Review: Uprooted (New Diorama Theatre)

Review by Harry Bower

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

When Ephemeral Ensemble’s REWIND hit the stage last year, it didn’t so much tell a story as summon a reckoning, and I was completely blown away. Their latest production, Uprooted, now playing at the New Diorama, is equally furious, even more ambitious, and at times breathtakingly beautiful. It’s also, occasionally, a little too much. But if the ensemble’s signature blend of physical theatre, political urgency, and spiritual depth is your thing - and you better believe it is mine - then this is an hour of theatre you won’t forget in a hurry.

Set in a lush, pre-colonial Latin America, amongst the mango trees, the piece begins with unbridled joy. Two girls are playing in the river, and the community is at peace. But it doesn’t last. Chainsaws roar, land is seized, and the story spirals into a hellish kaleidoscope of destruction, displacement, and capitalist greed. Using the journey of two women in a single family to frame the wider narrative, the piece unpacks ecological collapse, colonial violence, protest, and the dismemberment of cultural identity with a ferocity that never lets up. It doesn’t so much escalate as detonate. 

This is not subtle storytelling. And to be fair, subtlety is hardly the point. There’s a punk urgency to Uprooted that tears down the fourth wall within seconds. Literally, as audience members are asked to welcome those seated next to them - and it never lets you get too comfortable. The production blends dance, mime, physical comedy, protest, and moments of ritual in a whirlwind that’s equal parts catharsis and critique. And while not every choice lands (more on that later) the ones that do are unforgettable. A sequence involving shadow play, the mesmerising use of rippling fabric, the displacement of a dying generational home through a fog of war, and the metaphorical “rape of mother nature” are all breathtaking in both execution and implication.

  The cast (Alex Paton, Eyglo Belafonte, Josephine Tremelling, Louise Wilcox, and Vanessa Guevara Flores) function as a true ensemble in the richest sense of the word. This is physical storytelling dialled to eleven: writhing bodies twist into nature, weapons, structures, victims, and perpetrators. Every prop and every set piece becomes an extension of their rage or grief. No moment is wasted, and while the performances are anything but restrained, they are always emotionally coherent. Their urgency feels earned, rooted in lived reality. Perhaps unsurprising when you learn that this is a company who spent time this year working with communities affected by the themes on stage in Latin America this year.

Tremelling’s lighting design is, quite simply, stunning. It transforms the New Diorama’s black box, guiding us through time and trauma with precision and restraint. This is some of the most atmospheric and emotive lighting design I have ever seen in the space. Pools of light isolate characters for moments of devastating intimacy; harsh whites and eerie colours flood the stage to underline conflict and collapse. The beauty here is in the discipline. Tremelling never let’s it get flashy or gaud, but always lands the most effective and appropriate tone through light. The lighting does what the best design should do: it focuses you, frames the story, and deepens the meaning. 

Musician and composer Alex Paton creates a soundscape that is at once haunting and propulsive. His live performance is undeniably captivating, perhaps too much so! Positioned visibly above the action, his intensity sometimes distracts from the scenes below, particularly during high-stakes emotional beats. The music itself is powerfully atmospheric, amplifying the show’s tension and drive in all the right places. When used sparingly, it soars.

Uprooted is not without its flaws. Some of the more experimental sequences miss the mark entirely - a surreal moment involving an inflatable cow drew awkward chuckles from the audience, as did a handful of symbolic gestures which land on uneven ground and fly against the context of the rest of the piece, which is such an incisive political and social commentary. The show’s strength is in its fury and sincerity; when it tries to be playful or ironic, the tonal shift doesn’t always sit comfortably. With so many themes vying for attention; colonialism, environmentalism, gendered violence, grief, resistance; the emotional arcs of some characters feel underdeveloped. Though the piece necessarily lurches from one trauma to the next the hour doesn’t feel as tight as it could, and in some places feels rushed.

However. Uprooted doesn’t want to be a perfect play. It wants to be a scream. A warning. A ritual. A space for discomfort. And on that front, it absolutely succeeds. Even its imperfections are, in some ways, part of the point - a jagged, unfiltered howl against systems of harm that are still very much alive and kicking. That the show manages to remain entertaining amidst all this is a credit to the ensemble’s energy and commitment. You leave not exhausted, but energised.

The New Diorama deserves credit for platforming this kind of work. It is experimental, intersectional, deeply political, and rooted in real-world experience. Uprooted is not easy theatre, nor is it always polished. But it is vital, heartfelt, and searingly alive. Go with an open mind and a willingness to sit with discomfort. You may not love every choice it makes, but you’ll feel every single one of them deeply. And in a world that needs more feeling, and is more unjust than ever before, that alone makes it worth your time.

Uprooted plays at The New Diorama Theatre until Saturday 25 October 2025. For more information visit: https://newdiorama.com/whats-on/uprooted 

Photos by Alex Brenner