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Date Reviewed: 23/08/2025
When Strathmore Theatrical Arts Group's (STAG) director Brian Edmond first read Marian, or The True Tale of Robin Hood, he knew it was a play he wanted to direct. And he was right. This production wasn't just a good fit, it was proof that Edmond understands one of the most important truths in community theatre: cast well, and everything else flows.
Because the truth is, not every play works everywhere. We've all seen productions where the wrong show got forced onto the wrong stage, and the result was awkward at best. But not here. Edmond set his cast up for success, and they ran with it.
The characters felt tailor-made for their players. Olivia Fox’s gutsy Marian slipped seamlessly between her own identity and that of Robin Hood, embodying the roles duality with conviction. She was equally convincing as man or woman, especially in moments of raw vulnerability, like when Marian confided in the buxom Lady Shirley (Katie Possingham, radiating warmth and wit) about her forbidden love for Little John.
Then came Warrick Smith as Prince John, bombastic and gloriously self-absorbed. His elastic facial expressions alone deserved their own billing (think Rowan Atkinson in Black Adder). One moment he was a parody of petty royalty, the next a genuinely menacing tyrant. He was hilarious, magnetic, and utterly unignorable. Beside him, Bryce Hosken’s Sheriff of Nottingham gave the villainy bite, bluster, and a twitch of unhinged authority.
The rest of the cast deepened the forest. Mich Thomas (Will Scarlett) and Sharon Casey (Alanna Dale) delivered some of the most emotionally resonant exchanges of the evening, more impressive considering Casey also doubled as narrator. With charm and dexterity, she threaded together slapstick and sincerity without missing a beat. Hannah Phayre’s Tommy of No Consequence embodied the ache of wanting to matter, while Alex Radovan’s Much the Miller’s Son brought to life a journey of gender expression that landed with tenderness and bravery. Together, they reminded us that Robin Hood’s battle for justice is not just historical, it’s happening right now, in the ongoing fight to be seen and accepted.
And here’s the thing: by the end, I wasn’t sure if these actors were just playing roles’ or letting us glimpse their authentic selves. That’s how convincing they were. I wanted to sit down at dinner with them, to find out if Tommy’s aching questions about pronouns, or Scarlett’s quiet bravery, were character or confession. Because in today’s world, where the letters in LGBTTTQQIIAAPP2S+ keep expanding in our attempts to comprehensively capture identity, this production felt less like a play and more like a mirror held up to now.
Szymkowicz’s script, billed as ’gender-bending, patriarchy-smashing, hilarious, doesn’t exaggerate. It’s cheeky, it’s brave, and it’s threaded with social commentary about identity, power, and acceptance. From Gary Mills Friar Tuck musing about the Lord’s ’mysterious ways’ to groan-worthy dad jokes like ’How do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it, the script dances between pratfalls and philosophy, comedy and conviction. Edmond leaned into that tonal whiplash, sword fights and slapstick one moment, aching intimacy the next.
Of course, no community theatre night is without its quirks. Technical issues delayed the start, prompting whispered audience offers to ’help out’ from their seats, because that’s what community theatre is: audience and actors in it together. At intermission, two Italian greyhounds in sweaters bounded through the foyer, reminding us that STAG shows are part performance, part family reunion. Add tea, coffee, and free biscuits, and you’ve got something Broadway can’t buy: belonging.
And of course, what would a woke performance be without a black-and-white keffiyeh, draped around Robin's neck to signal her role as rebel and freedom fighter. To others, it risked distraction. But whether you loved it or not, it was a design choice that pulled Robin Hood’s centuries-old fight into the now, asking us to see justice not as folklore, but as urgent.
And that’s the essence of this Marian: a comedy on the surface, but a play with depth for those who wish to scratch beneath. About being true to yourself. About the messiness of love and gender. About injustice, then and now. And most importantly, about the joy of fighting back together, with laughter, with swords, with a bit of raunchy sex on creaky beds (thanks Lucy), and with friendship.
Because what shone through above all was that the cast were having fun together. You could see it in the way they played off one another, and the sense of community carried beyond the stage.
Support community theatre. It’s raw, it’s unpredictable, it’s joyful. It’s also where truth slips out between the pratfalls and where actors look less like characters and more like your neighbours, friends, family. Shows like Marian remind us: theatre doesn’t just tell stories, it builds communities.
Thanks to a cast who poured themselves into it and an audience who cheered them on, it was also joyous, heartfelt, and deeply human. Five stars for that alone.
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Reviewed by Mary Sinanidis