Leaves of Glass plays at Park Theatre until 3 June. Bookings and further information can be found here. The four-person ensemble, comprised of Kacey Ainsworth, Katie Bucholz, Ned Costello, and Joseph Potter, delivers a tour de force performance. The setting, East London, 2023, is the canvas on which their characters unfurl – the hardworking Steven, the unsettled Barry, the lonely Liz, and the disillusioned Debbie. a b Goldman, Lisa (August 2012). The No Rules Handbook for Writers (know the rules so you can break them). Great Britain: Oberon Books Ltd. p.185. ISBN 9781849431118. As time goes on severe accusations towards Steven and dark moments from the past start to bubble to the surface; abuse, domestic abuse, extra marital affairs. Barry is also making accusations, which Stephen is keen to bury, to rewrite. The main theme in Leaves of Glass is memory, recounting stories from the past and the unreliability of any one person’s account and how these accounts can be swayed to portray them in a positive light; a key example is Liz saying she wished she had one of Barry’s paintings on her living room wall, when earlier we saw her say how horrible she thought these paintings were and why would anybody want them on their living room wall. Philip Ridley’s narrative twists like a freshly hooked fish, slippery, desperate, and hard to pin down. And like a freshly hooked fish, the chances of a happy outcome are very small indeed.

Exploiting the intimacy of the smaller auditoria at the Park Theatre, set designer Kit Hinchcliffe has created a perfect setting by which to underscore the menace that lies at the centre of Leaves of Glass. Set in the round, the four actors move in and out of the dark performance space which is marked only by inlaid floor lighting. Their proximity to the audience both when performing, and when entering and leaving, reinforces the claustrophobia of a family environment, creating a distinct sense of unease. Philip Ridley’s Leaves of Glass is regarded as a modern classic; the show premiered at Soho Theatre in 2007 in a critically acclaimed run which starred the now BAFTA-awarded Ben Whishaw. Now, 16 years on, Lidless Theatre brings us a new thrilling production of this four-hander. Credit: Mark Senior Devastating drama that blows up like a bomb; the play about memory you will never forget’London Pub Theatres

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The one I would really like to do – which I particularly think now has an even greater resonance – is The Pitchfork Disney. Cosmo is someone I would love to play. So, I’m putting that out into the world! The real triumph of Leaves of Glass is its ability to draw the audience into the very heart of its narrative. There’s no stage, per se, just a designated acting area that invites the audience to become part of the story. The proximity to the performers and the intensity of their emotions lends an air of voyeuristic discomfort as the audience is made privy to raw, private conflicts about depression, guilt, and regret. The drama is punctuated by shouting and brawling, heightening the sense of unease and making the audience feel as though they are not mere spectators, but complicit in the unfolding events. Cavendish, Dominic (10 May 2007). "Haunted by a painful past". The Telegraph . Retrieved 24 October 2018. During the course of the play, we see their interactions with each other and their two significant others, Steven’s wife, Debbie (Katie Buchholz) and their mother (Kacey Ainsworth), as a series of snapshots of their lives. Time passes in short bursts, each one charged with unspoken secrets. Both Katie Buchholz and Kacey Ainsworth play their parts with unspoken depth conveyed in glances and body language which makes the audience wonder what they actually know.

Unsettling, opening up topics audiences prefer to shy away from, that’s a function of theatre too. Ridley does it supremely well. He writes plays that delight in keeping the audience unbalanced, and this play is a fine example of that, juggling truth in a succession of sharp, focussed scenes that leave us with fewer certainties than we started with. It doesn’t make for a comfortable evening’s entertainment, but it is arguably more important because of it. And this production gives a superb platform for all that squiggly doubt. It is the second entry in Ridley's unofficially titled "Brothers Trilogy", having been preceded by Mercury Fur and followed by Piranha Heights. [5] [6] [2] Story [ edit ] Lidless Theatre and Zoe Weldon in association with Park Theatre and Theatre Deli present the first major UK revivalThe in-the-round seating arrangement wasn’t wholly suitable for the play, which really belongs in a more traditional proscenium arch setting – facial expressions and non-verbal reactions should have been seen by everyone at the same time. Debbie even mentions a particular stare Steven gives under certain circumstances, and I couldn’t help but notice an entire section of the audience couldn’t see it for themselves. The script is almost too poetical at times, given the hard-hitting (in more ways than one) storyline. It is too harsh to assert it’s no wonder there isn’t an interval because patrons might be inclined not to return for the second half. But it is also too harsh on the audience not to have one: at 105 minutes straight through, such a heavy and traumatic plot should have given us an opportunity to come up for air. I can’t wait for us to open! The play is a hall of mirrors: it’s constantly morphing as it unravels. I think that’s why it’s so thrilling, because you are left in its wake, not being told how or what to feel. Steven has always tried to be a good person. He works hard. He looks after his family. But, suddenly, everyone starts accusing him of things. His wife accuses him of being unfaithful. His mother accuses him of being coercive. And his brother, Barry, accuses him of…what exactly? You’ve starred in another one of Philip Ridley’s works before, The Poltergeist. What is it about his work that draws you in? Running at one hour and 50 sans interval, the play truly gets into gear at its midpoint, which is also where the performances step into their full potential. While the first part tiptoes around the subject matter, hinting at some big conspiracy while the characters seemingly gaslight each other relentlessly, the second climaxes in a confrontation between the brothers. This leads to irreversible damage. Harrison metaphorically builds a pipe bomb in a candlelit cellar. Darkness swallows them whole. The piece finally comes into itself, questioning the very definition of truth. Memories are presented as the fluid product of one's experience, which is what ultimately shapes one's reality. It's worth the wobbly start.