Review: Period Parrrty (Soho Theatre)

Review by Isabel Benson

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Premiering at Soho Theatre in collaboration with Kali Theatre, Gayathiri Kamalakanthan’s new play Period Parrrty pushes literary limits in a production bursting with humour, pathos, and cutting sarcasm. Kamalakanthan laces the performance with sweet and tender moments, heightened by some expressive and beautifully natural performances, making for a real must-see production.

The story follows 15-year-old Krish, who identifies as non-binary and is faced with a hurdle when their mother Brintha insists on throwing them a period party to commemorate Krish’s turn into ‘womanhood’. Naturally, they are reluctant to conform to what this party is celebrating, as they feel that it is an unfair representation of Krish’s gender identity. Therefore, Krish and best friend Brenevee discuss ways they can make this party as ‘de-gendered’ as possible, without dishonouring the Tamil cultural traditions which are so vital to Brintha.

It’s a bold and compelling narrative choice to open with a scene led by the ultimate emblem of femininity - the tampon. From the outset, we’re thrown into the central tension that threads through the entire piece: what society expects of Krish as a ‘woman’, and how those very expectations become the source of their confinement. The tampon, both a necessity and a symbol of restriction, perfectly encapsulates this paradox - an object that represents womanhood while simultaneously embodying its repression. After this scene, the bathroom seamlessly transforms into Krish’s bedroom as the fourth wall is broken and we’re invited into the introductions of best friends Krish and Brenavee. I want to congratulate director Gitika Buttoo for navigating this change with taste. The shift feels straight out of a coming-of-age sitcom - effortless, funny, and full of heart. Katie Scott’s set design pulls this off spectacularly; the smooth transition from bathroom to bedroom not only captures the fluidity of youth but also cleverly marks the shift in narrative voice.

We come to know these characters most intimately through the way they orbit each other. Krish’s warm honesty shines in their friendship with Brenavee, and is complicated in what originates as a deeply fraught connection with Brintha. From the outset, the tension between Krish and Brintha is quietly uncomfortable: she fusses over outfits, jewellery, and makeup, forcing femininity onto her child like an inherited ritual. Yet, you never resent her - Brintha is simply doing what she knows, shaped by the same Tamil traditions that were once, and are still, expected of her.

This conflict finds its most haunting expression at the period party itself, when Brintha gently places a white veil over Krish’s head. The moment is breathtakingly symbolic. The veil, so evocative of a wedding, embodies everything Krish fears: being trapped in a false womanhood, suffocated by expectation. The ensuing panic attack fuses emotional turmoil with physical claustrophobia, a visceral portrayal of how deeply that fear sits within her body. Throughout the play, Elizabeth Green does well to show Krish’s physical discomfort in their own skin, as she is always touching their body in discomfort and scratching their arms. These subtle details contribute to Green’s brilliantly natural performance.

Kamalakanthan introduces moments of quiet rebellion, genuine coming-of-age acts from Krish that feels both terrifying and liberating. What follows is unexpectedly tender: mother and child reconcile in a rare exchange of vulnerability. “I talk, now you talk,” Brintha says, opening a door that had long been closed. Tears follow, and Krish, now willingly, oils their mother’s hair, a gesture steeped in care, trust, and belonging. It’s a beautiful symbol of healing, showing how Krish’s queerness can coexist with her Tamil identity.

At the heart of the story lies the tender, quietly powerful relationship between Krish and Brenavee. Brenavee is clearly Krish’s anchor and solace person. Her buying Krish a binder before the party speaks volumes about her loyalty and understanding. Their chemistry feels effortlessly natural, their friendship pulsing with a sweetness that grounds the whole production. That being said, Virmani delivers her line, “I like boys - and you!” with such sincerity and charm that it’s impossible not to melt; it’s a moment of pure, heart-swelling joy. Additionally, the silent character Jay is a neat way of showing how queer culture can ally with Tamil culture, not just be separate from it. By introducing Krish to some of the Tamil gods, Krish finds comfort in the fact that they all look ‘gay’! Thus, Jay is an emblem for the coalition of both Krish’s worlds, as we can see the possibility of coexistence.

Special credit must go to Eve Oakley, whose costume supervision captures the vibrancy and authenticity of Tamil culture with striking detail. Every sari, accessory, and fabric choice feels lovingly considered and true to the story’s roots. Meanwhile, Niroshini Thambar’s sound design and original music infuse the production with energy, creating a joyful, immersive soundscape that feels both contemporary and deeply connected to heritage. Together, these elements elevate the show’s emotional rhythm, balancing moments of laughter, heartbreak, and celebration. Every member of this creative team has poured heart and soul into the production, a piece brimming with colour and care. A huge congratulations to all involved for crafting such a moving, refreshingly original work that lingers long after the final note, Period Parrrty is an evening you won’t forget!

Period Parrrty plays at Soho Theatre until November 22nd

For tickets and information visit https://sohotheatre.com/events/period-parrrty/

Photos by Ikin Yum