Some Explicit Polaroids, written by Mark Ravenhill and directed for Tower Theatre by Nick Edwards, was first performed in 1999. The play follows Nick, a political activist released from prison after 15 years, returning to a Britain that has changed considerably in his absence. He encounters Helen, his former partner, and a younger generation of Nadia, Tim and Victor, whose lives are shaped by sex, drugs, consumerism, identity and the search for belonging. Across these encounters, Ravenhill examines connection, disconnection and the changing social and political landscape of Britain at the turn of the century.
There is something fascinating about encountering a play written at the end of the 1990s and seeing how its questions around identity, desire, consumerism and connection resonate today. Ravenhill gives us fragments of several lives, each dealing with different ideas of want and need, and places them alongside the political disillusionment represented by Nick. The idea of connection and disconnection runs through the production. The six characters intersect in different combinations, sometimes briefly and sometimes more significantly, creating a network of relationships that never quite settles. There is also a clear generational tension. Nick returns with the political convictions of another era, while Nadia, Tim and Victor are negotiating a world where identity, sex, drugs and consumption have become part of how people understand themselves and each other.
The title, Some Explicit Polaroids, becomes particularly interesting through Max Maxwell’s projection design. Polaroids of the characters appear throughout the production, creating snapshots of these lives. I found myself wondering what these images actually capture. Is a photograph an accurate record of a moment, or simply one version of what happened? The idea works well alongside Ravenhill’s episodic writing, where we are repeatedly given fragments of people and moments rather than a complete picture.
The set design by Millie Weston and Emma Brown is one of the production’s strongest elements. The space is divided into multiple locations, including each woman’s apartment and a hospital, while the central area transforms into a street, an airport, the exterior of a strip club, the Thames and other settings. The scale of the world created within the theatre is impressive, and Samuel Littley’s lighting complements these shifts effectively. The sound design by Stanley Piper could have been enhanced further, while the projections could have been pushed into more inventive territory. The visual material adds an interesting layer, particularly through the polaroids, and I felt there was potential for it to become more deeply integrated with the storytelling.
Lulu Freeman is the standout performer of the evening as Nadia. She brings a restless, manic energy to the character while keeping her anxiety and insecurity visible underneath. There is a constant sense of Nadia trying to work out where she belongs and how much power she has within her relationships, and Freeman makes that uncertainty compelling. James Stephen Finn gives a strong performance as Nick, bringing a roughness and rawness to a man caught between the person he was and the world he has returned to. Alexander Astaniotis as Victor makes an equally interesting journey, beginning with a comic quality before revealing a more grounded side to the character. Rachel Bothamley as Helen brings a quieter weight to her scenes as she tries to balance between her past and present, while Andrew White’s Tim brings another dimension to the play, reflecting the vulnerability of queer relationships in an era deeply marked by the AIDS crisis. Elisha Sessions as Jonathan, who was attacked by Nick during a political protest in the 80s, is particularly effective in the more emotionally serious material and makes questions of insecurity and power especially visible. The dynamics around Jonathan and Nadia are particularly interesting in this regard. Both characters reveal different relationships to insecurity, control and power, and these moments give the play some of its sharper interpersonal tension.
Where I felt the production could develop further is in the relationships between the characters. Individually, the performances are strong, but some scenes felt as though the actors were delivering dialogue alongside one another rather than fully responding to each other. Ravenhill’s writing creates moments of considerable emotional tension, yet that tension did not always fully materialise on stage. More attention to listening, pauses, rhythm and the emotional exchanges within each scene could allow the writing to land with greater force. The transitions between locations, scenes and characters could also be made more fluid. There are frequent shifts in space and tone, and several times, just as a scene was building its tension and rhythm, the transition brought everything to a halt, followed by a noticeable silence. Reworking these transitions could give the production a stronger overall rhythm. It would also allow the genuinely slower moments to feel grounding and more deliberate, rather than simply feeling like pauses between scenes.
There is a lot to enjoy here, particularly the commitment of the actors and the production team. Ravenhill’s writing remains the most compelling element for me. Some Explicit Polaroids captures a series of lives at the brink of a new century, asking what happens to people when their ideas of politics, identity, desire and belonging begin to shift. Almost three decades later, those snapshots still give us plenty to look at.
Some Explicit Polaroids plays Wednesday 16th – Saturday 26th September at the Tower Theatre, Stoke Newington.
Reviewer: Gaurav Singh Nijjer
Reviewed: 16th September 2026
North West End UK Rating: