Review: Tender (Bush Theatre)

Review by Phil Meikle

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A queer, meet-cute, love-story thriller. It’s quite the elevator pitch, right? Now that writer Eleanor Tindall has your attention, she doesn’t intend to lose it as she continues the Bush Theatre’s long-held tradition of exploring provocative new writing. Though unlike so many other queer romances, this isn’t merely an exploration of hidden love. This is also a twisting, genre-jumping exploration of queer female independence, body horror, and the awkwardness of first romantic encounters. The question is, with so many genres and sensitive subjects to juggle, could Tender prove too tough to pull off?

Originally staged in the Bush Theatre’s intimate Studio space in 2024, Tender returns to the Bush, this time stretching its pulsating narrative into the venue’s larger main house, the Holloway Theatre. This production reunites the principal creative team of writer Eleanor Tindall and director Emily Aboud, alongside Nadi Kemp-Sayfi, who returns to portray Ivy and who is now joined by Francesca Amewudah-Rivers as Ash. Amewudah-Rivers also voices the two unseen male characters.

When you enter the Bush Theatre for Tender, leave behind all your preconceptions of what shape a queer love story usually takes. The opening piece of dialogue from Ivy, staring at her blood-stained hands, immediately sets the darker tone of this play: “I’m sixteen and I’ve decided to cut parts of myself out and hide them in the walls of my bedroom.” This unsettling image is directly manifested through the irregularly pulsating back wall of the set, adorned with knowingly hideous yellow flowery wallpaper. It is this pulsing movement that distracts Ash’s attention when we first meet her viewing a new flat in London. Meanwhile Ivy repeatedly washes her hands in a small tank of water at the centre of the stage, the swirling red mist serving as a constant reminder of the darker themes that both overhang and underpin the drama.

Our two protagonists share the stage throughout as they take turns sharing insights into their lives directly with the audience, delivering them in both humorous and sinister monologues. Ivy has a boyfriend and a flat of her own but is clearly yearning for something more. She is uncomfortable in her own body, twitching and uneasy. Meanwhile Ash is newly single and outwardly confident, but mysterious phone calls and persistent deliveries of flowers suggest that her past is not ready to let go of her. At this point, I should warn you that, between the lighter moments of humorous romantic encounters, the play also deals with several sensitive subjects, including self-harm, references to suicide, and stalking, to name but a few. To avoid spoilers here, it would instead be advisable to check the website beforehand if you require forewarning of potential triggers. Be assured, however, that all these subjects are handled with great care and sensitivity by all concerned.

Tindall’s writing masterfully pivots between comedy and horror in quick succession. She uses a series of meet-cute moments to spark a romantic entanglement between Ivy and Ash. It is a testament to the relatability of both the writing and performances that I can’t remember the last time I felt an audience warm so quickly to, and actively root for, a burgeoning romance. The goodwill towards these characters was palpable in the room. Tindall captures the flirty, awkward first interactions we can all relate to, aided by snappy, naturalistic dialogue that bounces between Ivy and Ash like a tennis rally, occasionally overlapping. Big laughs are earned from observations about overpriced coffee shops and London commutes. Tindall reserves the monologues for longer, more intimate insights into our characters, delivering raw, poetic dialogue that covers a wide range of sensitive topics without ever feeling preachy.

Emily Aboud perfectly ensures both actresses are given equal moments of insight as they confide in the captive audience their inner demons, without the other ever feeling sidelined for any great length of time. The subtle lighting design by David Doyle respectfully pulls focus to each performer in turn. When the two characters meet, it is almost like a dance (appropriate enough as it is outside a nightclub), as they move around each other, unable to take their eyes off one another for more than a second. I want to particularly applaud the choice to observe the pair without any heard dialogue as they flirt over glasses of wine on their first date. This simple but moving scene is beautifully poignant. Furthermore, the addition of intimacy director Tommy Ross-Williams and the associate intimacy director proves inspired, making the lovemaking scenes delicate, sensitive and, once again, like a beautifully choreographed dance.

Nadi Kemp-Sayfi reprises her role as Ivy and delivers a terrific performance. You can really feel how much affection she has for a character she has so fully fleshed out. Her previous experience with the Royal Shakespeare Company shines through, as her facial expressions and subtle movements constantly tell a story in a piece where physicality is clearly a prominent artistic choice. She instils Ivy with an endearing and wholly believable nervousness that makes the clash of her secret identity and unhappy home life even more harrowing. She manages to convey both laugh-out-loud physical fumbles as well as whole-body spasm-like shakes that periodically take her over. These moments are further intensified by the pulsating wall and Ellie Isherwood’s dominating sound design, which rumbles throughout the audience and creates incredibly powerful moments.

Francesca Amewudah-Rivers gives a confident and assured performance as Ash, which is made even more effective when she allows us to see her character at her most vulnerable, particularly during scenes in which she is harassed by her ex-boyfriend in one of the play’s most sinister subplots. Amewudah-Rivers possesses such a natural and commanding stage presence that it is easy to see why she has attracted so much critical admiration already in her career. She also takes on the challenge of voicing the two male characters, always turning her body to the side or back of the stage to ensure that the focus remains firmly on the central female leads.

If I have one minor quibble, it is with the one large piece of stage furniture, doubling as both couch and bed. I found its design oddly distracting because I couldn’t work out what its pink-red, flesh-like form was meant to represent. At various points it looked like a pair of lungs cut open, the valves of a heart, or perhaps something more overtly sexual. But this choice pales in comparison with the nods to cannibalism, which in a play already packed with a lot of difficult subject matter seemed somewhat out of place and never quite earned their inclusion.

Across all creative aspects, Tender deftly manages to balance endearing comedy with complicated and dark themes without either feeling out of place. This is a queer love story that takes the framework of young romance and the hope that new starts offer and thrusts them up against multiple dark themes in a mature, scary and thought-provoking thriller that reminds us that tenderness lies at its heart.

Tender plays at the Bush Theatre until 1^st August. Tickets from https://www.bushtheatre.co.uk/event/tender-2026/ 

Photos by Harry Elletson