George & His Parma Violets by Michael Holland opens the evening with a monologue that begins by inviting the audience to recall their first heartbreak. Performed with charm by Phil Wilmott, the piece takes us through his romantic history. Holland’s melancholic reflections on love are given warmth and depth through Wilmott’s performance, setting an opening tender tone for the night.
Next is One for the Road by Dominic Durcan, which moves between two scenes: an actor and a corporate man’s unexpected meet-cute in a bar and their eventual break-up. Durcan’s structure of jumping from the beginning to the end of a relationship encourages the audience to imagine the story in between. Despite the interesting premise, the performances lack the chemistry and spark needed to fully ignite this romance.
Mugs Like Us by Michele Winstanley returns us to monologue, introducing a young woman from New South Wales arrested on suspicion of stealing from the shop where she works. Isabella Northrop delivers a humorous, high-energy performance, but the piece’s abrupt ending leaves it feeling inconclusive.
The first half closes with Closure by Kelsey Egan, in which two ex-boyfriends meet after their deceased mutual ex-girlfriend begins haunting one of them. It’s a bold and witty concept, with dialogue that overlaps and ricochets in a way that captures the chaos of simultaneous conversations. Under Dylan Zwickel’s dynamic direction, the pacing lifts the piece and rounds off the first half with energy.
The second half opens on No More Butterflies by Joe Facer, where two friends attempt to catch butterflies while also grappling with their fading university friendship. There’s a dystopian undertone, but the premise feels underdeveloped, leaving the audience unclear about the world we’re in and why.
With Carpaccio by Valeria Suaste, we return to a more grounded setting: a blind date that begins disastrously before shifting into connection. Themes of bisexual erasure and the dangers of being treated as an “experiment” emerge beneath the surface, though the swift turnaround in dynamic feels rushed. The story might benefit from a longer form to fully explore the natural rhythms of a date.
The Loud Speaker by Gregor Roach offers an In Bruges-style setup, with two men waiting in an Airbnb for “the call.” While Roach plays with absurdist touches, such as a fly that shifts the entire mood, there is little sense of what sits beneath the surface.
Closing the programme, Jupiter Toothpaste by Martina Cohen explores the fraught relationship between an influencer mother and her anxious daughter, as mediated by a therapist and the mother’s new partner. The concept feels like a full-length play condensed into a short, and consequently, at times it rushes through its ideas. Yet the piece leaves us with engaging themes and dynamics to reflect upon.
As with any showcase of shorts, the quality varies, but together these plays offer an engaging evening of compact stories with some satisfying in their own right and others sparking curiosity about what they might become in longer form.
Reviewed on 28 August 2025
