The Extraordinary Life of a Rat Racer is a bold, fast-paced and deeply personal two-hander that offers an unflinching look at anxiety, intrusive thoughts and the often chaotic landscape of the mind. Currently in development ahead of its run at the Edinburgh Fringe, this is a piece very much still evolving, but one that already shows clear potential and a distinctive creative voice.

Written by Chiara Fumanti, who also performs as Eva, the show began life as a simple note – a “short story only written in incohesive anxiety-led thoughts throughout the day” – before gradually developing into a fully realised stage piece. That origin is still very much embedded in the DNA of the work. The structure feels intentionally fragmented at times, mirroring the experience of intrusive thinking, and giving the piece an immediacy that feels both raw and authentic.

At its core, the play explores the tension between our external lives and our internal worlds. Eva, an Italian immigrant navigating life in London, is accompanied – and often tormented – by Arthur (Andrea Guerini), a physical manifestation of her intrusive thoughts. Their relationship is deliberately toxic, with Arthur acting as both antagonist and distorted conscience: a kind of ringmaster of the mind, stirring action, applying pressure, and pushing Eva further towards the edge.

The subject matter is not easy. The writing leans into the visceral and the unsettling, with moments that are deliberately shocking in their imagery. Yet what sits beneath this is something more introspective: a desire to understand identity, to question where our thoughts come from, and to explore the idea that the mind itself can feel like a battleground. As Fumanti describes it, the audience is not simply watching events unfold, but witnessing “civil war” within the protagonist’s psyche.

There is something particularly compelling about seeing a piece at this stage of its life. As it stands, the production is high-energy and rarely lets up, moving at a relentless pace from the outset. While this creates intensity, there is a sense that it would benefit from greater variation –  moments of stillness, silence, and space for the text to breathe. The material is strong enough to sustain that kind of contrast, and allowing certain moments to land more fully would only enhance its impact.

The performances are committed and emotionally driven. Both Fumanti and Guerini bring a clear sense of ownership to the work, which is perhaps unsurprising given its autobiographical roots and the fact that the piece has been self-created, self-produced and developed within a very small team. That personal investment is evident throughout.

Guerini’s portrayal of Arthur is striking in its physicality and unpredictability. There are shades here, whether intentional or not, of the anarchic, manic energy associated with characters like Drop Dead Fred. For those unfamiliar, the 1991 film starred Rik Mayall as an outrageous, imaginary friend who re-enters a woman’s adult life as a kind of chaotic alter ego – disruptive, inappropriate, and gleefully unfiltered, yet ultimately rooted in deeper emotional truth. Arthur carries a similar sense of unruly, intrusive presence: part tormentor, part darkly comic companion, blurring the line between external character and internal voice. It’s a performance style that teeters on the edge of chaos, and while at times it risks overwhelming the quieter emotional beats, it is undeniably memorable and gives the piece a distinctive tonal edge.

Staging is inventive, making strong use of minimal resources. Balloon “characters,” scattered across the stage and inscribed with words and faces, become a recurring visual motif, at once playful and unsettling. They are popped, handled, and interacted within ways that build tension and reflect Eva’s internal state. There are also moments of audience interaction that further blur the line between observer and participant, drawing the audience into Eva’s world in unexpected ways.

That said, clarity of delivery is something that could be further refined. At times, the pace of speech, combined with accents, makes certain lines harder to fully absorb. Slowing the rhythm in key moments would not only aid understanding, but also allow the emotional weight of the text to resonate more deeply.

What is perhaps most impressive is the intention behind the piece. This is not simply a depiction of anxiety for shock value; it is an attempt to reframe it. The closing sentiment underpinning the work – that we are not meant to “destroy” the darker parts of ourselves, but to find a way to live with them – is a thoughtful and quietly powerful one.

As it moves towards Edinburgh, The Extraordinary Life of a Rat Racer feels like a piece with a strong foundation and a clear sense of purpose. With further development, particularly in pacing, tonal variation and refinement of performance, it has the potential to become something genuinely impactful.

For now, it stands as an intriguing and promising work in progress: raw, inventive, and unafraid to explore difficult terrain.

UTS Rating:  

The Extraordinary Life of a Rat Racer continues at The Bridge House Theatre, Penge until 25^th April 2026.

2 High Street, Penge, SE20 8RZ

Tickets: £17 (pay more), £15 (standard), £13 (pay less)

https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/the-bridge-house-theatre/e-ovmpjj

It continues at Barons Court Theatre, West Kensington, London

30th June – 4th July 2026, 7.30pm

28a Comeragh Road
London W14 9HR

Tickets: £15 (£10 concessions)

https://www.baronscourttheatre.com/ratrace

#TheExtraordinaryLifeofARatRacer #TheatreReview #EdinburghFringe2026 #NewWriting #MentalHealthTheatre

Welcome to Pemfort is a new play running in one act at approximately 90 minutes, and every bit as intriguing and unusual as its title suggests. Set entirely in the gift shop of a struggling countryside castle (or fort, if you prefer 😉), it explores themes of rehabilitation, community, honesty and personal history through its four characters: Glenn, Ria, Kurtis and Uma.

As the staff prepare for their first “Living History” event, which is sure to be a truly momentous occasion, the arrival of a new team member, Kurtis, subtly unsettles the dynamic. It soon becomes clear that he is attempting to reintegrate into society following a prison sentence, setting the tone for a story that is as thoughtful as it is quietly compelling.

There’s an almost tranquil quality to the production at times; a sense of calm, routine and gentle humour, but this is laced with an underlying tension that never quite disappears. Ed Madden’s intelligent direction ensures the atmosphere feels peaceful on the surface, yet something is always bubbling just beneath it. This is beautifully supported by Alys Whitehead’s design: a detailed, carefully observed set that feels entirely authentic, as though lifted directly from a real countryside gift shop.

Max Pappenheim’s use of sound and music is also particularly effective in reinforcing the mood. Subtle transitional moments, rather than full scene changes, gently mark the passage of time, accompanied by music that enhances the sense of stillness and reflection. Layered with the ambient sounds of the countryside – birdsong drifting in from outside the shop – it creates a world that feels both grounded and quietly immersive. Kurtis’ arrival introduces a subtle shift; he feels, at least initially, like an interloper in an established, comfortable world.

The performances across the board are excellent. Ali Hadji-Heshmati’s Glenn is a particularly striking presence; the portrayal is incredibly precise and deeply observed, capturing a character who experiences the world in a distinctly different way to others, without ever feeling overstated. Debra Gillett’s shop manager Uma brings warmth, kindness and a slightly new-age sensibility to the piece, a steady, reassuring presence who holds the group together. Ria, who becomes central to the unfolding story, is played by Lydia Larson with a natural ease and openness that makes her both relatable and emotionally engaging.

Sean Delaney as Kurtis, however, is the standout. Quiet, withdrawn and initially unsure of himself, he gradually reveals a depth of character that is both compelling and deeply sympathetic. As his story unfolds, the audience is drawn into his experience – his shame, his remorse, and his attempt to rebuild himself. A key monologue, delivered with remarkable control, is one of the most powerful moments in the play. There is no overplaying; just a careful, honest build that lands with real emotional force. When his voice finally cracks, it is genuinely heartbreaking, and the room feels completely still.

Sarah Power’s writing itself is hugely impressive. There is a quiet confidence to it, a willingness to let moments breathe, to allow characters and relationships to unfold naturally without forcing resolution. The dialogue feels authentic and uncontrived, and the dilemmas faced by the characters are drawn with a striking sense of realism and proximity. Running alongside the central narrative is a subtle but effective metaphor involving a deer; a creature in need of help, but difficult to approach. It’s a clever addition by Power and a gentle, almost symbolic thread that mirrors the play’s wider themes: the desire to help, the instinct to hold back, and the limits of what we feel able to accept or overcome. It’s handled with a light touch but adds a layer of quiet poignancy to the piece.

At its core, this is a play about honesty, about the courage it takes to tell the truth, and the consequences that truth can carry. As the relationships between the four characters evolve, the piece begins to pose a series of quietly challenging questions. Can a person ever truly be reformed? How far are we willing to go in offering forgiveness? And what happens when our principles come into conflict with our personal happiness?

These questions are never resolved easily. Instead, the play allows the tension to sit and deepen, inviting the audience to engage with the moral complexity of the situation. There is no neat resolution here and that feels entirely intentional.

Without giving too much away, the final stages of the play take an unexpected and deeply affecting turn. What might resolve simply instead becomes something far more complicated and far more honest.

This is a slow-burn production, but one that rewards patience. Thoughtful, well-directed and beautifully performed, it’s a piece that lingers, not because of spectacle, but because of the questions it leaves behind.

UTS Rating:  

Welcome to Pemfort continues at the Soho Theatre until Saturday 18^th April with a few tickets left here: Welcome to Pemfort – Soho Theatre

Some shows arrive fully formed. Others explode onto the scene in a blaze of glitter, guitars and chaos and then grow into something bigger, louder and sharper. I Was A Teenage She-Devil definitely appears to belong in the second category.

The 80s horror rock musical first appeared at the Edinburgh Fringe before transferring to London. It starts previews tonight at The Other Palace, and it’s already building the kind of cult buzz that new musicals dream of. Behind it are producers Claire Feuille and Josh Dooley of Feuille Dooley Productions, who have worked across everything from Fringe theatre to Broadway and were also involved with the journey of the amazing Operation Mincemeat from West End to Broadway.

Fittingly, their first reaction to She-Devil was not a careful business decision. It was the music. They told me that when they first heard the score, they thought someone had discovered a lost mixtape of previously unheard hits by every 80s legend imaginable. They were hooked immediately.

From Fringe Chaos to London Glow-Up

Moving from Edinburgh Fringe to an Off West End run isn’t just a venue change, it’s an evolution. The new London production includes edits to the book, new material including a brand new song, and a full creative upgrade with set design, lighting and sound transforming the space into a complete world rather than a Fringe black box.

But what’s interesting is that these producers clearly love the Fringe process. They described Fringe as being on “a different planet” compared to London and New York. At Fringe, there’s nowhere to hide behind production value. The work has to stand on its own, and everyone on the team ends up doing everything from logistics to quick changes to laundry.

London, though, is where they prefer to develop new musicals long term, largely because of audiences. They said London audiences are far more open to the messiness of new work in development and are constructive in their responses, whereas New York audiences can be much less forgiving during the process phase. That alone probably explains why so many new musicals now choose London as a development home.

80s Horror Rock, Identity and Heart

On the surface, I Was A Teenage She-Devil sounds like pure camp chaos: 80s horror rock musical, big energy, big hair, big guitars.

But underneath, the show also explores identity and finding your true self, particularly through a queer lens. The producers talked about how the 80s were incredibly queer in fashion, music and culture, yet mainstream films rarely openly celebrated queer characters or stories. This show aims to do exactly that, combining comedy, horror and a genuinely heartfelt core.

It’s that combination of ridiculous fun and real emotion that often creates cult musicals.

What Producers Actually Do (Apparently Everything!)

I asked, for those who may not know,  what producers actually do, and the answer was one of my favourite parts of the interview.

Josh said that early in his career he asked a big producer what a producer actually does, and the answer he got was simply:

“Producers produce.”

He didn’t understand it at the time, but now he says the job is basically to produce whatever is needed. Need money, people, a venue, a solution to a problem, a new plan, a miracle? That’s the producer’s job. He joked that the mob would probably call them “fixers.”

In reality, producing a new musical involves choosing the show, planning its development path, building the creative team, finding the right venues, managing marketing and audience development, listening to audience feedback and, of course, raising money. Constantly.

Lessons from Operation Mincemeat

Through their work on the West End to Broadway transition of Operation Mincemeat, Claire and Josh saw first hand how a show can grow from Fringe beginnings to global success. One of the biggest lessons they took from that production was the importance of audience community and not jumping too quickly into bigger venues. Gradually increasing theatre size allows a fanbase to grow and keeps shows financially sustainable.

It’s a fascinating reminder that theatre success isn’t just about the show itself. It’s about strategy, audience relationships and long-term development.

Building an Audience Before Opening Night

Another really interesting point was about the concept album being released before the London run. The producers believe new musicals shouldn’t be overly protective of their material anymore because audiences now have endless entertainment choices competing for attention every minute of the day.

Instead, releasing music early helps build a relationship with audiences before they even step into the theatre. Theatre isn’t just about one night out. It’s about building fans who come back again and again.

Advice for New Musical Writers

Claire and Josh’s advice for writers and theatre makers developing new musicals was surprisingly honest.

Josh said that he once chased stability outside the arts and found neither stability nor happiness, so returned to theatre because if you’re going to struggle financially, you might as well enjoy what you’re doing! Fair play!

Claire said the most important thing is finding the right collaborators and sticking with them, because developing a new musical is a long journey and you need a team who believe in each other.

Both pieces of advice felt very real and very theatre.

What’s Next for She-Devil

The big dream for the future of I Was A Teenage She-Devil is simple: a bigger space, bigger budget and a live band on stage. The show is essentially a rock concert in musical form, and Josh and Claire clearly can’t wait to fully realise that scale.

Meanwhile, they’re heading back to New York and Edinburgh Fringe with new plays and will be returning to London again later in the year with more work. So they are definitely producers to keep an eye on – watch this space!

What I loved about speaking to Claire and Josh is that they clearly love the messy, chaotic, unpredictable process of making new theatre. And that’s exactly where the most exciting shows come from.

I Was A Teenage She-Devil feels like one of those shows that could have a very interesting journey ahead of it.

And honestly, any musical described as an 80s horror rock musical with a heart already sounds like a very good night out to me. I truly can’t wait to see it on Wednesday!

I Was A Teenage She-Devil begins previews at The Other Palace Studio TONIGHT! It opens on 8^th April and runs until 26^th April. Don’t miss it –  book your tickets here: I Was a Teenage She-Devil – The Other Palace Theatre

#IWasATeenageSheDevil
#LondonTheatre
#OffWestEnd
#NewMusical
#TheOtherPalace  

Saw Ballad Lines at Southwark Playhouse last night and honestly, what a special piece of theatre.

This beautiful new folk musical weaves together the stories of three women across centuries from 17th-century Scotland to present-day New York. All are connected by the same question: what does it mean to choose your own path as a woman, especially when it comes to motherhood? It’s a powerful, generational story about legacy, identity and the choices we inherit or fight to change.

The music is absolutely stunning. A rich blend of original songs with traditional Scottish, Irish and Appalachian ballads that feel both ancient and completely alive.

The performances were just phenomenal. Fantastically sung and acted by everyone on stage, with gorgeous ensemble work and choreography that flowed effortlessly with the music. At times it felt like the voices of these women were echoing through each other across time. So moving.

What struck me most was how relevant it all felt. The themes of women’s choices, autonomy and expectation are explored across generations, yet land with such clarity today. It never feels preachy, just deeply human and quietly powerful.

The show finished to a thoroughly deserved thundering standing ovation. I would put money on this transferring to the West End. It feels like one of those shows that’s only just beginning its journey.

TS Eliot’s drama is all too frequently overlooked and overshadowed by his poetry, written off as cumbersome and inaccessible. Murder In The Cathedral, Eliot’s 1935 take on the assassination of Archbishop Thomas Becket in Canterbury Cathedral during the reign of Henry II in 1170 is, however, often deservedly the exception. Written entirely in verse, it is the result of Eliot’s commission by George Bell, the then Bishop of Chichester, to write a play for the Canterbury Festival that year.

The action occurs between 2 and 29 December 1170, chronicling the days leading up to the martyrdom of the politically ambitious Becket following his absence of seven years in France. Becket’s internal struggle is the main focus of the piece and Scena Mundi’s interesting new production, staged recently and aptly at Southwark Cathedral with a nod to the approaching 850 year anniversary of Becket’s murder in 2020, does well to draw on and accentuate the strengths of the piece.

It isn’t often that one has the chance to attend a theatrical performance in a cathedral and the echoey, dark vaults and chambers and potent smell of frankincense created the requisite eerie and unique atmosphere immediately and perfectly. Magical.

The huge space gave endless opportunities for use by the actors and whilst the majority of the action took place at quite a distance it was good, at times, to witness the excellent performances of the Women of Canterbury at close quarters, which created an immersive feel. The play begins with this Greek drama-style Chorus, a key component of the piece, singing, foreshadowing the coming violence. The Chorus becomes a character in its own right, its voice changing and developing as the action ensues and as it offers commentary and provides a link between audience, characters and action. All eight female members of this ensemble contributed well to its success as a dramatic mechanism; the collective speech was spot on and the singing resonated with a foreboding that was beautifully understated yet chillingly effective.

Jasper Britton’s Becket was charismatic and commanding, achieving the perfect balance between resilient martyr and sympathetic, passionate preacher, accentuating perfectly some of Eliot’s more lyrical bits of verse. His delivery of Becket’s meaningful Christmas day sermon is particularly memorable.

The lighting design also deserves special mention, the occasional blood red filters lending themselves marvellously well to the overall atmosphere.

The only real drawback was that whilst a performance of this play in a cathedral is of course incredibly atmospheric and fitting, the majority of the audience were usually a very long way from action that often required the close proximity of onlookers to achieve maximum dramatic impact (for example, the murder itself).

I would be interested to see how this production might work in the smaller, more intimate setting of a church.

Being one of the small percentage of the population who has never read a Terry Pratchett book, I really had no idea what to expect when I attended the opening night of Mort, the second production in Erith Playhouse’s current season. There was already a bit of a buzz around the show and producer Terri McCann (in her directorial debut at the Playhouse) had presented the project with such enthusiasm at the Season Launch, that I had a feeling I was in for a bit of a treat.

Published in 1987, Mort is the fourth novel in Pratchett’s much-loved Discworld series and is the first to focus on the character Death, who only appeared as a side character in the previous novels. It was apparent immediately on stepping into the theatre foyer that the production had attracted something of a new audience, with several Pratchett enthusiasts clearly in attendance.

Apparently as a teenager, Mort had a personality that made him unsuited to the family farming business and the story opens with his father, Lezek, taking him to a local hiring fair in the hope that he will obtain some kind of apprenticeship. Mort, at first, has no luck attracting the interest of an employer. Then, just before the stroke of midnight, a man concealed in a long black cloak arrives on a white horse. He says he is looking for a young man to assist him in his work and, to his father’s delight, selects Mort for the job. The man turns out to be none other than Death, and gives Mort an apprenticeship in “ushering souls into the next world.”

When it is a princess’s time to pass on (according to a complex preconceived reality) Mort, instead of ushering her soul effectively, actually saves her from death, dramatically altering a part of Discworld’s reality and pushing the princess into what seems to be a some kind of shady halfway-house. The princess does not have long to live, and Mort must try save her, once again, from a seemingly inevitable death.

As Mort continues run Death’s errands, he begins to lose some of his former character, almost starting to morph into Death himself. Death, in turn, yearns to find out what being human is like and travels to Ankh-Morpork to indulge in new experiences and attempt to feel mortal emotion. In the end, Mort must fight Death not only for his freedom, but his daughter’s hand.

Martin Gilby gives a superb performance as Death, taking the character literally in his stride as he glides about the stage, white-faced and sunken-eyed on stilts, swathed in a black cloak, his voice amplified with an eerie, booming effect. He is an absolute sight and sound to behold and his creation is clearly not only a product of the director’s vision and his own spot-on interpretation, but a brilliant team effort by Wardrobe (Elizabeth Foster), Props (Sue Newman), Sound (Steve Nash) and Lights (Simon Dinsmore, Adam Davis and Hazel Watts). Mark Fromings as Mort is equally triumphant, bringing the character to life and delighting the audience from the off with his ginger wig and the affable, easy demeanour he brings to all of his roles to make acting look far too easy. Someone remarked it was as though he had stepped straight from the pages of the book. Rebecca Liquorish as Death’s daughter, Yasabell, who also becomes Mort’s unlikely love interest, also puts in a strong performance as do Roger Butler as Albert, Kate Richardson as Princess Keli and Anthony Denford as Cutwell. They are supported by an excellent ensemble, who not only play five or six roles each but, along with a hard-working backstage crew, act as “scene-setters”, manoeuvring flats to effect a whopping twenty-five seamless changes. Special mention must go to Suzanne Whitnall’s spectacular interactive door knocker and Jane Ghost-Cavanagh’s insalubrious lady of the night who takes Death’s experience of mortal life to another level.

Terri McCann’s staging is simple, yet effective, interspersed with special light, sound and multimedia effects to create a version of Discworld that visibly delighted the audience. I must say, as a Pratchett novice, I found the story a little difficult to follow at times, but this did not detract from my enjoyment. A debut directorial creation to be very proud of indeed.

Two’s Company’s efforts to revive long-forgotten classics continue at Southwark Playhouse with A Day by the Sea. The play, written by N.C. Hunter, heralded as the “English Chekhov”, but shamefully overlooked in his day, arrives in the wake of several other successful productions by the company in recent years, namely What the Women Did (2014), The Cutting of the Cloth (2015) and The Fifth Column (2016).

Set in Dorset on an idyllic summer’s day in 1953, the play focuses on the Anson family. Julian Anson, a diplomat based in Paris, is taking time out of his work-orientated existence to visit his parents at the original family home. He is surprised to find an old childhood friend also visiting with her children and trying to recover from a scandal concerning her marriage. Julian’s mother has always wished he would settle down and marry, but he scornfully resists. The family plan a day out for a picnic on the beach which, rather than offer Julian the relaxation it should, serves only to provide the backdrop for unexpected disappointment.

Act One sets the scene, and, initially, things moved a little slowly with a few bungled lines, awkward pauses and late sound cues. Everything felt a little bit dated, with the script seeming to meander along aimlessly and the odd topical political quip and comment about war and “the ridiculousness of men” forming the only real connections between the piece and modern life. By the interval, l was a little concerned that this revival was no contender for some of the company’s earlier work, both in terms of the material on offer and the production itself.

Everything perked up enormously for Act Two, however, with the actors seeming to find their confidence and/or overcome nerves, and the action becoming pacier and moving from situation-building to the outpouring of raw emotion and regret, with the sea setting the scene for confession and proposition.

John Sackville’s austere Julian who, having just faced a monumental blow to his career, begins to reflect on a life which has, until now, been dedicated to work. He laments lost opportunities, articulating the real Chekhovian feelings of loss and lack of fulfilment to which we can all relate. This results in a somewhat awkward exchange between he and Alix Dunmore’s serene Frances Farrar, who delivers a fine central performance, managing to combine detachment and humility throughout. Their situation is comically mirrored by Stephanie Willson’s pitiful Miss Mathieson, the childrens’ Nanny, who, seemingly terrified of becoming an ‘old maid’ embarrasses herself terribly with Doctor Farley (played humorously by David Acton).

The play is a little long, but, once it gets going, deals sensitively and openly with the human condition. Combined with the excellent comic timing of Susan Tracy’s Mrs Anson, the numerous amusing interjections of Davids Acton, Gooderson and Whitworth and Alex Marker’s lovely set, this isn’t a bad evening’s entertainment at all.