ajhlovestheatre

SLIPPERY

by Louis Emmitt-Stern

directed by Matthew Iliffe

Omnibus Theatre, London – until 11 April 2026

running time: 75 minutes no interval 

https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/slippery/

There’s a special kind of theatrical alchemy that happens when a play’s writing, direction, acting and design are in perfect harmony. Watching Matthew Iliffe’s quietly compulsive, note-perfect production of this crackling gut punch of tragicomedy by Louis Emmitt-Stern, I couldn’t help but reflect how seldom it occurs. All the more reason then to hasten to Clapham’s Omnibus Theatre where Slippery is already staking a claim to be one of the best new plays of 2026. There may be more ambitious texts, charting a broader spectrum of human experiences and sociopolitical considerations, but if this year we get another London production that so stylishly achieves the goals it sets itself and with such detail, biting humour and emotional authenticity, it’ll be a lovely surprise.

Slippery is about a reunion of sorts. Jude (John McCrea) and Kyle (Perry Williams) were hedonistic club kids, and boyfriends, a decade earlier. They lost touch after splitting and apparently getting clean of drink and drugs, the former accusing the latter of abandoning him. Jude has had an accident and still lists Perry as his emergency contact despite now grieving for a different partner who died in the intervening years. Perry has his own things going on, including an increasingly successful career as an illustrator of children’s books, but here we are at 3am in Jude’s luxurious but soulless, (and not-fully-unpacked) Canary Wharf pad (gleamingly impersonal set design by Hannah Schmidt), and the men have just returned from A&E.

At first at least, Kyle is conciliatory, wry, nice, while Jude is brittle and defensive, clearly damaged spiritually as well as physically. Emmitt-Stern’s dialogue, urbane, snappy and exquisitely turned but shockingly raw when it seeks to be, bears the unmistakable hallmark of truth, masterfully suggesting the hurt in the silences and the frequent gulf between what people say and what they actually mean in difficult, emotionally charged situations. A satisfying vein of jet black humour runs through the script, which director Iliffe and his actors mine for all it’s worth while never losing sight of the sadness and antagonism between the two men…or the genuine affection.

McCrea, brilliant, combines waspish and vulnerable to devastating effect, and Williams invests Kyle with winning warmth and charm but also a watchful, unreadable ambiguity, the reasons for which become clearer as the play progresses. The chemistry between the two of them is extraordinary (this show is properly sexy!) and the play’s title accurately describes the constantly shifting power dynamics and attitudes of this pair of men whose volatile compatibility changes almost by the minute.

Iliffe (who also helmed one of the other greatest two handers I’ve seen in the last decade, 2022’s Bacon for the Finborough) marshals all this with a lightness of touch, mastery of pace, and attention to detail that serves the writing exquisitely. Great direction for essentially naturalistic pieces shouldn’t make viewers overly aware of the craft and that is the case here. At the same time though, every glance matters, every throwaway quip, every subtle gradation in Ryan Joseph Stafford’s lighting…every single thing works together, from the weighty silences to a chaotic food fight to the acidic disappointment emanating from somebody determined not to show how hurt they are. 

Neither Iliffe nor his actors strike a single false note, and what starts out as amused eavesdropping on an uneasy former relationship swiftly and steadily becomes absolutely riveting. We may not always be clear on what’s motoring Jude and Kyle’s interactions, but they consistently are, so we can relax into the journey and enjoy it. Thematically, the play is rich and bang up-to-date as the men discuss/bicker over everything from the significance of gay marriage and the dehumanisation accelerated by social media to cooking and careers. The picture of what happens to party people who try to sober up and grow up is painted in bold, neurotic, all-too-credible colours.

Initially, the bittersweet ending bothered me, as it felt like a bit of an inconclusive cop-out, but having slept on it, I rather think that’s the point: that messy connections between human beings don’t get wrapped up neatly. Go and judge for yourself, but do go…Slippery is world class theatre and if there’s any justice, this whole production will have a successful further life. Tremendous.