[title]
★★★
‘Can Rebecca Lucy Taylor act?’ is I guess the big question here.
Well, I don’t think there’s any evidence from the pop star’s straight-up play debut (she previously co-starred in Cabaret) that the artist also known as Self Esteem is a hugely versatile character actor.
But: the answer is ‘yes’. The theatrical, theatre-literate singer potently channels what feels like a lot of personal stuff into the role of Maggie Frisby – a minor rock singer, angry, amused and very drunk as her band disintegrates at a 1969 Oxford student ball.
And I think if you’re a proper hardcore Self Esteem fan you’ll probably see David Hare’s 1975 play Teeth ’n’ Smiles as a means to an end, a vehicle to fire Taylor up as she pours her heart and soul and cynicism at the music industry into the role of Maggie, combusting spectacularly – and at one point, almost literally – at the tail-end of the ’60s.
The trouble is the play has not aged brilliantly, a fact that, to his credit, Hare has acknowledged in the past (though he’s been supportive of this revival).
He was right! Teeth ‘n’ Smiles was inspired by Hare’s observations of a washed up Manfred Mann at the playwright’s own university ball. Which is interesting. But in 2026 it’s astonishing how unclear it is what point Hare is really trying to make.
I think it’s a passage of time thing. In 1975, this slightly absurdist drama about an addled rock band limping on through a catastrophic final show was in and of itself powerful commentary on the end of a ‘60s dream that not everyone had yet given up on.
In 2026, though, we’re post punk, post post-punk, post Spinal Tap, post-grunge… a lot has happened. There is talk of how Teeth ’n’ Smiles was a sort of harbinger of punk, but so much time has passed that since it debuted John Lydon not only torched the British establishment with far more force than Hare ever manages here but reinvented himself as a mildly problematic butter salesman in the decades since.
It’s a forceful, impassioned performance.
Although you can feel Taylor’s engagement, Hare’s words feel glaringly lacking in serious engagement with a half-century of musical, cultural and feminist discourse. Daniel Raggett’s gently absurdist, lightly Beckettian production eschews fussy period details and indeed Chloe Lamford’s set is effectively styled like a gig. But it feels like it has more in common with John Osborne’s cracked vaudeville The Entertainer than with the rock business. Indeed, the clutch of songs here – written by Nick and Tony Bicat, and tweaked by Taylor – feel more music hall than punk. They’re pretty good mind, especially ‘Don't Let the Bastards Come Near You’ and ‘Last Orders’.
A dissatisfaction with England runs through its bones, but it’s tame compared to what the Sex Pistols would articulate a year later. And while Maggie’s magnificent, raging boozing and eventually almost willing martyr status certainly has a feminist angle to it, it’s not one the writing leans heavily into.
And so in this odd, broken play you have Taylor, incandescent as the flamboyant, addled, but strangely clearsighted Maggie. Okay, I could be imposing stuff on her performance because I’m familiar with her work and persona and well-articulated frustrations with the contemporary music industry. But my sense is that Taylor is less concerned with the death of the ’60s dream and British establishment of 50 years ago, and more with using Maggie as a lightning rod to channel her own frustrations with an industry Hare doesn't directly address.
It’s a forceful, impassioned performance. But it’s also quite jarring. The various other characters – from cynical but sensitive songwriter Arthur (Michael Fox) to heroin casualty bassist Peyote (Jojo Macari) to scheming manager Saraffian (Phil Daniels) – feel like they’re recognisably of the ’60s. Taylor feels like… Self Esteem. Her performance. But also physically: her towering stature and the fact she’s obviously a little older than Maggie means she hardly blends into the role – she is the role.
Maybe there’s a world in which a really bold, really aggressive update to Teeth ‘N’ Smiles dragged it comprehensively into the twenty-first century, but it’s understandable that Hare didn’t want to attempt such a task. And so you’re left with Rebecca Lucy Taylor pouring her heart into the semi-broken body of a play that would never get commissioned today. Self Esteem fans wanting to see their icon give a big Self Esteem-ish performance will not be disappointed. But as a complete production, it just doesn’t work, and was probably never going to work.
Duke of York’s Theatre, until Jun 6. Buy tickets here.
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