Things to do in London this week

Rising star Jordan Fein’s sumptuous revival of Stephen Sondheim’s Into the Woods is the first actual proper major Sondheim revival to be staged in this country since the great man’s passing. It’s a clever send up of fairytales that pushes familiar stories into absurd, existential, eventually very moving territory, but it’s also a fiddly musical with a lot of moving parts. You need to get it right, and Fein smashes it, largely thanks to exceptional casting. The whole thing looks astonishing: Tom Scutt’s astonishingly lush, vivid woods are glistening, eerie and primal. The costumes are similarly ravishing. It’s just great, really, a sublime production of a sublime musical with a sublime cast.

Can you get any more Christmassy than wandering around the home of the man who wrote ‘A Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve – the very night when all the ghostly shit went down in the story? We don’t think so. See the museum’s original Victorian furniture and fittings kitted out festive greenery and tour the house as carols play in the background. You’ll also get a free mince pie and mulled wine, get to watch ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’, arguably the all-time greatest adaption of the classic. 

American cinema’s fake-it-til-you-make-it brigade – Catch Me If You Can’s Frank Abagnale Jr, Moses Pray in Paper Moon, Rizzo in Midnight Cowboy, Uncut Gems’ Howard Ratner, Barry Lyndon and all those other hustling antiheroes – has a dazzling new addition. But, with his skittish chutzpah and pathological lack of self-doubt, Timothée Chalamet’s ever-calculating ping pong player Marty Mauser has something most of those others lack: real talent to back up the front. In Josh Safdie’s sports movie-cum-crime caper, Marty is a gifted but impoverished ping-pong player who’s only an inch or two from conquering all. By the terms of his own cutthroat world, he’s a loser who lives within touching distance of glory. One more push could make all the difference. Or get him killed. This is a stunning achievement, a breathless yet precisely controlled joyride full of vivid characters, hairpin turns and did-that-just-happen moments. 

In cinemas December 26 

One of London’s quirkiest Christmas traditions as well as being one of the oldest, the Peter Pan Cup has been contested on Christmas mornings since 1864. Strictly a spectator event – unless you happen to be a regular, not to mention hardy, member of the Serpentine Swimming Club – the name of the 100-yard swimming race in Hyde Park’s lido derives from the 1904 edition, when author and playwright Sir James Barrie presented the trophy to the winner. The race commences at 9am so head down to watch the brave folk go for it before you start opening your presents.

The much-feted Sam Grabiner’s second play – following last year’s Olivier-winning Boys on the Verge of Tears – is a dark, dark comedy about a jaw-droppingly dysfunctional British Jewish family. It is an anarchic meditation on the British Jewish psyche, that is really very fearless about ‘going there’ with certain political issues. It is about the British tradition of having a massive ding dong on Christmas Day. And it’s a comedy about living in London. Clearly it is likely to speak to a British Jewish audience most directly. But its depiction of a Christmas Day lunch spinning horribly out of control is – with intentional irony – a universally British concept. 

There are few things that we’d willingly brave the chill for during winter in London. But ice skating is one of them. Ice rinks decked out towering Christmas trees and twinkly fairy lights fill London’s squares and courtyards, hosting everything from DJ takeovers and kids’ skating lessons to date nights and family outings over the festive period. Pretty soon you’ll get to pretend you’re in a festive London rom-com, as you romantically glide (or awkwardly stumble) with your loved ones under the backdrop of landmarks like Somerset House, Battersea Power Station and Hampton Court Palace. 

For the last three years Hampstead Theatre has been staging lesser-revived Tom Stoppards over Christmas, and for Stoppard fans it’s been fun to see them come to life. But Indian Ink is a deep cut. A vehicle for his former partner Felicity Kendal, Stoppard wrote it first as a radio drama and then expanded and enriched it into this version, which premiered in 1995. Here is Felicity Kendal returning to Indian Ink so many years later, but playing the elderly Mrs Swan rather than the young Flora Crewe. And in a play about looking back, and the lives of artists, and making sense of past romances, she watches Ashbourne Serkis bring alive the lines written for her by her old lover just weeks after his death. That in itself is very moving, even if the play remains one for the Stoppard pilgrims.

Clocking in at three hours and 17 sometimes spectacular, occasionally stultifying minutes, Avatar: Fire and Airy reaquaints us with human-turned-Na’vi Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and his blue clanspeople as they tackle new-yet-entirely-similar threats. A sense of familiarity kicks in from the opening 3D shots of a guilt-ridden Lo’ak (Britain Dalton) soaring through the floating Hallelujah Mountains on a banshee. The death of his brother Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) in Avatar: The Way of Water will send him off on his own redemption arc. 

Unless you’re fluent in turn-of-the-twentieth-century Hiberno-English, John Millington Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World requires proper, eyes-wide-open concentration. And even more so in this NT revival, in which director Caitríona McLaughlin celebrates the lyrical language of the play in all its glory. At its best, hers is a production that rewards attentiveness, weaving in beautiful, affecting images of County Mayo folklore alongside some standout acting performances. 
Most of the audience will likely have bagged tickets to see the outstanding Nicola Coughlan, and they will not be disappointed. The Bridgerton megastar looks right at home as the feisty barmaid Pegeen, while Lorcan Cranitch, as Pegeen’s alcohol-fuelled father, gives a convincing, powerhouse interpretation. 

Martino’s has seemingly opened by stealth. One day it was just there, looking like it’d been around for decades, complete with a glamorous, older Sloane Square crowd that seemed to have been propping up the bar since 1978. It’s the latest from Martin Kuczmarski, the man behind The Dover, and is a little less New York and a little more Milan, with a simple pasta and meatballs menu, and all-day dining and a majestic oval bar in the middle of the beautiful room for martini meetings. A dreamy decontamination chamber, this pearlescent womb smells like a Diptyque factory, and is adorned with fresh flowers and humming with charming staff who look up your handwritten booking in a massive leather-bound book. Staff wear white jackets and black bowties and glide across the parquet floor like Fred Astaire mid-foxtrot. Nothing on the Martino’s menu is overly outre – this isn’t a place for flashy food – but that only makes the space shine brighter.

No matter how Scrooge-like you are, you can’t deny that London looks pretty magical once the Christmas lights have been turned on and tinsel-covered trees greet you at every turn. Luckily, the city is never in short supply of festive light displays, whether you’re looking for something classic – like Regent Street’s trumpet-playing angels, or a themed display, like those found on Carnaby Street. Each string beams bright enough to warm the coldest of hearts quicker than you can say ‘Bah, humbug’. Here are the best London illuminations to check out to get you in the Christmas spirit this year.

Oh yes it is! London panto season is back for 2025, and here’s Time Out’s complete rundown of every major pantomime in the city. For some Londoners the only time of year they'll visit a theatre, panto season is a bizarre, joyful, quintessentially British time to come together and watch some light-hearted spoof fairytales that revolve around men dressing up as women and/or farm animals. London is a city that takes pantomime seriously, and even if the idea of seasonal frivolity fills you with dread, there’s a panto out there for you.

If lounging around on Christmas Day and stuffing your face with treats sounds like something that gets in the way of your running streak rather than a dream way to spend a day, the Christmas Day Cracker Run is for you. Head to the outskirts of the city to a course by the Thames where you’ll be able to run for up to seven – yes, seven – hours. The minimum distance you have to complete to take part is 5km, but you can do as much beyond that as you like – up to a 50km ‘ultramarathon’. If you complete one lap (7km), you’ll get to take home a shiny medal and a goody bag full of yummy snacks. 

The groanworthy title sets the tone for this fun re-telling of Dracula via close harmony singing and a stream of winkingly awful puns. Co-writers Dan Patterson (Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Mock the Week) and Jez Bond, also directing, feed an irreverent combination of Bram Stoker’s novel and Francis Ford Coppola’s 1992 film version through a Mel Brooks musical mangle. This production may be gothic in origin but is panto in spirit. The actors are perfectly attuned to the show’s loudly enjoyable silliness while bringing powerhouse musical theatre chops to the singing.

The Hackney panto’s USP is Clive Rowe: less a dame than a roiling force of nature, post-pandemic, he has not only starred in every panto at the Empire but directed them too, in what has increasingly felt like a one-man (in a frock) show. But, Rowe is such a panto purist that he refuses to perform in productions of Cinderella, reasoning that there is no dame role in it. So this year, he’s directing only. This show’s heart lies with its villains: Alexandra Waite-Roberts as Oblivia, Cinderella’s cacklingly evil stepmother, who in this version, offed her stepdaughter’s dad years previously and barely makes any effort to conceal the fact. It’s a very classy, very family-friendly panto. 

There are few activites in London quite as festive as carol singing inside Sir Christopher Wren’s architectural masterpiece, St Paul’s Cathedral. The legendary London landmark hosts a huge number of Christmas services each year, with three to choose from on Christmas Day itself. Night owls can see in the big day at Midnight Eucharist, which starts at 11.30pm on Christmas Eve and finishes at 1am. Or if you’re safely tucked up in bed waiting for Santa’s arrival at that time, head to the Christmas Day Choral Eucharist at 11am, or the Festal Evensong at 3pm. The Christmas Day services are all free and unticketed, but guaranteed to be hugely popular, so get be sure to get down early and be prepared to queue. You can find full information here.

Notting Hill Carnival’s famous Channel One soundsystem is here to blast you out of your Boxing Day stupor. Once again, it’ll be taking over the Village Underground with its reggae roots beats from award-winning Mikey Dread, Jah T and Ras Kayleb. Expect uplifting steppas, conscious reggae, exclusive dubplates and feel-good vibes. 

At first sight, Candice Lin’s g/hosti, a new commission from the Whitechapel Gallery, evokes a childlike playfulness. At its centre is a maze of cardboard panels which are painted with animals like dogs, cats, and mice, cavorting in a mythical forest. Its simplistic style and bright, warm colours feel akin to the sort of whimsical mural you might find painted on the wall of a primary school. The more you weave through the circular labyrinth, however, the more you realise you’re immersed in something altogether more sinister and political than first meets the eye. g/hosti is a show that could be misconceived if you do not linger long enough to absorb its hidden details. The more it unfolds, the more it unsettles and makes you think.