At its core, Read My Lips is a story of promises, paranoia, and the seductive pull of desire. Lia and Bryn’s relationship begins as one forged in the kind of intensity that feels eternal. Yet, as Bryn begins to suffocate under the weight of their “forever,” the arrival of roommate Carter’s guest – Ellie – unsettles the balance. Enigmatic, alluring, and just a little dangerous, Ellie forces everyone in the flat to confront hidden truths. While Carter and Bryn inch closer together, Lia’s mistrust of Ellie spirals into obsession. Is Ellie merely a guest with an intoxicating openness, or a malevolent intruder shaping the world around them?
From its opening moments, the production lures its audience into a world thick with unease. There’s an undercurrent of menace woven through the atmosphere – not overt, but a shadow lurking beneath the surface. The direction wastes no time in setting tone and tension, planting us directly in Lia’s headspace where suspicion and dreamlike unreality intertwine.
Lighting plays a crucial role in amplifying the show’s impact. At times subtle, at times starkly dramatic, the design adds an extra layer of storytelling that the text alone could not achieve. It sharpens moods, blurs boundaries between real and imagined, and heightens the sense of claustrophobia that builds as the story edges toward its climax.
The script itself is smartly constructed. It balances psychological tension with moments of sharp intimacy, pulling the audience into the fragile lives of its four characters. The dialogue never drags, and every beat feels purposeful. We’re drawn into the complexity of relationships that seem stable on the surface but are riddled with fractures just waiting for the right pressure to split them apart.
The performances bring this script vividly to life. Of the four-strong cast, the standout is undoubtedly Ellie. She is played with a magnetic duality – simultaneously charismatic and unsettling, her presence on stage is impossible to ignore. As her role grows more ambiguous, so too does our fascination with her. Lia, meanwhile, offers a poignant and layered journey. At first quiet and uncertain, she slowly unravels into paranoia and trauma, her breakdowns are both convincing and heartbreaking. Her portrayal captures the suffocating reality of suspicion and the devastation of betrayal.
If there is one area where the production could be tightened, it lies in the characterisation of Bryn. While the script gives Lia and Ellie fascinating trajectories, Bryn sometimes lags behind in depth, leaving the emotional stakes slightly uneven. Yet this is a small quibble in an otherwise compelling and tightly woven production.
What makes Read My Lips remarkable is its ability to hold its audience from start to finish. The direction is assured, the pacing crisp, and the atmosphere consistently electric. Rarely does a show at the Fringe manage to combine such psychological intrigue with such watchable performances.
It may have closed its run at the Fringe, but Read My Lips is a piece that deserves to live far beyond it. With a few tweaks, it could evolve into a runaway success. As it stands, it already has the makings of one – a clever concept, an engaging script, and performances that will haunt you long after the final blackout.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Psychological Theatre At Its Finest- 5 Stars
