Review of ‘Ron’ (2026, Riverside Studios): “Criminal comedy gets away with murder”

It’s bloody absurd. And bloody violent. But fortunately, not bloody awful. In fact, it’s everything but that. Although there is blood. A lot of blood. And the funny thing, which is something quite prominent in this show, is that you will feel drenched in it without even seeing the tiniest drop of it. It is that graphic. And yet, that dry. And haunting. Almost veering into the traumatic — confusingly, in the best possible sense of the word.

This is not stand-up comedy. Or so does its tagline claim. It actually is. Just not in the traditional form or understanding. To be honest, there’s nothing traditional about this piece. That doesn’t necessarily translate into avant-garde. Ultimately, it doesn’t push enough boundaries to make it that groundbreaking. Still, its individuality permeates. And it’s likely to grip, strike, and bludgeon its audience with its brutal characters, its harrowing events, and its uncanny humour.

It’s one of the oldest premises in the Coming-Of-Age book. But that doesn’t automatically translate into an archetypal plot. And for the most part, it isn’t.

Two friends who’ve grown up together share a stronger bond than anyone else could possibly experience. Or imagine. They’re there for each other no matter what. They trust each other no matter what. And they love each other no matter what. At least, one of them does. And that will ultimately seal his fate. And his pal’s.

The script compels through its fast-paced exploration of the power dynamics concerning a toxic relationship, where one’s obsession leads to a complete loss of their will. There’s nothing the protagonist wouldn’t do for his darling buddy, whether that be putting up a fight, kidnapping a McDonald’s cashier, or reclaiming stolen diamonds from the mafia.

It is as ridiculous as it sounds. But that’s what makes it brilliant. Not perfect, but brilliant anyway. The play is consciously foolish. And it uses that trait to its absolute benefit. Consequently, its subtext takes over. The themes of codependence, psychological abuse, and pathological infatuation pervade the recount’s illogicality, eventually bringing sense to it.

Writer Ted Walliker also excels as a performer. His execution brims with stamina. His range portraying several roles is effortless, varied, and rather convincing. And his presence is electrifying. He dominates the stage the same way that the main character’s love interest dominates him. And his approach brings the right balance of poise and drollery for each moment to work — camp yet not unnatural, extreme yet not far-gone.

There are a few surprises awaiting onstage. Yet, the majority of the act is staged in a black-box environment with virtually no props. The lighting design (also credited to Walliker) does a satisfactory job at creating a pulsating atmosphere. There is texture, and there is undertone. Not only does it build a visual journey, but also an emotional one. And its coalition with some classic techniques culminates in a theatrically effective outcome.

It should have been slightly longer. And even if some festival’s restrictions are to blame for that, a few small cuts should have been exercised to make room for what’s important. Yet, those tiny flaws are easily amendable in what, in the end, is a highly accomplished and rather insightful piece of new writing. It involves cannibalism. And audiences are likely to devour it.

All pictures credit to Percy Walker-Smith.

Ron plays at London’s Riverside Studios until 5 July. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara