A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine had to go to A&E on the advice of 111 operatives. It was a rather frustrating night, largely spent wondering how long Teleshopping could continue assessing the same two items (its entire runtime, as it turns out). What I didn’t realise at the time was that I was actually doing some very astute pre-review research for Orla Wyatt (writer/director) and Wide Eye Productions’ brilliant new play A&E. (My friend is fine; 111’s advice seems to have been largely cautionary.)
We’re in a waiting room in a Woolwich hospital. Early evening, June 2024. We’re told all this through projections on the Burton Taylor’s back wall, each one accompanied by a booming sound effect. Though I found this opening exposition a little too full of comic asides, I was clearly in the minority in a packed first-night audience.
But once the play moved into its real action, I was fully onboard. Almost exactly an hour in length, it is, essentially, a dialogue between Evie, a recovering drug addict (Maisie Lambert), and convict Adam (Ollie Milligan). And what an exceptional dialogue it is. The two range over subjects as diverse as prison food, poorly planned tattoos, and music. A reference to the Drake/Kendrick Lamar feud provides a delightful period touch, if a play set last year can have those. Eventually, however, their conversation turns to the uncomfortable corners of both their lives. Lambert’s monologue, in which Evie finally explains the circumstances that led her to the emergency room, is a standout moment. The depth her character gains over the course of the play is truly extraordinary, a pointed rejoinder to those who took her first moments as a slightly odd, itchy, tracksuited layabout at face value. Mannerism and compulsion intertwine with incredible delicacy in Lambert’s performance, making for an impeccable transition from caricature to person, and leaving me reflecting on the brash, quite nosy middle-aged woman in A&E during my own visit.
Milligan’s boyish exuberance provides an excellent foil to Lambert’s joviality, but Adam is certainly a compelling character in his own right. In prison for grievous bodily harm against his ex-girlfriend, his gradual reveal of childhood abuse at his brother’s hands feeds into the growing cultural urgency to examine the roots of male violence. The feeling of watching a slightly older Jamie, the 15-year old killer from Netflix’s Adolescence, was hard to shake off. The pair’s growing closeness is encapsulated by the play’s masterful climax, an explosion of the anger rumbling underneath the banter about risotto.
This is a climax dependent on the breathtaking synchronicity of the action on stage with the work of lighting and sound designers Ben Tilley and Ice Dob (not in the tech booth though – more on that later). The precision of the lighting cues especially was pinpoint, while the hilariously jarring musical interludes move us through the interminable wait times, thus allowing Adam and Evie’s conversation to flow without seeming overly scripted. (And yes, they note the biblical parallel – its weight in the play’s symbolic language can be made surprisingly hefty indeed.) Meanwhile, the strobe lights and panicked stage set-up at the play’s beginning ensure we get a foretaste of the emotional heights to come before the ball even gets rolling.
The play’s opening also introduces us to the wonderfully-named Sandwich Lady (Trixie Smith), in A&E due to a cut sustained while working in a soup kitchen (she does it three nights a week, you know). Her Gail’s bag and brilliantly cringe attempt to Clap for Carers at the hospital’s receptionist (Ice Dob – told you) give the character, like Evie, a grounding in caricature, but her frustration at her gastronomically-challenged husband and overbearing boss make sure she doesn’t descend into cliche. Smith’s performance is also well-varied, hitting just the right balance between sweetness and venom (especially when the phone is handed between Sandwich Lady’s family at the other end of her call). As receptionist, meanwhile, Dob does the bare minimum of administrative work with spectacular performativity.
The pair also play Adam’s police officers, and their switches between these roles provided plenty of humour (some of it possibly unintended) in and of themselves. Dob’s occasional difficulties (perfect whether planned or not) with the Taser play brilliantly against Adam and Evie’s discussions over the object as a status item. Together with the unnamed patient who has the unenviable role of squirming on a chair at the back of set for almost the whole show, Dob and Smith provide a brilliant backdrop for Lambert and Milligan to work with. Their more simple characterisation is an excellent choice on Wyatt’s part; and all three do excellently to wring as much character from the roles as they do.
A&E is, put simply, an exceptionally-crafted piece of theatre. A perfect balance of comedy, satire, and deep compassion, it marks an excellent start to Wide Eye Productions’ entry into the Oxford theatre scene. Special mention must go to Wyatt. After this success, spotting her name on a ‘new writing’ bill will certainly be enough for me to be sitting in her audience.
[A&E by Wide Eye Productions is running at the Burton Taylor Studio, 18-22nd Nov, 2025]