To rescue Kahlo from the clutches of the corporate art market, we need to acknowledge the overt and covert political dimensions of the work, demands GAVIN O’TOOLE
The Flea
Yard Theatre, Hackney Wick, London
NAOMI KUYCK-COHEN’s set intrigues as we settle in our seats; surreal furniture for a brothel and a sitting room, a weird Dali-esque desk and chairs on the upper level.
Then come the five actors marching on, their 12 roles named on screens. Costume designer Lambdog1066 seems to have scissored through many charity shop numbers, with mutton leg sleeves on some. What do these mean? Doesn’t matter — they look great. Call it punk Victoriana with a nod to Vivienne Westwood.
This introductory catwalk opens the emotional valves for the true (and embellished) story of the 1889 Cleveland Street scandal that rocked Victorian England, from dirt-poor Bermondsey, London to gold-rich Buckingham palace.
MARY CONWAY becomes impatient with the intellectual self-indulgence of Tom Stoppard in a production that is, nevertheless, total class
MAYER WAKEFIELD has reservations about a two-handed theatrical homage to jazz’s most mercurial musician
JAN WOLF enjoys a British revival of the 1972 come of age farce/panto Pippin
JAN WOOLF examines work that aims to give viewers a material experience of the environments in the polar north and Britain equally affected by the climate crisis


