Lost Watches at Park Theatre: A Surreal Slice of Beat-Infused Theatre

Sarah
Aug 4
2 min read

★★★★

If you’re after a night that’s a little off-kilter, a little poetic, and a lot surreal, Lost Watches at Park Theatre might just be your ticket. Nestled in the intimate Park90 space, this new play by Lorenzo Allchurch is a swirling, dreamlike dive into grief, memory, and the strange ways we try to make sense of loss.

A man in a dressing gown holds pieces of a broke sculpture's face. — A metaphor for Allen's broken psyche. Photo credit Mark Senior

The story centres on Allen (played by Allchurch himself), a young man juggling three jobs and a crumbling home, haunted by the death of his mother and the looming repossession of her studio. It’s in this cluttered, sculpture-filled space that Allen begins to unravel—or perhaps transform—through encounters with ghostly figures, estranged family, and most memorably, a talking sculpture of Beat legend William S. Burroughs.

Yes, you read that right. A talking sculpture. And not just any voice—Jason Isaacs lends his unmistakable tone to Burroughs, sneering and cryptic, like a literary poltergeist. Isaacs never appears on stage, but his presence looms large, piped through a speaker embedded in the sculpture. It’s a highlight of the show, both eerie and oddly grounding, like hearing Kerouac whisper from a bookshelf or Thompson mutter from a bottle of Wild Turkey.

A man sits looking at a laptop, whilst a policewoman stands looking at him — Investigating the source of the noise complaints. Photo credit Mark Senior

The cast of three—Lorenzo Allchurch as Allen, Gabrielle Moran as a shape-shifting trio of mother, father, and sibling Jack, and Leah Aspden as PC Dread—navigate the play’s surreal terrain with gusto. Moran’s quick-fire costume changes keep us guessing, and Aspden’s Dread is a northern, no-nonsense foil to Allen’s spiralling psyche. There’s a moment where Allen asks for her number and she deadpans “999”—a rare laugh in a play that’s more haunting than humorous.

Stylistically, Lost Watches feels like flipping through a dog-eared copy of Naked Lunch or On the Road—fragmented, feverish, and full of strange beauty. The set, designed by Rob Davis, is a shed-like space crammed with sculptures and black boxes, while Ryan Watson’s projections and Nell Golledge’s lighting conjure a world that’s both claustrophobic and cosmic.

At just 70 minutes with no interval, it’s a short but intense ride. And if you’re making a night of it, I’d recommend grabbing a delicious pizza from the foyer—there’s something comforting about a hot slice after a play that leaves your brain buzzing and your heart a little heavy.