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Review: 1.17am, or until the words run out (Finborough Theatre)

Review by Ruth Sealey

 

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

 

The smallest of theatres, but a story with a huge heart. 1.17am, or until the words run out invites us into one flat, one bedroom, and two friends trying to navigate tragedy and explore what it truly means to be friends, family, and partners. There is no escape from the emotional rollercoaster that writer Zoe Hunter Gordon has created. We are invited into the most personal of spaces and, in doing so, begin to question how well we really know the people we love most.

 


Following a sell-out preview run at Theatre503, the intimate surroundings of the Finborough Theatre provide the perfect backdrop for this incisive and emotionally intelligent two-hander exploring friendship and grief. Katie and Roni were childhood friends, but secrets have driven a wedge between them. Their unexpected reunion — in the bedroom of Katie’s recently deceased brother — forces both women to confront not only their shared history, but the actions that drove them apart. Surely the truth is better told than kept hidden?

 

Weaving together themes of friendship and loss, the play deftly examines how even the most straightforward relationships can become tangled in misunderstanding and betrayal. As Katie grapples with the unsettling realisation that she may not have truly known her brother, Roni arrives carrying grief of her own. What begins as a chance meeting evolves into a raw and revealing encounter, as the pair question whether their friendship can be rebuilt — and whether forgiveness is ever as simple as it seems.

 


The play opens in a cluttered bedroom, with Katie alone among the remnants of her brother’s life. As she pauses to breathe in the scent of the clothes he has left behind, grief is captured in a small, intimate gesture. The muffled thud of a party seeps through the walls, a reminder that life continues even after loss. What begins as the simple act of packing away belongings slowly becomes something far more profound: an unpacking of memories and regrets.Zoe Hunter Gordon has written something genuinely special, handling grief with sensitivity and insight. The emotion feels raw and truthful, never overstated, and is woven seamlessly into the central relationship. Gradually, the secrets that have quietly come between Katie and Roni are revealed. Hunter Gordon also allows moments of natural humour to surface, offering glimpses of the friendship they once shared and making the fractures between them all the more affecting.

 

The set, designed by Mim Houghton, is impressively detailed without ever feeling cluttered or overdone. Small touches — an empty toilet roll under the bed, a discarded coffee cup — lend the space a lived-in authenticity that immediately draws the audience in. Clothes are scattered across the room, some neatly folded, others tossed aside, hinting at the emotional journey ahead as Katie sorts through her brother’s belongings. Watching her navigate boxes of personal items is sobering — a reminder of the traces we leave behind and how we might be remembered.

 


Director Sarah Stacey makes imaginative use of the space, with movement between areas feeling almost like stepping into a new scene. This is particularly effective in moments of connection between Katie and Roni — whether sitting side by side on the bed or when the bed itself becomes a physical barrier between them. For such a small setting, the staging makes the world of the play feel far larger than its walls. Sarah Spencer’s sound and Catja Hamilton’s lighting work in harmony to place the audience firmly in the room with Katie and Roni. The muffled party noise outside feels entirely believable, ebbing and flowing with subtlety to create moments of quiet tension. The lighting is equally sensitive, shifting gently to reflect the emotional tone of each scene.

 

The true stars of the show are undoubtedly Katie and Roni. Their friendship is complex, and the back-and-forth dialogue between them is delivered with such ease that it feels almost unscripted. Together, they explore what it really means to apologise and whether forgiveness is possible once trust has been broken. The connection between Ashdown and Duffy is evident throughout, both in their dialogue and physicality, as they navigate the delicate balance of friendship, grief, and the struggle to reconnect. Catherine Ashdown gives a stunning performance as Katie, balancing quiet reflection with emotional outbursts to take the audience on a journey through grief and confusion. She captures Katie’s turmoil physically — in her gestures, posture, and movement — reflecting her spiralling emotions as she struggles to make sense of both her brother’s death and Roni’s choices. Katie’s fierce protectiveness of Roni, despite everything, is handled with remarkable nuance, as Ashdown wrestles on stage with anger and love in equal measure.

 


Roni initially appears the less complicated of the two, eager to reconnect while quietly concealing parts of her past. Eileen Duffy captures this complexity beautifully, conveying frustration at Katie’s insistence on reopening old wounds, while revealing her warmth and vulnerability. Her most affecting moments are the quieter ones, when she comforts Katie and, for a fleeting time, the past is set aside as they search for a way forward.

 

This is a beautiful piece of theatre — intimate, thoughtful, and deeply moving. It poses questions that linger long after the curtain falls, acknowledging that there is no single “normal” way to grieve. It makes us wonder how well we truly know the people we love and how our choices will be remembered. 1.17am, or until the words run out invites us into the most personal of conversations and sends us back out into the world reflecting on our own relationships.

 

1.17am, or until words run out plays at Finborough Theatre until March 7th

 

 

Photos by Giulia Ferrando

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