Disturbs the audience as brilliantly as intended - make sure you read the content warnings.
Rating
Excellent!
Philip Ridley’s The Pitchfork Disney looks at fear, fantasy, and the lengths we go to avoid reality. This was Ridley’s 1991 debut, and even now, it feels as shocking and uncompromising as it must have then.
Twins Presley (Ned Costello) and Haley (Elizabeth Connick) live in a suspended, drug-fuelled stasis, having retreated from the world into their small flat. Their world feels like a half-dream, half-nightmare, as they argue and quibble, haunted by a past event that has left them damaged shut-ins. Whatever that event was, it has left them preferring to imagine the outside world as a post-apocalyptic wasteland – although chocolate orange biscuits are still available at the corner shop.
In a fit of curiosity and folly, Presley lets in the flamboyant, beautiful stranger Cosmo Disney (William Robinson). What follows is horror, fever dream, and dark comedy in equal measure. Cosmo disrupts their fragile sanctuary, forcing questions about power, exploitation, and vulnerability. Ridley’s script examines how trauma breeds avoidance, how desire and danger intertwine, and how the unknown can be more terrifying than violence itself; blending horror with dark – dark – humour.
Costello as Presley is absolutely gripping, selling him as a small, tragic figure, desperate for contact and approval – unaware of his own need. His control and co-dependency are chillingly clear as he feeds ‘medicine’ to Haley, keeping her at home and drugged, perhaps in an attempt to protect her from the outside world he fears so much. His monologue about eating cockroaches is a tour-de-force – grotesque yet strangely poetic. Connick plays Haley with a fragile, eerie charm, especially in her dream-ridden mutterings that sound childlike and traumatised, spending much of the play drugged on the couch. Robinson’s Cosmo struts, sneers, dazzles, and terrifies. He’s someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley; all charm on the surface with something rotten underneath.
The set design by Kit Hinchliffe is effectively minimal; a small, cramped flat that immediately feels claustrophobic but oddly relatable. A battered sofa and a floor in need of a vacuum grounds the surreal horror in a strangely familiar domestic reality. Every worn detail makes the space feel lived-in, while also feeding the unease, as if the lurking danger could be caused by the shadows and dust around.
Max Harrison‘s direction is tight, matching Ridley’s gunfire dialogue and leaning into the unease between the characters, ratcheting up the tension bit by bit until it feels almost overwhelming. He handles this exceptionally well, leaving the audience unsettled throughout. The tone shifts constantly, teetering between grim horror and twisted humour, so you never quite know whether to laugh nervously or recoil. Ridley’s world is one of tension and instability, and Harrison’s direction leans fully into that, keeping every interaction sharp, uneasy, and electric.
Later, though, an assault scene proves deeply uncomfortable, dragging on to the point where many in the room look away. Even with the published warnings, it feels under-flagged and deserving of stronger notice. The website cautions that this is a heavy watch, flyers promise a “deeply unsettling” experience – they’re not wrong. The intent is to disturb, to knock us off balance as we spill out into the night, and in that respect, it succeeds all too well.
Nothing about it feels safe or comfortable. Every corner of the flat and every twitch of dialogue keeps you on edge, and the play doesn’t let up. Ridley’s mix of horror, dark humour and twisted tension lingers long after you leave, leaving you unsettled and somewhat breathless. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and thrilling at the same time. In the end, you realise the point isn’t just to shock, but to make you sit with that creeping unease – and it works as intended.
Writer: Philip Ridley
Director: Max Harrison
Producer: Zoe Weldon
Set & Costume Designer: Kit Hinchliffe
Lighting Designer: Ben Jacobs
Sound Designer: Sam Glossop
Fight Director: Lawrence Carmichael
Production Manager: Carrie Croft
The Pitchfork Disney plays at King’s Head Theatre until Saturday 4 October.
