Review: Brainsluts (Seven Dials Playhouse)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Trapped in a room for eight hours with nothing to do? Sounds like a standard day at the office. Except this is no ordinary work, and these are no ordinary people. In Brainsluts, five strangers sign up for a clinical trial that promises easy money, mild risk and a whole lot of enforced togetherness. What unfolds is a funny, sharply observed look at modern life, precarious work and the strange ways we bond when there’s nowhere else to go.

With the hospital Wi‑Fi down for maintenance, the group is forced to rely on their own conversational stamina - a fate arguably more harrowing than any side effect. Over five Sundays, secrets slip out, alliances form, and the participants reveal themselves to be so vividly drawn and suitably quirky they feel less like volunteers in a study and more like contestants on a gameshow. Following its sold‑out Fringe run, Dan Bishop’s comedy arrives at Seven Dials Playhouse with a confident swagger and the kind of character‑driven humour that fans of observational comedy will immediately latch onto. Bishop has a clear gift for wordplay and self‑deprecating humour, while also crafting balanced characters who retain a youthful hopefulness even as they face an uncertain future.

The trial participants (or “brainsluts”) waste no time declaring themselves as a gang of lost souls chasing their £2,000 fee. They’re exaggerated but recognisable Gen Z stereotypes: the kind of people you’d absolutely encounter in Bristol city centre on a random Tuesday afternoon. There’s Duggan (Robert Preston), who needs new doorknobs, and an oven for his mum; Mitch (Dan Bishop), the politically fired‑up socialist; Yaz (Bethan Pugh), who has struggled to hold down jobs and slips into the trial through good ol’ nepotism; and Bathsheba (Kathy Maniura), a bead‑threading, ethically moisturised embodiment of wellness culture. 

The study’s coordinator, Dr Eavis, is played with infectious charm by Emmeline Downie, an overcompensating people‑pleaser who seems to self‑medicate through film quotes and puns. She’s delightfully warm, if a bit frazzled, and remarkably adept at injecting energy whenever the pace threatens to flag.

Equally endearing is Preston’s Duggan, who speaks as if he’s moments from a modafinil‑induced panic attack at a press conference. He’s a jumble of quirky phrasing, half‑remembered headlines and eager attempts to join in; all delivered with the clumsy charm of someone who was definitely a late talker. Maniura is sublime as free-spirit Bathsheba, expertly presenting a blissfully airy blend of self‑help, serenity and gentle narcissism. She channels the soft menace of Fleabag’s godmother, pairing whimsical delivery with subtle dominance.

The play’s satire is clear: a comment on the gig economy, the unemployment crisis, and the loneliness that shapes so many twenty‑ and thirty‑something lives. Bishop cleverly captures the duality of the modern “patchwork career”; liberating if you’re an optimist, exploitative if you’re a pessimist, and pure chaos if you’re this particular sample group. Still, there’s a sense that the group is missing a voice from a genuinely different socioeconomic background, someone who participates in medical studies for survival rather than just topping up the float.

A few structural elements also fall short. An emergency red cord introduced early on feels like a setup without a payoff; despite a promising moment of group-wide side‑effects, it never really fulfills its dramatic potential. For a play about the risks of prescription drugs, the danger feels surprisingly low. At around 70 minutes, the script could also benefit from a slight trim, because the bones of a snappy under‑an‑hour piece are definitely there. Yet despite these quibbles, the production maintains a buoyant, engaging energy. Dr Eavis’ monologues at the end of each week are a highlight, and directors Noah Geelan and Seth Jordan ensure the ensemble’s awkward chemistry remains the beating heart of the show.

By the end, the gang return to their regular lives largely unchanged, which feels appropriately honest. Five Sundays aren’t enough to fix the economic system, improve anyone’s employment prospects or solve their existential worries. Bishop’s Brainsluts doesn’t offer a cure, but it certainly delivers a welcome dose of comic clarity.

Brainsluts plays at Seven Dials Playhouse until 13th February. Tickets from https://www.sevendialsplayhouse.co.uk/shows/brainsluts