There's a particular thrill to walking into a pub theatre during the Camden Fringe, the rare sense you might just stumble into something outstanding — and with ASSisted Seduction, you don't stumble, you are dragged in and taken on a journey that you think about long after the bows.
At the centre of the story are Sandy (Deirdra Morris), a fading ex-Playboy Bunny waitress turned recluse with a terminal diagnosis, and Amber (Alexa Neasham), her broke, erratic and emotionally flailing niece. What begins as a request for financial help spirals quickly into a negotiation of far higher and darker stakes — if Amber helps Sandy die, the inheritance is hers.
Deirdra Morris's Sandy is a masterclass in brittle bravado. Drenched in faded glamour and self-loathing, she delivers razor-edged lines that shift from venomous to vulnerable in seconds. There's a magnificent weariness in her presence. Alexa Neasham's Amber is the perfect counter-balance, fidgety, hungry, layered with awkward self-deprecation and unexpected emotional insight.
Ahsan Kazmi and Naomi Moylan-Torke's writing is tight, laced with cheeky, explosive one-liners. Each line feels like a transaction — one trying to buy love, the other trying to sell survival. What makes ASSisted Seduction so effective is the way the show refuses to let the audience relax. One minute you're laughing, the next you're watching someone question their worth as a human being.
Ninon Jerome's direction is minimal but specific. In a space as intimate as the Hen & Chickens, excess would have dulled the tension. The staging is sparse — a table, two chairs and just enough props — which allows the action to play out without distraction.
This is a two-hander with claws. Funny, unsettling, controversial and not to be missed.
★★★★ | Hen & Chickens Theatre, Camden Fringe
