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Sharp Edges Review: Sophie Max Delivers a Powerful Tale of Family Secrets, Childhood Trauma and Revenge

November 13, 2026 at 9:44 am · Filed under Solo show, Solo Theatre, Theatre, Theatre Review ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

★★★★★ Families can do terrible things to one another, and the effects aren’t always obvious at the time. Children are particularly vulnerable. They rely on adults to explain the world to them, and when those adults conceal the truth, manipulate events or behave abusively, the consequences can last a lifetime.

These were some of the thoughts I took away from Sharp Edges, a one-woman play written and performed by Sophie Max and directed by Blair McAlpine, which I saw at Camden People’s Theatre on Thursday evening.

It’s a bleak play. Not depressing exactly, because I found it both absorbing and thought-provoking, but there’s precious little hope in it. I left wondering about dysfunctional families, the stories people tell themselves about their childhoods and how badly those early experiences can shape their lives.

The play takes its inspiration from Sophocles’ Electra, although no knowledge of Greek tragedy is needed to appreciate it. Max plays Ellie, a young woman attempting to understand a childhood marked by violence, loss and family secrets. Her father and older sister disappeared when she was six. She has grown up idolising her father, while her relationship with her mother is deeply troubled. Much of the drama concerns the distance between what Ellie believes happened and what we gradually begin to suspect is the truth.

When I interviewed Max before the production, she talked about the way children construct explanations for frightening events they don’t understand. Sometimes these stories are a means of protecting themselves. The difficulty comes later, when the adult has to confront the possibility that the version of events they’ve carried around for years is simply wrong.

That idea lies at the heart of Sharp Edges, and Max handles it particularly well.

What impressed me most about the writing was the way it gradually revealed the darker aspects of Ellie’s childhood. There is relatively little explicit explanation of the abuse and violence that have shaped her life. Instead, we are given fragments of information, odd remarks and details that initially seem unimportant but become more disturbing as the story develops.

It reminded me of the better sort of psychological horror film, where what you suspect may be happening is often more frightening than anything shown directly. You start putting things together, sometimes almost without realising it, and find yourself thinking that the situation is rather worse than you first imagined.

There were moments when I could sense where the story might be heading and hoped I was mistaken.

I particularly admired this restraint because it’s quite difficult to achieve. A writer has to trust the audience to recognise what is being suggested without having everything explained. Max does this with considerable skill, allowing a sense of dread to develop gradually. The things left unsaid are often the most disturbing.

Her performance is excellent. Carrying an entire production on your own is no small achievement, especially when the material is so emotionally demanding. I found myself paying particular attention to her facial expressions and body language. There was a great deal going on beyond the dialogue, and she communicated much of Ellie’s anger, confusion and vulnerability through movement and expression.

Some of the strongest passages brought together the quality of the writing and Max’s abilities as a performer. I was particularly struck by the sequences in which Ellie talks about being in the sea. The descriptions were vivid, but it was the delivery that made them memorable. Max managed to give the words a physical quality, so that you could almost experience what she was describing.

There was also a recurring passage about the different ways someone might be killed with a knife. This was repeated at intervals, although never quite in the same way. Changes in emphasis, movement and delivery gave it an increasingly ritualistic quality.

I thought this was particularly effective. The repetition was unsettling, but it also suggested how deeply violence had become embedded in Ellie’s thinking. It was no longer simply something associated with events in her past. It had become part of her imagination, something she returned to and rehearsed.

We are left wondering how far that process might eventually go.

The connection with Electra is clear enough. In the Greek tragedy, revenge is bound up with grief, family loyalty and an understanding of justice that is far from straightforward. The characters justify their actions by reference to what has been done to them, although the family history contains plenty of wrongdoing on all sides.

Max brings those concerns into a contemporary setting. Ellie wants to put things right, but what does that actually mean? Is revenge a form of justice, or does it merely perpetuate the violence that has already damaged so many lives?

The play doesn’t provide reassuring answers, which is probably just as well.

I did, however, have some reservations about the writing. There are descriptive passages that go on longer than I think they need to. Some are beautifully expressed, and I enjoyed them, but occasionally I felt the point had already been made and the description was continuing unnecessarily.

This is particularly noticeable because Max is capable of being so economical elsewhere. When she is hinting at the darker aspects of Ellie’s family history, a few words can achieve a remarkable amount. I would have liked to see more of that discipline applied to some of the longer descriptive sections.

A little trimming would improve the pace without sacrificing the quality of the writing. Indeed, I suspect some of the stronger passages would have even greater impact if the production moved through certain sections more quickly.

The staging is minimal, consisting largely of the suggestion of a room, a window and a doorway leading elsewhere. There’s little detailed scenery, but I didn’t feel anything was missing. The production relies on Max’s performance and the audience’s imagination, and the simplicity of the set suits it.

Lighting and sound are both used very effectively. The lighting helps establish the changing atmosphere, while the sound provides transitions between different moments and situations. In a play where the physical surroundings remain largely unchanged, these elements are particularly important. Blair McAlpine’s direction makes good use of them without distracting attention from the central performance.

There is some humour, although rather less than I had expected. A few lines drew laughs from the audience, but for most of the evening people were very quiet, concentrating on the story. It was certainly not an audience inclined to interrupt the performance with much visible reaction.

I had expected a little more lightness, partly because Max had spoken about Ellie’s humour in our earlier interview. She was keen that the character shouldn’t be defined entirely by what had happened to her, and described her as witty, stubborn, imaginative and capable of making people laugh.

Those qualities are present, but they are heavily overshadowed by the darker material. I don’t necessarily regard that as a fault, although it contributes to the overwhelming bleakness of the production.

That bleakness was probably my main reservation, apart from the occasional lack of economy in the writing.

There is so little suggestion that Ellie might be able to escape the influence of her childhood or find a more hopeful future. I realise that this may be precisely what Max intended. Trauma doesn’t simply disappear because someone recognises its causes, and there is no reason why a play should offer an uplifting conclusion to make its audience feel better.

Even so, I wondered whether there might have been room for some indication that change was possible. Not a happy ending, necessarily, but a little more recognition that people can sometimes move beyond the circumstances that have shaped them.

Perhaps that would have weakened the play’s central argument. I’m not entirely sure. But it was something I found myself thinking about afterwards.

There is a wider social issue here, too, which Max clearly recognises. In our interview, she spoke openly about being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and explained that her work is partly motivated by a desire to represent the experiences of women and children harmed by people and institutions exercising power over them.

She also rejected the idea that stories like Ellie’s should be regarded simply as isolated family tragedies. I think she’s right.

We have had inquiries, investigations, reports and promises of reform concerning the abuse of children, yet cases continue to emerge in which those responsible for protecting them have failed. Sometimes the warning signs were missed. Sometimes they were ignored. And sometimes the people involved were simply not believed.

The family itself can become an obstacle to understanding what has happened. Children may feel loyalty towards adults who have harmed them, or construct explanations that allow them to preserve relationships on which they depend. Those explanations can become deeply ingrained.

One of the uncomfortable questions raised by Sharp Edges is how much responsibility people bear for behaviour rooted in experiences over which they had no control.

Ellie can be angry, obsessive and disturbing. We don’t have to approve of everything she thinks or intends to do, but the play encourages us to consider how she arrived at that point. Understanding someone’s behaviour is not the same as excusing it, and Max doesn’t ask us to make that mistake.

The production’s association with One in Four, which supports survivors of childhood sexual abuse, is welcome. Such organisations perform valuable work, not only in supporting individuals but also in challenging the silence and misconceptions that allow abuse to remain hidden.

I think Sharp Edges would provide an excellent starting point for a discussion about these issues.

In fact, one of my regrets was that I went to the performance alone. I would have liked someone to talk to about it afterwards, perhaps over a drink in the theatre bar. There was plenty to discuss, and I suspect different people would have taken quite different things from the experience.

I would have been interested to know whether others shared my reservations about the lack of hope, or whether they thought a more optimistic approach would have undermined the drama. I would also have liked to hear their interpretations of some of the things that were only partially revealed.

For me, that is one of the play’s greatest strengths. It leaves room for disagreement and interpretation. It doesn’t simply present an account of childhood trauma and tell us what to think about it.

Sophie Max has written an intelligent, challenging play and gives an excellent performance. Her ability to suggest terrible events without spelling them out is especially impressive, and the gradual accumulation of disturbing details produces a real sense of dread. The production would benefit from tightening some of its descriptive passages, and its unrelenting bleakness will not appeal to everyone. Nevertheless, I found it affecting and difficult to forget.

What stayed with me most was the thought that a child can grow up believing a version of events that bears little resemblance to what actually happened, and that an entire adult life can be built around those misunderstandings. By the time the truth begins to emerge, the damage may already have been done.

I walked out of Camden People’s Theatre into the London night wishing I had someone beside me to argue with about what I’d just seen. Instead, I found myself turning the questions over in my own mind.

And I’m still doing that.

For a play about the terrible consequences of things left unsaid, Sharp Edges gives us an awful lot that needs talking about.

By Pat Harrington

We interviewed Sophie Max here

The production supports the work of One in Four, a charity providing specialist counselling and support for survivors of childhood sexual abuse. To learn more or make a donation, visit Support us – One in Four

Sharp Edges

Written and performed by Sophie Max
Directed by Blair McAlpine
Camden People’s Theatre, London
11–14 November 2026

The production is associated with One in Four, which supports survivors of childhood sexual abuse. To learn more or make a donation, visit https://oneinfour.org.uk/donate/

Theatre information and tickets: https://www.cptheatre.co.uk

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Sharp Edges: Sophie Max on Family Secrets, Anger and the Search for Justice

November 7, 2026 at 8:49 am · Filed under Interviews, Mental Health, Solo Theatre, Theatre ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Families have a habit of creating their own versions of the past. Some are comforting. Others conceal things we would rather not confront. The ancient Greeks understood this particularly well. Their tragedies are full of family secrets, divided loyalties and people whose determination to put things right leads them into even greater difficulties.

Sophocles’ Electra is a case in point. Electra demands vengeance for her murdered father, Agamemnon, although he was hardly an innocent man himself. It raises an uncomfortable question: how much of what we believe about the people closest to us is actually true?

Writer and performer Sophie Max has taken that ancient story and given it a contemporary setting in Sharp Edges, a one-woman play at Camden People’s Theatre from 11 to 14 November.

Her central character, Ellie, is 24 and still trying to make sense of events that changed her life when she was six. Her father and older sister disappeared on the same night. She has grown up idolising one parent and resenting the other, but the truth about her family may be rather more complicated than she imagines. Now, with her mother threatening to throw her out, Ellie believes the time has come to settle accounts.

What interests me is that Max hasn’t created a character who simply invites our sympathy. Ellie is angry, stubborn, quick-witted and sometimes outrageous. The play is described as a dark comedy, which might seem an unlikely approach to such material. Yet humour often tells us more about people than solemn declarations ever could. It can reveal their contradictions, their determination and their refusal to be defined by what has happened to them.

The production, directed by Blair McAlpine, is presented in partnership with One in Four, a charity supporting survivors of childhood sexual abuse and related experiences.

Counter Culture spoke to Sophie Max about her fascination with Greek tragedy, the creation of Ellie, women’s anger, the uses of dark comedy and whether justice and revenge can ever really be separated.

The Interview

Counter Culture: One of the things that strikes me about Electra is that nobody in the family is entirely innocent. Electra worships her father, yet Agamemnon himself was responsible for a terrible act of violence against his own daughter. Your Ellie also idolises her father and feels alienated from her mother. Are you interested in challenging the stories we tell ourselves about our families, particularly when we’re too young to understand what’s really happening?

Sophie Max: Absolutely! Life is never that simple; people are way more complex, more full of grey areas, than we think. As a child, when you experience events you don’t understand or when the truth is hidden from you, you create narratives to explain things for yourself. It’s a form of protection. Then, you have to come back and recontextualise those stories as an adult. This is absolutely what Ellie is wrestling with in this play- the gap between her imagined version of her past, the stories she told herself, and the reality- and then what that means for the beliefs she’s built her life around.

We don’t always appreciate how scary it is to be a child in a dangerous situation. Children can sense when they’re not safe, even if they can’t always articulate it- or have the truth hidden from them by the adults around them. So it’s important to me that the play takes the stories Ellie tells herself seriously, and doesn’t ridicule her for holding these beliefs, even as we uncover what the truth is.

Counter Culture: Ellie is only six when her father and older sister disappear. At that age, you’re dependent on adults to explain the world, and sometimes those adults are hiding things or telling outright lies. How much of Sharp Edges is about the damage done when a child has to construct her own version of events, and then carries that understanding into adult life?

Sophie Max: That’s definitely a major thread within the play. Ellie has the truth of a lot of really massive events in her family hidden from her, and that impacts how she sees the world and how she thinks she needs to solve problems. Sharp Edges is about how growing up in a violent home, surrounded by secrets and lies, impacts the psyche, personality and relationships of a child. But it’s also about family, about cycles of violence, about justice vs revenge, and about how we deal with grief and loss.

Counter Culture: Revenge is central to the original Greek tragedy, but revenge and justice aren’t necessarily the same thing. Ellie believes she’s going to put right the wrongs of her childhood. Is there a point where the pursuit of justice becomes another form of violence? And can somebody who’s grown up surrounded by violence really escape that cycle simply by deciding to behave differently?

Sophie Max: These are exactly the big questions the play is hoping to provoke! Sharp Edges really wrestles with justice and revenge, what they mean, how they differ, and whether they have any meaning at all in such a violent world. We’re not used to seeing female characters face concepts like revenge and violence in this way- but I think especially in the world right now, we need to be asking ourselves these questions. How can we break cycles? How can we take back control of our own life while breaking cycles of violence we’ve inherited? They’re not easy questions with easy answers- but hopefully give the audience a lot to think about…and discuss after the show!

Counter Culture: You’ve spoken about being drawn to the anger and defiance of women in Greek tragedy. I think there’s something quite contemporary about that. Angry men are often portrayed as powerful or passionate, while angry women are still too easily dismissed as unstable or unreasonable. Do you think we’ve really moved on very far from the attitudes Sophocles was writing about?

Sophie Max: I think our society is still collectively so uncomfortable with angry women. That’s why I was so drawn to these characters and plays- even as a kid reading them for the first time, I sensed that these emotions weren’t ones we were ‘allowed’ to express as girls. Society is so ready to question, dismiss, ridicule, and even harm women, especially women bold enough to speak out. The world still expects victims and survivors to look and behave a certain way, or they are vilified. Modern society is uncomfortable with the very vocal expression of grief that was common for much of human history. At least the women in these Greek tragedies are given space, time and voice for their rage and grief, and allowed to express it without demonisation- on stage, at least!

Counter Culture: Your earlier play Banned explored a world in which reproductive rights are taken away, while Sharp Edges deals with abuse, control and the consequences of childhood trauma. There’s a common thread here about power and who gets to exercise it over women’s lives. Is that something you consciously return to in your writing, or does it emerge naturally from the stories you feel compelled to tell?

Sophie Max: I’m often motivated to write by big questions I’m searching for answers for, the things that make me sad, angry, uncomfortable, that keep me up at night. What do we do when faced with impossible choices? What happens when a scary reality crashes into our homes and lives? I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, so I think I’m drawn to writing stories that excavate women and children’s survival specifically, and the multitude of ways we live and rage and grieve and hope and survive when powerful people and systems harm us. I want to channel my own experiences into art which illuminates and represents the reality for my fellow survivors, and which hopefully at least gets people to think about change. Because stories have, I believe, the power to really impact people.

Counter Culture: You’ve described Sharp Edges as darkly funny, which might surprise people given the subject matter. But humour can be a way of surviving dreadful circumstances, and sometimes it’s the only means of expressing things that are otherwise unbearable. How important was it that Ellie should be funny, difficult and occasionally outrageous, rather than simply someone the audience feels sorry for?

Sophie Max: It was vital! Ellie is more than what happened to her- as all survivors are. It’s super important to me that she’s a whole person, not just the sum of her trauma. The voice that emerged as I built this character was quick, witty, acerbic, stubborn, imaginative, loving, angry, mercurial- a whole spectrum of the human experience. She’s the protagonist of her own story, and she’s definitely not to be pitied. Plus, pity kind of allows audiences to sit back and be ‘off the hook’, I think. Whereas I want the audience to care about Ellie, to root for her, to be involved, to will her to do (or not do) certain things- to be active.

Counter Culture: There’s an interesting practical detail in the story: Ellie’s mother threatens to throw her out. We talk a great deal about people escaping abusive homes, but leaving isn’t always straightforward when you’ve nowhere else to live or lack the money to support yourself. Did you want to explore how circumstances beyond an individual’s control can keep them trapped, even when they desperately want a different life?

Sophie Max: Definitely. There’s so many circumstances and elements which complicate situations like Ellie’s; it’s never as simple as just leaving. There’s also this pull in the play between leaving or not, that allows us to explore what justice means to her. I was interested in investigating: what does physical freedom mean after what she’s been through? Would leaving actually change anything? Would she even be able to feel free in her mind, without some kind of justice? Especially given the state of our justice system for survivors of domestic violence or sexual abuse, there is a part of me interested in questioning through the play how we find peace, or a different life, when ‘justice’ is so out of our control.

Counter Culture: You’re both the writer and the sole performer, which must create an unusual relationship with the character. You’ve also worked closely with director Blair McAlpine in developing the production. When you’re so immersed in Ellie’s world, how important is having somebody who can challenge your interpretation? Has Blair ever made you reconsider something fundamental about the character or the way her story should be told?

Sophie Max: As both a writer and an actor, it’s lovely to have someone I trust like Blair at the helm. I know our visions align, and our collaboration has really allowed me to realise my vision for who Ellie is in performance. Blair has definitely interpreted moments in the writing differently and we’ve discussed things deeply. That’s the joy of rehearsing- we get to try, experiment and blend all the different colours and ideas and aspects to figure out what works best for the story. One of my favourite things has been finding the moments of hope and lightness and joy- Blair has been so great at advocating for Ellie’s humour.

Counter Culture: The production is working with One in Four, which supports survivors of childhood sexual abuse and other forms of violence. I think that’s an important partnership because theatre can raise difficult questions, but people may need real support long after the performance finishes. What responsibilities do you think artists have when dealing with traumatic experiences, and what do you hope this partnership will achieve beyond simply raising awareness?

Sophie Max: My focus as a theatre maker when it comes to this issue, is on fellow survivors. I want us to feel represented, to be centred in the narrative, but not feel triggered, or like our experience is seen salacious, gratuitous, there purely to shock or as the butt of a joke.

In terms of this partnership, I’m thrilled to be able to raise awareness for One in Four’s vital work. It means we can signpost relevant support for anyone who needs it after the show. Beyond their work with survivors, One in Four do amazing advocacy work to increase public conversations around childhood sexual abuse specifically. The topic often remains ‘taboo’, yet only by opening conversations do we make it safe for survivors to come forward, and learn how to support them and how to prevent further abuse. I hope audiences can learn about their work and join the conversation.

Counter Culture: We’ve had inquiries, reports and repeated promises about protecting children from abuse, yet we still hear about institutions failing the very people they’re supposed to protect. There’s a danger that audiences see stories like Ellie’s as private family tragedies rather than recognising a wider social failure. Do you see Sharp Edges as a political play in that sense? And what would you most like people to question, or perhaps even change, after they’ve seen it?

Sophie Max: The reality is, we’re in an epidemic of violence against women and children, and it starts young- often younger than people are willing to face. One in Four states on their website: ‘Evidence shows as many as one in four adults have experienced some form of sexual abuse before the age of 18. Only one in eight children come to the attention of the authorities and 85% of all abuse is by someone known to the child.” It is, absolutely, a societal problem and honestly until it’s treated as such, until we stop seeing it as individual tragic stories and address the systemic issues, we won’t be able to stop it.

So absolutely, in that way, Sharp Edges is a political play. Ellie’s story is specific, but it is also universal. And I hope that audiences come out questioning what we can each do, in this moment, to change the culture of violence, or to support and advocate for survivors. What can we do when the systems built to protect us don’t, and many slip through the cracks?

Sharp Edges – Production and Ticket Information

Sharp Edges is written and performed by Sophie Max, directed by Blair McAlpine and produced by Zac Hamilton Wancke.

Venue: Camden People’s Theatre, 58–60 Hampstead Road, London NW1 2PY.

Dates: Wednesday 11 to Saturday 14 November 2026.

Performance times:

  • Wednesday 11 November – 7pm
  • Thursday 12 November – 7pm (Press Night)
  • Friday 13 November – 7pm
  • Saturday 14 November – 3pm and 7pm

Tickets: £12–£18, plus booking fee.

Running time: 75 minutes, without an interval.

Age guidance: 14+

Content advisory: Contains references to violence, weapons, murder and childhood sexual abuse. The production also uses atmospheric effects, flashing lights and loud noises.

Creative team:

Writer and performer: Sophie Max

Director: Blair McAlpine

Producer: Zac Hamilton Wancke

Set designer: Jida Akil

Lighting designer: Laurel Marks

Sound designer: José Guillermo Puello

The production is presented in partnership with One in Four, a charity providing specialist counselling, support and advocacy for survivors of sexual abuse. The partnership aims to raise awareness of its work and direct audiences towards appropriate support.

Book tickets directly through Camden People’s Theatre:

https://cptheatre.co.uk/whatson/sharp-edges

Box office: 020 7419 4841

Further information: www.cptheatre.co.uk

Sophie Max on X: @sophiemaxs

Read our review of Sharp Edges here

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Sissy Boy: Jake Bickford on Taboo, Identity and Fringe ’26

July 26, 2026 at 6:04 pm · Filed under Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Edinburgh Fringe Festival 2026, Interviews, LGBT+interest ·Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

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We had questions for Sissy Boy, and before getting into Jake Bickford’s answers, it’s worth grounding what the show actually is. At its centre is a Bristolian teenager on the cusp of leaving home for uni, caught between the safety of his childhood bedroom and the far less stable world of his online relationship with a dominant older partner. The play moves between humiliation, confusion, bravado with the lads at the local, and the private corners of the internet where he tries to make sense of desires he barely has language for. It’s a one‑hour, one‑man coming‑of‑age comedy that isn’t afraid to prod at taboos — not for shock value, but to ask what we hide, why we hide it, and what it costs to keep parts of ourselves unseen in a world that’s changing faster than he can keep up.

With that in mind, here’s the full interview:

I’ve spent the afternoon going through your material, and before we get into the questions, I want to say this: it’s always refreshing when a company reaches out with work that actually has something to say. There’s a clarity of intent in Sissy Boy — a willingness to sit in the murkier corners of identity without flinching — and that makes the whole exchange feel worthwhile. Below is a polished, press‑ready version of your interview, with each question bolded and your answers following cleanly underneath.

Your play digs into the “private, often contradictory spaces where identity is shaped” — what part of that inner world was hardest to put on stage?

Just like with any kind of closeted environment, creating a sense of believable secrecy while maintaining it as a safe sanctuary for the character is always a challenge. Sissy Boy is a teenager living in constant fear of being discovered by his family and friends, so his bedroom had to reflect that sense of a fragile safe haven, seen in details like his double password‑locked laptop and costumes hidden deep in boxes under his bed.

Like most teens, Sissy Boy doesn’t have a literal safe or secure lockbox; instead, he relies on the illusion of safety — those hastily stashed boxes under the bed could just as easily be found. While we aimed for a minimalist staging plan due to fringe constraints, the remaining essentials reflect his current state: our most private and intimate selves are often stored away in the hidden corners of our bedrooms.

You describe the piece as “darkly funny and disarmingly candid.” How did you decide where humour ends and discomfort begins?

While this story is not autobiographical, it does contain elements drawn from situations in my own life — experiences that, fortunately, I can now look back on and smile at, no matter how dark or damning they felt at the time. In British culture especially, one of our greatest strengths is the ability to turn our most tragic moments into scenes of dark comedy, which is why this show draws inspiration from works like Baby Reindeer and The Inbetweeners.

Much of the emotion in the piece comes from how comedy around taboos is double‑edged. People become so accustomed to making light of their own experiences that they can’t help but laugh — even when they perhaps shouldn’t. I’ve always found this repression and reluctance to show sadness deeply compelling. It’s something we explore in Sissy Boy, encouraging the audience to question whether they’re laughing out of joy, discomfort, sadness, or simply awkwardness.

The show moves between Bristol, London and the digital world. How did those three landscapes shape the character’s emotional geography?

At its core, this is a coming‑of‑age story about a teenager stepping into adulthood and, in turn, into himself. Sissy Boy dreams of becoming an actor, not just out of ambition but out of a sense that the only way he can fully express who he is will be through being someone else.

Moving from Bristol to London is framed as both destiny and escape. He’s excited to leave home and “finally be left alone,” driven partly by the desire to train and prove himself, and partly by a curiosity to explore the more private, taboo corners of his identity. But once he arrives, that sense of freedom becomes complicated. The pressures of training are far greater than he expected, and the past continues to pull at him through fractured friendships back home.

The online world reflects a sort of limbo where the mask he has to wear in both cities is taken off and Sissy Boy can finally be honest about his place in the physical world. The lack of landmarks and structure in this online domain gives us the opportunity to focus on the character’s true emotional state rather than trying to paint a scene of the world around him at that time.

You talk about “late-night chatrooms, anonymous relationships and real-world encounters.” What did you want to reveal about how men actually behave when no one is watching?

We wanted to shine a spotlight on the issue of young people (particularly young men) and their access to pornographic material, and how this can shape their development and interpersonal relationships. From an early age, Sissy Boy is exposed to grooming and harmful situations that are beyond his control, leaving him without the space to safely and securely explore his own sexuality.

Within dynamics of feminisation and domination, feelings of self‑disgust and shame can often emerge, even in consensual adult contexts. Experiencing elements of this at such a young age, compounded by his own mental health struggles in a modern, hyper‑connected world, is something we felt important to explore with care and nuance.

The play confronts masculinity without broad slogans — “not in broad terms, but in the private… spaces.” What’s the most uncomfortable truth you found while writing it?

One of the harshest realities I’ve come to recognise is how little support many men feel able to offer. From my own experience, the sense of being powerless to help friends and family in crisis is something I’ve struggled with for years — and, even through writing and performing this play, I’m not sure I’ve become much better at it.

That’s why I wanted Sissy Boy to speak particularly to male audiences, both young and old, and to encourage reflection on our own internal “boogeymen.” There’s no simple formula when it comes to mental health, and no guaranteed outcomes, but I hope this play can contribute to an ongoing conversation about how men can better support the people they care about, now and in the future.

You’ve said “we must strike while the iron is hot and push this kind of divisive and original theatre.” What feels most urgent about telling this story right now?

Everything with the manosphere, nationalism, and privatisation is rampant in our country, all of which is feeding far‑right views and reforms. Gender enforcement is a crucial one: when this play was written back in 2022, Sissy Boy would have had more opportunities to explore not only his sexuality but gender as it’s discussed in the play. It would still have been taboo, but now it feels even tougher, as laws like the Birth Sex Requirement are only a starting point for anti‑trans legislation.

The production is intentionally stripped back — “performance-led… leaning into language and immediacy.” How does that minimalism change the way you perform the piece night after night?

We draw a lot of inspiration from the audience, as you never know who’s going to walk through the door. While it isn’t a stand‑up show, it is a coming‑of‑age comedy, and we welcome all kinds of audience interaction. The piece is intentionally divisive and explores themes that may make people uncomfortable, so the more reaction we get, the more Sissy Boy has to play with. As an actor, responding to that energy is one of the most exciting and rewarding parts of the performance.

The character’s online persona blurs with his lived experience. What’s the moment in the show where that collapse feels most dangerous to you?

The most dangerous moment comes when Sissy Boy enters his first long‑term relationship, where he can no longer hide his online history and interactions. It’s a fear many people have faced, and something we wanted to portray with kindness rather than as another moment of humiliation for the character. You become quite attached to these characters as you write them, so it always feels meaningful when grace, understanding, and compassion are offered to someone living such a closely guarded life.

You trained at Fourth Monkey and you’re now three shows into building your own company. How did that devising background shape the writing of Sissy Boy?

My drama school gave me a strong foundation in devising work with minimal time, budget, and resources. During my second year, we were heavily impacted by Covid, and much of the in‑person physical training we had expected was no longer possible. This was a tough situation for any establishment doing acting to handle, not to mention a school built on physical performance.

We had no choice but to push through. Much of our work was created with little to no staging, costume, lighting, or budget, and in some cases we were even attempting to act via Zoom. It was far from ideal, but it forced a level of resilience and resourcefulness that has stayed with me.

I’m especially grateful to Poppy, our Head of 2nd Year, whose direction and support during that time made a real difference. And ultimately, I’m proud that my co‑founder and fellow student, Jesse Lamb, and I were able to carry that resilience into building something of our own — even if it wasn’t quite the lesson the school intended to teach us.

The play asks “what it costs to keep parts of yourself unseen.” After performing it, do you feel you’ve paid any of that cost personally?

Therapy would probably have been cheaper than doing the Fringe, there’s no doubt about that. But it’s an opportunity unlike any other, and I knew it would have to be something big to make it worthwhile. This is the hardest I’ve ever worked in this industry, as a writer, producer, and actor, and I know it’s only going to get tougher from here.

I’ve poured my heart and soul into this piece, and I hope people enjoy it and find something to reflect on. But even if they don’t, I can be proud that I didn’t take any shortcuts and gave it my best shot. So yes — I’ve put a lot on the line to get Sissy Boy to where it is now, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

My dad once told me as a kid that “Bickfords don’t quit,” so I’m ready to take this festival by storm and meet some amazing people.

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