sex-life is all but a collection of fun (and not so fun) memories. Big Sally Ann continues to be the one driving much of the story. With a cry of ‘no surrender’, she’s on a one-woman crusade to find a ‘cure’ for the menopause. Old friend Sinead the Greener is having a hen-do and it’ll definitely involve strippers. Greta Grotbags hasn’t gone away. Curran’s physicality transforms and her gestures clarify each new character before we hear them speak. Husband Billy is there too, quietly lurking in his bedroom. (There’s space amongst the menopausal mirth to pause to usefully consider the impact it’s having on Billy … which also sets up a later plot point.)

Fervent fans no longer wear Maggie Muff-branded white knickers over the top of their jeans at performances. Paper fans might have sold well at a merch stall for this new run. The set revolves around two stretched out leopard print fans, providing Curran with a concealed entrance for the penile prop which gets one of the largest laughs of the night, almost stalling the action for 30 seconds as waves of merriment ripple around the auditorium a mere ten minutes into the show. Well-timed sound effects add greatly to the levity of key moments. Director Andrea Montgomery has the measure of the loyal audience and Curran is never behind the door in her committed delivery of lines that will raise the roof.

Even though Maggie’s going through a dry phase, there are plenty of throwbacks to historic hookups. Right from the start, the language is even more coarse, crude and sustained than the stage version of Trainspotting Live. But no one in the sold-out Grand Opera House audience seems remotely offended and finds the whole production eye-wateringly funny. While younger Maggie’s tales of BDSM and debauchery may have stirred up a sense of fantasy and escapism in the majority female audience, the power of this latest instalment is more about recognition. The show creates two hours were there is no need for embarrassment, no need to worry about sniggering at a joke that you could only share privately with a best friend, no need to worry that a man won’t understand. Harker, Montgomery and Curran create a safe space.  

Various therapies are explored and at one point Maggie’s ‘muffalo’ begins to talk. (Even though it doesn’t really sound that like the figure being impersonated, neither in terms of accent nor the kind of suggestive comments he used to make, this recurring element of the show gets a lot of laughs.) There are fresh insights into vol-au-vents, bladder control, a ring of fire, and plenty of making whoopee. Despite Sally Ann’s best efforts, it’s not until she steers ‘Maggot’ down another more medical path that the show hits its fulcrum, the giggling is subdued, and Curran skilfully leads the audience into another side to Maggie’s inner world.

Fans of Harker’s grown-up wild-child are very much in love with the foul-mouthed character. The lyrics written by Johnny Cash’s (soon-to-be) second-wife June Carter come to mind: “The taste of love is sweet / When hearts like ours meet / I fell for you like a child / Oh, but the fire went wild”. There’s plenty more mileage in the Maggie franchise. Becoming a grandparent? Cancer treatment? Supporting a friend like Sally Ann with dementia? A nursing home romance to the annoyance of staff and family? I’d imagine that Maggie and her colourful muff will be back on stage before too long.

Just a handful of single tickets remain for the last two performances of Maggie’s Menopause at the Grand Opera House. Next week the show moves to Newtownabbey’s Theatre at the Mill (Monday 9 and Wednesday 11), Lisburn’s Island Arts Centre (Tuesday 10), Down Arts Centre (Thursday 12 and Friday 13) and Cookstown’s Burnavon Theatre (Saturday 14).

Photo credit: Melissa Gordon, Gorgeous Photography

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Melania – my takeaways from the elegant film that everyone is talking about but few have seen (currently playing in Cineworld and Odeon Belfast)

The film Melania identifies as a documentary and covers the twenty days up to and including President Trump’s second inauguration. Melania’s husband only plays a minor role in the film which keeps her in frame and in focus throughout.

What did I takeaway from the film? 

Melania gives good hugs and is happy to be blessed. She’s very comfortable with silence but can still do small talk.

She’s fond of being caught on camera doing the actions to YMCA. Her favourite song is Michael Jackson’s Billy Jean. It keeps popping up during the film. She can lip-sync to it, describing the singer as “very sweet, very nice”.

There isn’t a scene in this film in which she’s not wearing high heel shoes or boots with a large heel.

She rotates between the White House, the New York apartment, and the family home in Mar-a-Lago (where she has a whole drawer for sunglasses in the same way a rich male billionaire might have a drawer of expensive watches).

Melania seems totally unconcerned at the dissonance between her wealthy lifestyle and the threadbare wallets of less well-off US voters.

Barron Trump is very tall and is seen in this film to have been brought up with good manners. The moment at the end of the inauguration when he reaches over to shake hands with President Biden and Vice President Harris is included in the footage.

The underground car park in Trump Towers needs spruced up as it’s very dowdy compared to the glitz and mirrored glamour up above.

In a similar vein, screen 3 in the Odyssey Cineworld in Belfast is very dirty. The screen the film is projected onto, not the floor and seats which are pristine! Even worse that some of the distractingly filthy Lisburn Omniplex screens.

Secret Service agents look very uncomfortable wearing ill-fitting bow ties and better fitting tuxedos.

Melania’s modelling background is obvious in scenes where she patiently allows her designer Hervé Pierre and his team intimately poke and prod, pin and tuck to take account of Melania’s feedback on the cut of new fashion creations. At no point does is she seen critiquing the fit of her husband’s clothes.

FLOTUS is very hands on when it comes to style and design. Given the opportunity, she can chip in to improve her husband’s speeches (his reference to being “peacemaker and unifier” is her suggested flourish).

Her extraordinary and unending eye for detail means that it is unlikely to be an accident that this 104-minute Amazon Prime documentary of which she had editorial control (and was paid millions of dollars to take part in) keeps highlighting the value of people who have immigrated to the US (including herself – “my journey as an immigrant” – her fashion designer and her interior designer).

Given her presumed level of say in the shooting and editing, it feels of note that Elon Musk is prominent in the pre-inauguration dinner scenes (sitting directly opposite President Trump) and is the only person in the whole film to be seen with a woman sitting on his lap. There’s no attempt to rewrite history and downplay Musk’s role in DOGE.

And there’s a strong sense that love trumps hatred … in contrast with her husband’s actions as commander in chief.

Brett Ratner’s film would be improved if Melania’s narration was simply removed: the pictures would tell their own story. But the client might not have approved of that change. The scenes shot with old cameras on film stock are a constant nod to the First Lady’s father but the transitions are jarring and the footage is unnecessary. The verbose end credits outlining Melania’s contributions to the Trump administration lay it on far too thick.

Part music video, part pitch to be a lifestyle goddess, by the end of the so-called documentary, Melania is still an elegant enigma wrapped up in a very stylish overcoat with beautifully proportioned lapels. A huge question looms over the film. Why did the usually reclusive Melania (who contradicts reality by saying her role as FLOTUS will be “a very public life”) agree to be immortalised and showcased in a puff piece documentary?

It’s hard to believe that mere vanity would be a sufficient driver. The answer may be that her control of this largely propaganda piece means that she can differentiate her legacy from her husband’s. And the alleged multi-million paycheque for taking part could be a useful financial cushion if circumstances change, or a slush fund to invest in new post-White House opportunities as a high-end influencer.

For a Monday evening in a small screen, Cineworld will have been delighted with tonight’s attendance. It’s not a difficult film to watch, but it left me with more questions than answers.

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The Importance of Being Earnest – even more giddy, flirty and flighty than last year (Lyric Theatre until Sunday 22 February)

The Lyric Theatre’s production of The Importance of Being Earnest has been revived and returned to its main stage over the weekend. The sense of satisfying exaggeration is maintained, perhaps dialled up to eleven, with the duplicitous men outshone by the brilliantly flirty, flighty and – ultimately – flexible women.

My June 2025 review stands true.

Jimmy Fay’s vision for the classic satire is vibrant and allows every department to go wild. Big statement bows are back in vogue, but the pink polka dot one atop Cecily’s head deserves have its own postcode. Gwendolen’s floating hat remains a masterpiece. Wet Leg’s Chaise Longue pumps out at the end: an anachronism, yet as utterly fitting as the unexpected musical interlude in the second act.

Christina Nelson brings a real sense of hysteria to her portrayal of Miss Prism. Not just a few, but a mountain of cucumber sandwiches are demolished by Algy (Conor O’Donnell). Neil Keery’s Lane is hasty back stage but slow and deliberate with his entrances and exits. Later, his Merriman benefits from being more demonstrably drôle and less poker-faced than 2025.

The Importance of Being Earnest is a joy to experience. It’s confident, supremely over the top, and playing in the Lyric Theatre until Sunday 22 February. Enjoy the wild ride from an ensemble cast who are firing on all cylinders.

Photo credit: Carrie Davenport

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Here & Now: The STEPS Musical – a gloriously silly production, a riot of colour, familiar tunes, and a jukebox story that engages as well as entertains (Grand Opera House until 31 January)

The brash cyan and pink supermarket costumes in the opening scene of Here & Now: The STEPS Musical hint that the full STEPS sensibility is on show. The story follows a group of supermarket workers who veer between being unlucky in love and unsure in romance.

Caz’s marriage is wobbling right at the point adoption seems like a possibility. Vel’s relationship has been on the end-of-line shelf for so long it’s rotting. Robbie’s struggling to find more than a one-night stand. And Neeta’s too shy to tell Ben how she feels. An upcoming 50th birthday sets a deadline for everyone to sort themselves out for a perfect summer of love. Until an existential curveball is thrown and the staff at Better Best Bargains face a very uncertain future and multiple tragedies.

Part of the success of Here & Now is its full and knowing embrace of the jukebox format. Snippets of lyrics are liberally dropped into the dialogue. Shoehorning the techno-country number 5,6,7,8 into a STEPS musical feels like it should be a challenge, but Shaun Kitchener’s book and Rachel Kavanagh’s direction manage to totally integrate the honky-tonk banger into the cut-price supermarket story.

With more shock twists than a special episode of Coronation Street, at various points in the plot, there are almost handbrake turns as a character turns around, makes a surprising revelation and then launches into a song. In a lesser quality production, the show could lose its sure footing. But in Here & Now, there’s a solid confidence that pulls off the unexpected with a peculiar panache.

Lara Denning is bright and bubbly as the shop floor mother figure Caz with a particularly emotive rendition of Heartbeat and a gorgeous trio with the vocally capable Jacqui Debois (Vel) and Rosie Singha (Neeta) in Scared of the Dark. One of the standout voices is Blake Patrick Anderson (Robbie) who shares a heartfelt duet Story of a Heart with River Medway … playing a drag queen who later sings astride a fleet of washing machines with built in glitter balls, though the dancers’ ICE-emblazoned shirts take a new twist given events in the US. The store manager is probably the most cliched character, though Sally Ann Matthews’ dead pan delivery of the faux French phrases Patricia is très fond of never fails to get a laugh.

Some songs start in a low key that doesn’t suit the register of cast members’ voices, but after a few mandatory modulations, everything comes right again. Throw in a running gag about the pineapple of destiny, dynamically choreographed dance numbers, and a string of well-known and well-performed less familiar songs, and Here & Now is a great success.

While the on-stage performers are giving it their all, musical director Georgia Rawlins in the pit is also giving her all, conducting the cast in and out of their parts, and gamely donning a stetson for 5,6,7,8 before jettisoning it in a beat between songs. Manolo Polidario’s guitar finger picking often cuts through and deserves a mention along with Katy Trigger’s very solid bass line that drives the poppy beat.

Other than the megamix at the end, this is not a STEPS concert. But the storyline and the deliberately cheesy use of the band’s back catalogue creates something very pleasing. It’s a gloriously silly production, a riot of colour, with familiar tunes and a jukebox story that engages as well as entertains. Here & Now: The STEPS Musical continues at the Grand Opera House until Saturday 31 January.

Photo credit: Pamela Raith 

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Nouvelle Vague – a satisfying dive into the world of early French New Wave cinema (Queen’s Film Theatre from Friday 30 January)

As the last of his coterie of pals to make the dive into directing, film critic Jean-Luc Godard believes that it’s long past time to bring his own vision of cinema to the silver screen. Over 106 minutes we watch Godard persuade and cajole producer Georges de Beauregard to take a chance on him and then witness the disorganised process of shooting his debut feature.

With only a short film under his belt, Godard (played by Guillaume Marbeck) seeks out advice from numerous established directors, allowing us to see a hint of the genesis of his style of using the first or second take, letting his actors find inspiration in the moment, not overly worrying about continuity, filming guerilla style with passers-by becoming unwitting extras, throwing in jump cuts and liberally crossing the line with camera angles that will never match up in the edit.

While Nouvelle Vague (New Wave) works as a standalone film, for the princely sum of £3.50 any number of streaming services will allow you to watch the 1960 classic À bout de souffle (Breathless) beforehand, or in my case very soon afterwards. It’s widely regarded as a treasure of the early French New Wave movement.

Godard’s vision – if it is even as developed as that – is sustained by the craft of his cinematographer Raoul Coutard (Matthieu Penchinat), a war photographer with a flare for documentary-style shooting. Yet watch out for the fine details, like reflections in an actor’s sunglasses that bring a quality to the storytelling (and match scenes from the original film). The recreated scenes are a fine match for the original.

Aubry Dullin portrays actor Jean-Paul Belmondo who played the petty criminal and accidental cop killer Michel Poiccard in the original. Zoey Deutch stars as Jean Seberg, the actress who played Patricia Franchini, a student journalist selling copies of the New York Herald Tribune on the streets of Paris, and the romantic interest of Poiccard who he wants to join him in running away to start a new life.

Shot in moody black and white in Academy ratio to match the original film, Nouvelle Vague’s jazz soundtrack adds to the spontaneity of director Godard as he stumbles through an increasingly anarchic shooting schedule (“That’s all for today, I’m out of ideas!”) to assemble the parts necessary to make a film that has a few pages of treatment but no complete script.

Just as Marbeck captures the infuriating nature of the unphased director, Deutch depicts the exasperation of an actress bobbing about in a sea of chaos and reputational risk. Rising like a pillar of calm and preparation, assistant director Pierre Rissient (Benjamin Clery) emerges as the man who creates some of the beautiful touches that make the original film shine.

One character asks the question that is on the tip of every audience member’s tongue: “Are you making up how to direct as you go along?”

It’s only when you watch the original film that it becomes apparent that the crucial choice of hand-held camera and lack of sound synchronisation freed Godard to rearrange scenes and dub the dialogue on afterwards to create a cogent narrative.

Modern day director Richard Linklater’s Nouvelle Vague is a fond look back at a pivotal moment in French cinema that changed so much and made it possible to break so many rules in the name of creating better art. It is being screened in Queen’s Film Theatre from Friday 30 January.

 

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No Other Choice – a redundant worker spirals down a chute of catastrophe in a bid to regain employment (Queen’s Film Theatre from Friday 23 January)

When Man-su is fired from the Korean paper mill, the former award-winning “pulp man of the year” is sure he’ll be back in work within three months. Park Chan-wook’s latest feature No Other Choice documents Man-su spiralling down a chute of catastrophe.

Feeling humiliated (at being out of work, heading in to mortgage arrears, and his wife (Mi-ri played by Son Ye-jin) needing to go back to work), Man-su’s desperation leads to him taking ever darker and more violent action to eliminate potential competitors from a job he’s chasing.

This dark satire celebrates the weirdness of job interviews, the virtuosity of his neurodivergent cello-playing daughter, the ineptness of police detectives, and tripping people up on their own bad karma. Two dogs and an endless sequence of well-sculpted scenes will surely make this another classic example of Korean cinema.

The send-up of capitalism easily sustains its tenor over 139 minutes with the satisfying but unpredictable dispatch of colleagues in the paper industry. By the end, we’re aware that while Man-su (Lee Byung-hun) has been depleting the available workforce, mechanisation and robotics are less dramatically human head count required to do the work he once so ably managed.

No Other Choice will be screened in Queen’s Film Theatre from Friday 23 January.

 

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The Voice of Hind Rajab – an urgent reminder about a real-life tragedy that should not be forgotten (Queen’s Film Theatre until Wednesday 28 January)

Omar, a call handler at the Red Crescent office in the West Bank, receives an emergency request from a car in northern Gaza. There are few survivors in a car full of family who were fleeing their home in an area that Israeli forces had ordered to be evacuating. Ultimately a five-year-old girl is kept on the line while another Red Crescent official tries to negotiate a safe rescue mission. Tempers flare. Risks mount.

The Voice of Hind Rajab is Kaouther Ben Hania’s dramatisation of the real-life incident that weaves original audio from the recorded calls (with mother’s consent) – and later in the film, video captured in the Red Crescent office during a rescue attempt – to heighten the authenticity.

Motaz Malhees picks up the with empathy that Omar is consumed by as he tries to comfort and help the child in peril. Hind first suggests that the others in her car – her aunt, uncle and cousins – are “asleep” before admitting that she knows that they are dead. As day turns to evening, the girl tells the Red Crescent operators that “It will be dark soon, I’m scared”. Those are the child’s real words.

Over time, we realise that a cumbersome protocol’s ‘guarantee’ of safe passage – organised through the International Red Cross in Geneva talking to an Israeli Ministry who in turn make arrangements with the troops on the ground – has too frequently turned into a dangerous game of ‘Chinese whispers’ which has resulted in the deliberate or accidental death of rescuers.

Omar’s distress and frustration with the “coward hiding behind his desk” who can’t order an ambulance to make the eight-minute trip to the car is matched by the agonisingly slow manner of coordinator Mahdi (Amer Hlehel) who carries the guilt of previous failed missions.

The film never shies away from the reality questions of why the military would attack a civilian vehicle leaving an area as instructed. Why would anyone fire more than three hundred bullets into a car? Who would have the firepower to annihilate an ambulance? The ethics of the Red Crescent having to get Israeli permission and protection to rescue someone who had been attached by the Israeli military are also explored.

The Voice of Hind Rajab is one of a number of cinematic tributes to a five-year-old girl who is emblematic of so many other undocumented children and adult deaths in Gaza. It is not an easy film to watch. But in a month that features cinematic treats like Hamnet, Marty Surprise, Saipan and Sentimental Value, this is an urgent reminder about a real-life tragedy that should not be forgotten.

(Eighteen hours before watching a preview of this film, I’d watched on social media as friends of Renee Good reacted to her being fatally shot by ICE agents in Minneapolis. Subsequent reporting suggests that bystanders were prevented from giving medical assistance to Renee. Senior political figures continue to deny and contradict what video evidence depicts. The Israel Defence Forces denied having troops within firing range of the car; satellite imagery, along with the actual attack on the car and ambulance, challenges that claim.)

The Voice of Hind Rajab honours and memorialises the last hours of a child in Gaza. It’s being screened at Queen’s Film Theatre until Wednesday 28 January.

 

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Sleeping Beauty – a community of talent brings this traditional tale to life on stage (Belvoir Players until Saturday 3 January)

A new arrival in the court of Queen Marigold and King Cactus is cursed by the evil Witch Hazel. While good Fairy Lilac adapts the deadliest part of the spell, the now 16-year-old Princess Rose still ends up falling asleep for a hundred years before being woken up (not kissed!) by a prince.

Mark McClean and assistant Katie-Rose Spence have directed this year’s Belvoir Players’ pantomime Sleeping Beauty (written by Alan P Frayn) which follows a fairly traditional story arc, with Nurse Hattie and Muddles providing a lot of the comedy, and local posties Carrie and Fetch joining in with some clowning and setting up a topical joke at the expense of Evri.

It’s always a joy to visit Belvoir Studio Theatre at Christmas, and encouraging to see amateur dramatic society stalwarts joined on stage by new talent (young and old). Colourful cloth backdrops along with sound/light effects bring the action to life. Wilson Shields and his band create the pumping live soundtrack (albeit louder than the vocals in some songs) with covers of Stevie Wonder, Lewis Capaldi, Blondie, The Boo Radleys and Kylie Minogue. The audience are never far from the action, with lots of shouting and booing. Anyone sitting in the front rows can expect to be gently picked on. The children sitting in my row were rapt with everything going on.

Alongside the expected fart sound effects and use of a Super Soaker, there’s the inevitable 6-7 mention, a wee dig at Keir Starmer, and plenty of gentle double entendres that easily fly over the head of younger audience members. The dame pulls a suppository gag out of nowhere, and Muddles revels in an almost endless supply of cracker-worthy jokes.

What makes a show like Sleeping Beauty special is the strong sense of community. Two or three actors rotate through the main roles, with three forty-strong youth choruses flooding the tiny stage for some of scenes. Hats off to the chaperones backstage who keep the cast and venue safe. No two shows share the same cast. And the show must always go on, no matter what happens. With both Princess Rose actors indisposed this weekend, Rainbow Fairy Julia Hamilton stepped up with minimal notice and delivered Princess Rose’s dialogue, dance and songs with aplomb as if she was made for the role and had been rehearsing for weeks.

Belvoir Players may not be able to fly a plane over the heads of the audience or have indoor pyrotechnics announce the arrival of the villain on stage, but they can entertain the two hundred audience members packed into the theatre for each performance with solid singing, good direction, and a joyful spirit. Sleeping Beauty was a lovely way to finish my mammoth trek around eleven Belfast festive productions. Apologies to the other shows which offered a ticket to review that I had to decline, and best wishes to everyone who will be back on stage, or back of house, after Christmas Day! 

Sleeping Beauty continues at Belvoir Studio Theatre until Saturday 3 January. Only a handful of seats remain at some of the remaining performances, with most completely sold out.

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Baby It’s Cold Outside – bringing a Black Mountain lesbian comedy into the heart of East Belfast (Bright Umbrella at The Sanctuary Theatre until Sunday 4 January)

Just when you think you’ve seen every variety of Christmas show, Baby It’s Cold Outside makes a comeback. West Belfast playwright Brenda Murphy’s 2013 play is being produced by Bright Umbrella in The Sanctuary Theatre.

In a nutshell, straight white bricklayer Joe from Ballymurphy calls in to check on his pregnant childhood friend who now lives with two other lesbians in an isolated cottage up Black Mountain. The surrounding landscape is about to be smothered in snow. The Christmas tree is up, and soon the mercury is rising as Joe (Brian Markey) comes storming in with his ignorance about ‘queers’ (to use the phrase he oft repeats) and his possessive feelings towards Patsy’s baby.

There’s certainly a lot of social commentary. But there’s also a lot of crass stereotyping and – for most of the first act – the audience around me were largely laughing along with Joe’s inappropriate musings rather than siding with the misunderstood and maligned women. At times the atmosphere felt quite demeaning and dismissive of the LGBT community, even though that’s not the script’s intention.

Markey veers from being cock of the walk to fleeting moments of realising his witlessness, before finally taking control of a tense situation.

Mary McGurk acts her socks off (and her character’s knickers) as Patsy. With two weeks to go until her due date, she lumbers around the cottage’s sitting room, taking no cheek from Joe and spilling his tea … right until he reveals a detail about his actions as the sperm donor for Patsy’s baby. An impressive McGurk stops emotionally strong Patsy from ever being drawn as simply ‘highly strung’.

Michelle Wiggins plays Sally, a butch woman who can lag pipes and gos out of her way to help older neighbours. US student Madison (Jade O’Neill) barely has to bat her eyelids to have Joe fawning over her. Her character is the least well written, and Joe’s warm rapport with Madison totally eclipses the fact he’s still meant to be so sweet on Patsy that he’s braved the bad weather to visit her.

For a play that’s focussed on a lesbian relationship – the couple’s desire to have a family, and what stands in the way – it feels odd that much of the play is seen through the straight eyes of Joe. I’m not sure whether that’s a legacy of the Murphy’s script, Michael Quinn’s decisions as director, or a result of producing a play steeped with very west Belfast humour over in the east.

While some music accompanies scene changes, it’s a shame there was no sound of howling wind or a few flakes of confetti thrown whenever the front door of PJ Davey’s set is opened to give a greater sense of the worsening snowpocalypse. The second act is less secure and some of the plot’s revelations are quite hard to swallow. But in the end, Baby It’s Cold Outside delivers a strong dramatic farcical finish that befits a comedy show (it’s never a hospital drama seeking to be authenticate about medical details).

The coarse and adult nature of Baby It’s Cold Outside is certainly a departure from last year’s family-friendly production of The Magician’s Nephew (based on the CS Lewis book) in The Sanctuary Theatre. Some aspects of the play feel very pertinent. Yet I found the overall tone taken to be challenging: both Joe and some in the audience get an education of sorts, but it seems to come at the cost of diluting the message of advocacy for gay wannabe mums.

Baby It’s Cold Outside continues its run until Sunday 4 January (link to tickets before and after 22 December). 

Photo credit: Emma Dawson

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The Secret Bookshop – an other-worldly celebration of stories and reading (Cahoots NI at Cityside Retail Park until Wednesday 24 December)

Bookshops are magical places at the best of times. Shelves full of treasured stories. But step inside the unmarked door in Cityside shopping centre and walk down the long entrance corridor with its flickering lights, and you’ll find yourself in an immersive and spell-binding celebration of books and storytelling: The Secret Bookshop.

We first meet Silas, his daughter Araminta and her boyfriend Thaddeus in the Archive, a room surrounded by stacks of flight cases, guarded by Nigel, the comically plain-named head of security. Inside the cases are objects from familiar tales. Soon we’re stepping through a portal into the actual bookstore where objects will float, doors will open and close by themselves, and can it be true that stories the audience chose before entering the building are randomly coming to life in front of our eyes!

Accompanied by the jazzy fingers and smooth vocals of Octavian Pedal (Kyron Burke), we join Silas (John Paul Connolly) on his quest. He’s a driven man on a mission, who is dismissive of “sensitive” Thaddeus (Hugh Brown, playing the kind of guy who doesn’t panic and would be good in an emergency). Christina Nelson’s Araminta is eager and infectiously enthusiastic. Nigel (Declan King) is kept at arm’s length, an outside who is definitely not part of the family. Throughout the performance we’ll also see the work and eventually the presence of Orla Gormley (who, without giving away the final part of the show, provides a very cool and monochromatic juxtaposition to the warm bookshop workers).

Writer Charles Way’s imagination is teamed up with illusions designed by Guy Barrett and Katie Wade and giant sleights of hand directed by Paul Bosco Mc Eneaney. Diana Ennis has created a steam-punk set for the archive – inspired by the characters’ oft-repeated mantra of “gas, steam, electricity, music and magic” – with lots of practical special effects, and a very warm book-lined room with hidden doors for the main show. Cahoots’ partnership with The Deluxe Group has really added to the scale of the visual experience. There’s nothing flimsy about the solid structures that enclose the action.

Throw in oaths of allegiance, audience participation, puppetry, and the fine level of control of the theatre environment that a Cahoots show always enjoys, and you have an hour-long visit to an other-worldly celebration of stories and reading that throws in a moral message about recognising other people’s worth, as well as a hint that reading under the bed covers could be a worthwhile pursuit.

There’s no other show in Belfast this Christmas that will make a member of the audience disappear and induct you into a secret society. The Secret Bookshop continues with up to performance shows a day in Cahoots NI’s base in Cityside Retail Park until 24 December. With space limited at each show, many shows are selling out.

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The Elf Inspectors – can the young inspectors help the elves restore the magic of Christmas? (Replay Theatre at The MAC until Christmas Eve)

Replay Theatre Company put children at the heart of their work. Right in the centre. They are the most important audience members. Yes, the adults bigger children in the room may also love what happens and particularly appreciate the meaning of some aspects, but the story and the atmosphere is built around the littlest audience members.

Walking into The Elf Inspectors is like stepping into another world. A room I’ve previously live-streamed conferences from on the top floor of the MAC has been turned into a circular glade surrounded by Christmas trees. Elves – you can tell they’re elves by their ears – greet everyone and speak with in a distinctive elvish dialect of English, cutely mixing up some consonants and emphasising syllables in unusual ways. Soft shag rugs can be sat on if an upright chair isn’t your thing. Gentle music calms heartrates that may have been racing due to that morning’s blockage on the Westlink. It’s all very comfy and wholesome. Even the stage management team – shout out to a busy Jordan Nelson and Rick Paine – are in costume.

While everyone gathers, some of the youngest visitors wander around the exciting environment while their frustrated parents try to get them to pose for photographs. There is much to see, and a lot of freedom to explore, even before the show gets underway with its bubbles and snow and so much more.

Soon Nice Elf and Helpful step onto the central dias to remind us that we’re all here as part of an inspection team checking out the rumours that there’s been a decline in the quality of the Christmas magic at this site. The elves’ generator has been on the fritz for quite some time.

Nice Elf (Catriona McFeely) is prone to outbursts brought on by frustration with the others around her. Helpful Elf (Ashley Montgomery) is responsible for maintenance but the generator’s crisis soon proves to be more existential than a simple repair will fix. The pair argue and bicker like sisters. As they rack their brains for solutions, even trying to use the sprinkle train – a very popular moment with the young inspectors – proves insufficient to sooth the generator and restart the magic.

Later we meet Wise Elf (Carol Moore) who spins a yarn while we cosy up in the shade of our family tree. The appearance of Rascal Elf (a superb piece of typecasting of Keith Singleton) adds even more humour. Is he truly naughty – the dreaded N word – or just misunderstood?

Some audience members are caught up in marvelling at the multi-sensory set: the trees, the texture of the rugs and the ‘sprinkle train’, being able to pull a fabric cracker, observing the detailing in the colourful costumes (designed by Susan Scott). Others get to grips with the emotional journey of the story as the four elves get to the root cause of the generator’s malaise.

Nice Elf’s song rounds up the 50-minute show with a catchy chorus (written by sound designer Garth McConaghie) that I found myself singing along to. Leaving the theatre and heading back into a blustery world, I share ‘wiggly wishes’ with someone who wasn’t at the show. They probably thought I was an eejit!

Janice Kernoghan-Reid wrote and directed The Elf Inspectors. The gradual build-up from two to three and finally four elves on stage is likely a deliberate decision given the age of the target audience (2-5 years old), but it does mean that the calming granny-like figure of Moore and the magnetic presence of Singleton are only on stage for part of the performance.

One of the joys of Replay’s work is that the actors adapt the story – how and in what positions it is told – based on the audience. So a wandering child or an aside that someone shouts out will be instantly and quite seamlessly woven into the scene. Nothing induces panic. And much of the time, the warm embrace of the lighting, the set and the props perfectly steers the attention of the littlest elf inspectors.

A £31 family ticket secures four places at a Christmas tree (larger parties can contact the box office as up to two more places may be available for an extra £5 an elf inspector).

The Elf Inspectors runs at The MAC until Christmas Eve. (Weekend shows are selling very fast with more availability on weekdays.)

Photo credit: Neil Harrison

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Robin Hood: The Panto – a show that successfully delights its young audiences (Yellow Jumper Productions at Theatre at the Mill until Saturday 3 January)

The diminutive Sheriff of Nothingman (Aaron Ferguson) is searching for the charismatic hooded one (Tiarnán McCarron) who is hiding in the forest. The extent is his ‘merry men’ has been somewhat exaggerated – Dame Little Joan (Lennin Nelson-McClure) is one of his few mates – but fear not as Maid Martini (Laura Francisca Shaw) is keen to break away from the coercive control of the Sheriff and wants to join Robin Hood’s posse. Will it all end in tears … or in prison? Will anyone slide into Dame Joan’s DMs? Can Robin outsmart the fearsome Sherriff and his faceless henchmen.

Right from the start of Robin Hood: The Panto there’s constant audience participation, booing the nasty Sheriff, feeding Robin’s ego, doing the actions when Maid Martini is mentioned. The set – boxes of wrapped Christmas presents (shared with the venue’s adult offering Belfast Actually 2) – makes a great multi-level playground for chasing characters. There are fart jokes, a bit of tickling, a mention of Ozempic, some CPR, a very creepy Trump (“quiet piggy”), and inflatable baubles thrown into the audience. And that’s before children burst into song when Raining Tacos returns for a second year. Willing audience members are brought up on stage and gamely join in the action. The actors move into the auditorium in the second act. It’s organised chaos and great, great fun.

To be honest I was all at sixes and sevens and feeling my age trying to place some of the cultural references. (Rizzler, not Rizla the rolling paper, aha!) But writer, director and producer Sarah Lyle is clearly down with the kids as the young audience members around me were totally in the zone and following every song, meme and mention. Doechii’s Anxiety is apt during incarceration though it’s Jailhouse Rock that has all the adults humming along to McCarron’s excellent Elvis impersonation.

While parts of the boo-tastic opening scene felt a bit forced, Ferguson is soon comfortable as the villain and never disappoints during his songs, his rap or his big Riverdance moment. Shaw’s singing voice soars throughout and her Maid Martini oozes warm confidence and inner steel, not to mention a lorra, lorra laughs in a blind dating scene. McClure’s falsetto helps create a big sound for the snowy pre-interval Underneath the Tree.

An ensemble is populated by a volunteer community cast who join in with dance routines and appear as Merry Men and the Sheriff’s sinister faceless underlings.

McClure impressed with his silk work in Cinderella last Christmas, but casting him as the dame this year is a stroke of genius. Even without the sound effects, he makes good use of Dame Joan’s curvy assets, though dangling upside-down from a rope above the stage almost causes a wardrobe malfunction. He has a really comfortable rapport with the audience that always gets the last laugh without anyone being humiliated. This shouldn’t be the last time McClure works as a dame.

As the curtain came down for the last time, one youngster sitting behind me proclaimed “That. Was. Amaaaaaazing.” And that’s the voice of an expert you should be listening too. Parents also commented that the ticket prices were substantially less expensive than city centre productions and the drinks and snacks were a lot cheaper.

Theatre at the Mill has a long history of quality festive entertainment and Yellow Jumper’s Robin Hood is no exception. The show runs until Saturday 3 January.

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