23 April – 3 May

Laura Lomas’ electric and enthralling adaptation of August Strindberg’s Miss Julie –  The House Party –  proves the same class frictions and toxic relationships thrive in 2025.  At any teenage house party you’ll find a Julie and a Christine. One revels in self-destructive chaos, whilst the other picks up the pieces. Throw a boy into the mix and watch the friendship self-combust before your very eyes.

The play opens with Julie (Synnøve Carlsen) and Christine (Sesley Hope) pre-drinking in preparation for Julie’s 18th. The tension between the two friends is laid bare from the beginning. A heartbroken Julie is desperate for her best friend to join her in a marathon drinking session, but Christine’s reluctance hints that something is about to blow this relationship apart. 

The drawn out first scene may have resembled that tedious anticipation of many people arriving, (or not), to your party a little too closely at times, but the arrival of Jon (Tom Lewis), sparks an allure of sexual tension that feels impossible to ignore. The last scene  also felt a little too drawn out at times, but perhaps created a necessary balance to the high octane drama the forms the centre of the play.

We are transported by the mesmerising performances of the cast. Carlsen, Hope and Lewis each expertly capture the dizzying heights of emotions at that poignant time, where children must suddenly navigate an adult world.  The dynamism of the ensemble, choreographed by Frantic Assembly, breaks us out of the kitchen sink drama and into the heady ecstasy of a house party. 

Orel Elstein’s set design successfully creates multiple worlds in one space, from the unfolding drama in the soulless show home kitchen to the electric living room dance floor. The authenticity of props such as the iconic tequila bottle with the red hat, which every millennial took a shot from as a rite of passage, shows attention to detail that brings this world to life. 

The class friction between Jon and Julie remains true to the original play. Jon’s conflicting repulsion and desire towards Julie speaks to a tale as old as time –  that of misogyny – carried into 2025 through the modern prisms of slut-shaming and nude sharing. And, beautifully captured by Lomas, there is bubbling under the surface that emotional servitude that comes with friendship with people like Julie, and its devastating impact.

★★★★☆  Beth Teverson, 24 April 2025