ajhlovestheatre

COSMETICS OF THE ENEMY 

Adapted from Amélie Nothomb’s novel and directed by Benedetta Scuto

Seen during a developmental run at Bread and Roses Theatre, London – September 2026

A thrum of unease and a tang of surreal humour runs through this short, sharp, gender-flipped stage version of Amelie Nothomb’s 2021 novel Cosmétique de l’ennemi. Being set entirely in an airport, the book lends itself especially well to theatrical adaptation, and author-director Benedetta Scuto has done a capable job of balancing dramatic tension and the ennui of the departure lounge. What starts as a Pinter-esque verbal cat-and mouse game between a pair of travellers awaiting developments on their delayed flights takes several unexpected, bizarre turns before exploding into recriminatory, thriller-like territory. 

Businesswoman Jenna Angust (a magnetic Jessica Mattarelli) just wants to read her book in peace but Jiminy Cricket-like, strangely named fellow passenger Texta Texel (Meghan Mabli) has other ideas. The show gets decent comic mileage out of Jenna’s irritation versus Texta’s bonkers relentlessness but there is clearly something else at play, and it’s consistently intriguing.

 Running at a tense forty five minutes, Cosmetics Of The Enemy is, in its present form, too brief to become fully engrossed in perhaps – the brevity inevitably means that the characters feel more like sketches than fully rounded human beings – but Scuto skilfully creates an atmosphere of chilly sophistication that creeps stealthily into hysteria as the play progresses. There’s a pretty seismic twist which explains some of the unanswered early questions – why is Texta so irritating and why won’t she leave Jenna alone? Who is the enemy she portentously refers to? Why doesn’t Jenna just walk away? – and, for the surprise to really work, it’s better not to have any knowledge of the book or any earlier adaptations. Some of the language and imagery is authentically startling.

 Mattatrelli displays flawless comic timing and impressively conveys undercurrents of real disquiet under Jenna’s elegant surface, goaded into sarcasm and, ultimately, outright aggression by Mabli’s hyperactive intruder. Mabli’s high energy turn as Texta reads more insane than sinister, and might benefit from dialling down the voluble mania in favour of something a little more subtle. To be fair, the play’s brief duration is probably the reason for such a go-for-broke interpretation, and Mabli is an undeniably engaging stage presence. Adam Wadge provides excellent support in a pair of contrasting cameo roles, but the show is really all about the women.

 Another interesting consideration in refocusing this story on women rather than men is that it arguably changes perceptions of what is male pattern behaviour as opposed to female; is the undercurrent of threat more or less acute depending on who’s involved? Scuto’s script and staging – décor-free apart from an airport terminal departures board – doesn’t offer answers, only a troubling but entertaining journey. Cosmetics Of The Enemy unquestionably deserves a further, possibly expanded, life. Invigorating, thought-provoking stuff.