Review: Aggy, King’s Head Theatre ★★★★

In his interview with Red Bus Londinium, Paul Bradshaw described Aggy as a play that “sensitively discusses race, gender, class and creativity, and how in today’s creative climate, those things are inextricably linked”.

At this, Aggy is very successful. It is a tender exploration of the intersectionality between all these elements of an artist’s identity. It is also a perceptive examination into the intensifying demands today, in some quarters, for the artist to be on sale as much as the art.

In Aggy, artist Lawrence (Matthew Jordan) is at times really quite unlikeable and self-absorbed. Blinkered to his own viewpoint, he complains that his whiteness is denying him opportunities, even as he lives in his glamorous London flat, provided by his parents. He does not always accurately see his partner Mahlik (Jean-Luke Worrell) for who he is: Black, working class, gay, kind. Sneering little put-downs underline his lack of respect for Mahlik’s life experiences: Margate? Why? Every year? How boring! Or there is the comparison of his having a Black boyfriend to his sister having a half-Greek boyfriend. It cleverly captures the emergence of that dangerous opinion that can form in people who are in a group that society has previously privileged: the reason I am having trouble breaking through is that others are profiting ahead of me.

Interesting too was Bradshaw’s playing with gender identity. The bounds became increasingly cloudy between what had started as an opportunistic way for Lawrence to sell his art and what had perhaps become, if not a final decision, at least something he wanted time to explore further. Bradshaw carefully keeps this ambiguous so we can make our own judgements, with Mahlik’s discomfort providing a mirror on how difficult gender decisions can be to make when those around us have their own sense of who we are.

The King’s Head works well for this show. We are intimately close, so really feel we are in their living room. A few moments played on the floor were harder to see from the back row, but co-directors Imogen Frances and Bradshaw have ensured that both the pace and the passion are there.

Clever projections (Matt Powell) elevated the storytelling. Artwork and stories were beautifully illuminated, especially a childhood story of Mahlik’s. The social media sections were well portrayed, with an ever more unhealthy and almost addictive blurring between life and content. Once, philosophers asked: “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” Now, influencers ask: “If an artist gets stuck in his boots and no one is around to see it, was he really stuck?”

Jack Grittins as social influencer Rex is only ever seen through his projected social media videos. This is an astute device that ensures we can only ever see him in his carefully curated version. Who is he really? Do we know? Does Lawrence really know? We are reminded that social media provides only unsteady knowledge and shaky foundations. People you follow are not your friends, no matter how many “Hey, hey, heys” and inspiration requests they proffer.

A play with so many political talking points could easily tip into the didactic or have the characters feel like mere vessels for the observations being made. Aggy does not fall into that trap. Lawrence, Mahlik and the version we see of Rex are fiercely believable. They are flawed and trying to find their way in an uncertain world. Aggy manages to be both provocative at a societal level and engagingly and affectionately domestic: a rare feat.

Booking details

Aggy (part of a double bill with tell me straight), by Paul Bradshaw

Monday 26 October to Saturday 14 November 2026

Age guidance: 16+
Content warnings: strong language, depictions of violence, scenes of a sexual nature, discussions of racism, gender and discrimination, flashing lights and haze
Book: https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/double-bill-tell-me-straight-and-aggy-t8hc

[Thank you to Chloe Nelkin for gifted tickets for an honest review].

Image credits: Image: Zoë Birkbeck

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