Review: TWO (Park Theatre)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

In many ways, pubs are homes for lost souls; places to linger, to listen, to be seen. In Jim Cartwright’s TWO, a watering hole becomes a meeting point for the lonely, the loud, the loved-up and the lovelorn, all spinning through a single, eventful night. Now playing at Park Theatre following a sold-out run at Greenwich, Cartwright’s iconic love letter to pub culture remains a punch of a play bristling with humanity.

Behind the bar stand the Landlord and Landlady, played by Peter Caulfield and Kellie Shirley, who between them portray fourteen characters spanning ages five to ninety. Regulars come and go in a dizzying merry-go-round: lonesome elderly widowers, slurring stag dos, couples bickering and doting in equal measure. Costumes fly, accents shift, and pints are endlessly pulled through it all.

Cartwright’s writing does much of the heavy lifting. His language spits and swills, thick with colloquial rhythm and brutal poetry, offering performers more than enough to sink their teeth into. Each “Ow”, “Arr” and “Ohh” carries the weight of a monologue, grounding even the most heightened caricatures in something achingly real. Despite the suggested ‘immersive’ setting, it’s predominantly an observational piece, a window into the not-so-regular lives of the regulars. It’s a play so strong on the page that it takes something special to lift it beyond its sturdy foundations, and this production largely rises to the challenge.

The intimate Park90 space is transformed into a fully functioning pub, complete with hideous geometric rugs, mismatched wooden chairs and a bar that soon becomes littered with half-drunk glasses. A particularly nice touch allows audience members to purchase drinks tokens before the show and redeem them inside the fictional “Clock & Compass”. Within minutes, the space feels lived-in and warmly chaotic. If you can, it’s worth arriving early to grab one of the on-stage pub seats to really get in on the action.

Performance-wise, Shirley and Caulfield are a tremendous pairing. Both navigate Cartwright’s slice-of-life vignettes with impressive dexterity, shifting physicality and vocal detail in the blink of an eye. Shirley is gloriously unrestrained as the Other Woman, cigarette dangling from her lips, staggering across the stage with her heels and dignity slipping away behind her. She’s equally commanding in quieter moments, whether croaking out cheeky chuckles as the Old Woman or shrinking inward as Lesley, a young woman trapped in a relationship with a verbally abusive boyfriend.

For Caulfield, it’s the Old Man who really sticks the landing. A widower coming to the pub simply to feel the presence of his deceased wife, his gentle, unhurried monologue is handled with tenderness and restraint. He enters with a cane, steadies himself at the bar, and savours his half-pint as though it’s all he has left. Amid grief and loneliness, the pub becomes a refuge. Elsewhere, Caulfield clearly revels in the lighter moments, particularly as Fred, trading affectionate insults with his partner in exchanges that sound cruel but are rooted in deep, unmistakable love and familiarity.

Set and costume designer Jana Lakatos keeps things deliberately grounded. Ashtrays dot the tables, a tab tally on a chalk board lets us know of any frequent flyers, and the spirit optics are suitably full. Little effort has been made to modernise the text beyond relocating the setting from Lancashire to London, in this pub where two whiskeys still cost £2.05. The result feels like a time capsule, reverential to Cartwright’s original vision, but occasionally at odds with its new geography.

What emerges is a production rich in nostalgia. TWO might once have felt like spending an evening at the pub; now, it feels closer to being on the set of The Queen Vic. As pub culture continues to slip through our fingers - and family‑run venues become increasingly rare in the capital - the Northern working‑class resonance of the piece feels slightly diluted in its London setting. A jumble of accents creates a space that exists outside of any clear time or place, and while the poster’s imagery hints at deeper political strain, director James Haddrell chooses to focus instead on bringing these characters fully to life rather than digging deeper into broader cultural commentary.

Still, that focus is not without its rewards. TWO is perfect for people-watching enthusiasts, a reminder that behind every old boy in the corner or intoxicated woman causing a scene lies a story and a past. In an age of screens and bluetooth-connected isolation, the simple act of listening to a room feels radical. Cartwright’s play gently nudges us to look up, tune in, and perhaps offer a smile across the bar. This revival of TWO may not recontextualise Cartwright’s classic, but it honours it with affection and skill, raising a glass to a culture built on conversation, community and connection, while it still can.

TWO plays at the Park Theatre until April 25^th. For tickets and information please visit https://parktheatre.co.uk/events/two/

Photos by Ross Kernahan