Review: The Last Days of Liz Truss? (The Other Palace)

Review by Sam Woodward

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Early in The Last Days of Liz Truss?, Liz offers a piece of political advice that feels distinctly theatrical: the key to politics is to “put on a good show” and, above all, to “get noticed”. It lands as a joke, but it quickly becomes the play’s organising principle. Greg Wilkinson’s sharp satire treats politics as performance, inviting us to watch a leader desperately trying to hold the spotlight while the world outside the room has already decided the ending.

Following an earlier run at the White Bear Theatre, The Last Days of Liz Truss? arrives at The Other Palace with a subject most audiences think they already know. Truss’s leadership lasted just forty-nine days, collapsing into market turmoil, relentless headlines, and the kind of instant national folklore usually reserved for satire. The show acknowledges that notoriety without simply replaying it. Instead, it uses the familiar chaos as a starting point, placing us inside the final moments of a leader trying to explain herself, justify her decisions, and stay visible even as the spotlight begins to turn away.

Greg Wilkinson’s script does not treat Truss as a simple character sketch or a greatest hits compilation of gaffes. It has a real sense of plot, building momentum as the walls close in and the outside world becomes impossible to ignore. The writing is sharp about the machinery of power and the seduction of success, allowing Truss to argue for her worldview rather than reducing her to a punchline. That political seriousness is part of the play’s strength. Wilkinson frequently breaks the fourth wall, drawing the audience into Liz’s inner circle as her confidants. The jokes land and the room often erupts with laughter, but they sit within a story that carries real consequences, gradually revealing the ideological convictions that drive the character’s decisions.

Anthony Shrubsall’s direction gives the piece a clear sense of movement, particularly in the shift between the two halves of the play. Early on, we see Liz as the ambitious politician on the rise, eager to be seen and heard, but as the narrative progresses, the tone tightens, and the character settles into the uneasy reality of Prime Ministerial office. The distinction is subtle but effective, reinforced by a change of dress and a growing sense of pressure from the outside world. The staging works cleverly alongside this. Malena Arcucci’s design places Liz between three simple elements: a podium, a desk, and a chair. Each becomes a different mode of the character. At the podium, she is at her most performative, addressing the room with strained confidence. At the desk, she is more personal, trying to rationalise her decisions. In the chair, she finds a rare moment of stillness, a space that feels both like a refuge and the hot seat of accountability.

Emma Wilkinson Wright delivers an outstanding central performance, capturing Truss with remarkable precision. The voice, the careful cadence of the speech, the slightly rigid posture and distinctive walk are all instantly recognisable, yet Wright never pushes the portrayal into caricature. Instead, she approaches the role with a striking seriousness that allows the comedy to emerge naturally from the situation. In the play’s stronger moments, something even more surprising happens. The performance invites flashes of sympathy for a figure many arrived ready to laugh at. Wright reveals the conviction and self-belief behind the character’s decisions, making Liz feel not like a punchline but like a person determined to justify her place in history.

The world around Liz is brought vividly to life through a series of recorded voices, most notably Steve Nallon as Margaret Thatcher, whose unmistakable tones hover over the play like a political ghost. Nallon, well known for his work on Spitting Image, captures Thatcher with impressive accuracy, but the production goes further than a single impersonation. Radio presenters, political figures and media voices weave through the narrative, recreating the relentless broadcast noise that surrounded Truss’s leadership. The effect is both comic and oppressive, reminding us that this story unfolded not in private but under the constant glare of public commentary.

Overall, The Last Days of Liz Truss? proves far more thoughtful than its premise might initially suggest. What begins as a piece of sharp political satire gradually becomes something closer to a character study, exploring the conviction and ambition that sit behind the headlines. At one point, the laughter disappears entirely during Liz’s fierce defence of economic growth, a reminder that beneath the jokes sits a belief system taken very seriously by the person delivering it. If the closing moments lean slightly too obviously into contemporary references, drawing attention to Truss’s current political alliances and media presence, it feels like a minor misstep in an otherwise tightly constructed piece. At its best, the production finds humour and tension in equal measure, anchored by an exceptional central performance that reminds us how thin the line between political theatre and theatre itself can be.

The Last Days of Liz Truss? plays at The Other Palace until 15 March. Tickets from https://theotherpalace.co.uk/the-last-days-of-liz-truss/ 

Photos by Tristram Kenton