Review of Wilt at the Lambeth Fringe

Russell
Oct 30
2 min read

Woman and a man sitting on a settee, he is wiping her eyes — ***Photography by Edward J Felton***

⭐⭐⭐⭐

There are moments in Wilt that genuinely catch at your throat: the quiet admissions, the flickers of raw vulnerability between the characters. Yet at other times the production doesn’t quite hit the mark—it occasionally flits into a territory of overt theatricality or leaves you aware of the mechanics behind the performance.

The play opens on the day of Nadia’s (India Erlam) father’s funeral—and yet the mood is initially conveyed with a buoyant “joy” that feels hard to swallow. The first half struggles with believability: the laughter and camaraderie in early scenes jar against the context of grief, making the emotional stake feel uncertain. A recurring motif involving the “Mr Men” characters adds a touch of absurdity. While the idea could have been poignant, the execution drifts toward farce. The repetition of these moments begins to dilute their impact, and what might have started as a clever or endearing device becomes slightly laboured by the midpoint. It’s a shame, because there’s a kernel of something rich there: the intersection between innocence and grief, memory and loss, could have been far more affecting with restraint. Some of the dialogue feels “too much on the nose” too where the characters tell us how they feel rather than showing it—and that occasionally pulls you out of the moment.

By contrast, the second half is more grounded, and the real emotion begins to find purchase. As secrets unravel and Nadia and Elliott (Joe Northstone) are forced to face guilt, loss and connection, the tone shifts. Here the performances settle; the anguish and hope become more convincing; the script, in its quieter moments, earns its weight. There are scenes of subtle power where you believe the grief and pain, where the exchanges between the actors feel lived-in rather than posed.

However, that isn’t to say the stronger second half wipes away all issues. Even then, there are instants where the writing leans into sentimentality or the acting momentarily tips into histrionics. The ambition is clear, and the piece wants to wrestle with the stages of grief, relationships after loss, and the fragility of return—but at times the execution doesn’t quite sustain the promise.

Overall, Wilt offers a compelling payoff if you stay with it into its second half. The first portion may have you questioning its tone and emotional realism, but by the end you’ll likely be moved. It’s worth seeing if you’re up for a piece whose unevenness is offset by moments of genuine impact.

WILT comes to the Bread & Roses Theatre as part of the Lambeth Fringe, 13-14th October at 7:30pm and the Ustinov Studio at Theatre Royal Bath, 24-25th October at 7:30pm. For further information, please follow the links or contact SEGMENTs Company at segments.company@gmail.com.