Even These Things – Royal Exchange

Anniversaries are the central plank of this season at the Royal Exchange in Manchester, with both the celebration of 50 years since the theatre was established and three decades since June 1996, when the explosion of the largest bomb in mainland Britain since WWII devastated the heart of the city centre. The latter is commemorated with Even These Things, a new piece of writing by Irish Mancunian Rory Mullarkey which seeks to place the bombing within the cultural identity of Manchester’s history and explain its part in the renaissance of the modern city. As with the city it celebrates, Even These Things is a complex creation: beautiful in individual parts, but one that does not always work together as a cohesive whole.

The play comprises three acts — 110 minutes without an interval — spanning distinct periods in Manchester history: 1846, 1996 and 2026. It neatly sums up the rise of the ‘first industrial city’, from the teeming, messy roots of Little Ireland and Angel Meadow to the sophisticated urban jungle that is present-day Manchester. Many commentators trace the beginnings of this latter-day renaissance to one event: the IRA bombing of 15 June 1996, arguing that the devastation caused to the city’s infrastructure enabled the subsequent redevelopment of the city centre and acted as a catalyst for rapid growth over the ensuing three decades. Whether this ‘big bang’ was the driving force behind change, or whether other factors were already in place, is a debate for sociology students over matcha tea in the Northern Quarter. What is beyond debate is that it neatly charts the rise of ‘Manctopia’ and gives Mullarkey a central focus for this production.

Our first act consists solely of Annie Donovan (Elaine Cassidy), a young, pregnant Irish immigrant in 1846 Manchester, struggling to make ends meet in the slums of Angel Meadow. Standing alone on the bare stage without props, she delivers a blistering 40-minute monologue which is by turns funny, cruel, winsome, violent and heartbreakingly honest. Mullarkey channels Elizabeth Gaskell, Charles Dickens and Friedrich Engels through Annie in his portrayal of the condition of the Manchester working class during the Industrial Revolution, with Engels even receiving an honorary mention as ‘German Fred’ in a knowing reference. However, far from being a dry staging of 19th-century poverty literature, Annie emerges as a fully rounded character, determined to gain revenge on her nemesis Lizzie Crosby for the theft of her pig (also called Annie), actions that lead to her death in a grisly imagined fight scene played out before a raptly attentive press-night audience.

Cassidy is superb and imbues Annie with raucous humour and humanity. Whenever she earns a sixpence from selling matches, her desire for a large tot of gin always wins out over her need for fresh food — a trait familiar to her modern Mancunian successors. Cassidy leaves the stage after a 40-minute tour de force to a well-deserved standing ovation.

The central plank of the play is a series of vignettes depicting ordinary Mancunian life on an ordinary Saturday in June 1996. Jenny (Katherine Pearce) is our narrator and guide on this odyssey as we observe the hours leading up to the 11:17 detonation. The short, staccato scenes lean heavily into an almost stereotypical view of Manchester: football fans drinking in the pub ahead of England’s Euro ’96 game; street kids hanging around Piccadilly Gardens looking for suitable mugging victims; and a choir of children in bucket hats singing Oasis songs. All Mancunian life is here.

The swiftly changing scenes gave Director James Macdonald and Designer Laura Hopkins licence to have great fun, with a helicopter and a life-size statue of Queen Victoria descending from the roof of the theatre to hang over proceedings. Even a brief technical issue with a car on press night was dealt with using laconic humour by the stage manager’s witty observation, “what happens when you buy second-hand” — without doubt the most authentically Mancunian moment of the whole evening. All of it inevitably leads towards the blast itself, which was handled with balletic beauty and elegance by Movement Director Georgina Lamb, dust descending gently on the stage as it did 30 years ago.

Unfortunately, the final act did not live up to the great things that preceded it. Both Pearce and Cassidy were reintroduced as modern-day characters, and an attempt was made to tie the previous strands into an overarching storyline. In only half an hour, Pearce was left with the unenviable task of developing a character and eliciting sympathy for the loss of a child. Unfortunately, the necessary backstory was simply absent and audience reaction was muted. In a similar vein, Cassidy never really established a convincing link between this modern-day iteration and her previous characterisation of Annie beyond the superficial connection of Angel Meadow. The whole act felt awkward in execution and had the effect of bringing the evening to a muted conclusion.

Leaving the Royal Exchange in the twilight of a late spring Manchester evening, I took a short detour up Cross Street onto Corporation Street and stood on the spot where the 1,500kg bomb was detonated. At the time I was 30 years old and living in the city. My wife Amanda was in Manchester that morning, shopping ahead of her 28th birthday the following day. She was evacuated from Marks & Spencer on Deansgate and, in those pre-mobile-phone days, called me from a payphone to let me know she was safe. I loved her wholly and record this as my own memorial to that event.

Even These Things will invoke a similar Proustian rush of memories for many of my generation and also stands as a beautifully rendered theatrical testament to the resilience of Manchester.

Reviewer: Paul Wilcox

Reviewed: 20th May 2026

North West End UK Rating: