Private View ★★

Jess Edwards debuts at the Soho Theatre with her first solo play, Private View. Annie Kershaw directs, and it’s about two women who meet by chance at a private viewing in a London gallery. They fall in and out of love, walking in circles around their feelings. The unnamed characters couldn’t be more different at first. Patricia Allison (Sex Education) plays a 23-year-old PhD quantum physics student, while Stefanie Martini (The Gold) plays a 39-year-old photographer and ex-alcoholic. They begin a surface-level, bantering romance, where commitment ultimately comes with a cost, but it’s left unclear where their relationship ends. Due to a running time of 75 minutes and a complex couple to explore, the context behind this duo’s infatuation is crucial for the play to resonate. Private View definitely intends to ring true to sapphic audiences.

There are some appealing individual elements to Private View, Josh Anio Grigg’s sound design being one. His electronic soundtrack is quintessentially queer, and his incorporation of sound effects is clever and aids the comedy that starts off the performance. When they break into Allison’s research lab, Grigg’s electric hums buzz through the space; Catja Hamilton’s lighting design makes for a superb sci-fi feel. A couple of times, the audience is plunged into a total blackout and only able to hear the voices of Allison and Martini, which is quite intriguing at first. It feels slightly lifeless at times, though, as it’s an obvious voiceover and it does seem to drag, but Hamilton interrupts with flashes of light and abstract silhouettes that make for a more lively experience. This should happen more!

Also, Annie Kershaw’s blocking is symbolic – the clearest communication of Private View’s themes of control. Ingrid MacKinnon’s intimacy and movement coordination are thought-provoking too. Martini embraces Allison so frequently it becomes a form of manipulation. Under this direction, physical touch represents the cruellest and kindest parts of both characters. But the most exciting parts of Private View are glimmers of witty, self-aware comedy. At the start, the couple are in their honeymoon phase, and they have chemistry in their banter. Edwards knows how to write the jokes, and her knowledge of sapphic stereotypes is clearly not lacking. That these women, having met a handful of times yet sharing their deepest traumas, is a funny idea, hilariously delivered by Allison and Martini. In Private View, the laughter shared between the couple in the first half brings these inflated characters down to Earth. If only they could keep that energy throughout…

The thing about writing a script about falling in (and out of) love is that it must feel authentic. It’s a universal, relatable experience. So when tackling such a concept that’s been done to death in theatre, it’s important to delve into dramatic context to ensure relatability and individuality within the characters. Yes, queer women stereotypically move quickly in relationships, which Private View makes total reference to, but the telling of this story just misses the mark on authenticity.

Unfortunately, when the couple begins their bickering and it comes to consistent tension, Edwards’ writing is chewy and laborious, getting lost in its own message. In order for the power dynamics and toxicity in this relationship to feel true, the audience must feel compassion for at least one character. It’s clear that Edwards is writing about the messiness of fast-paced queer dating, but it could do with a bit of cleaning up. The crucial individuality of each character is rarely expressed, only found in pockets of pretentious monologues about physics, art and relationships – rather than in their conversations with each other. This makes their infatuation seem unbelievable. How on Earth do you sympathise with a character whose defining traits are rambling about physics and being too quick to anger? Or an ex-alcoholic cheater with jealousy problems, who’s happy to date somebody 18 years younger? With more time taken to explore their backgrounds, perhaps this dynamic really would have worked.

In 2025, a time where society seems to regress in many ways, it is disappointing to watch another story about a lesbian relationship that turns toxic and abusive. This formula has been documented countless times, and it takes real depth to make this important now. When the most truthful aspects of their characters are explored during BDSM scenes, made clunky and almost comedic due to MacKinnon and Kershaw’s direction, it reduces the sapphic experience to something less about reality and more about appealing to stereotypes. Also, some parts just don’t add up. In one particularly risqué scene, Allison’s character attempts to dominate and insult her partner, making a big fuss that she’s always been ‘jealous’ of her youth, but why? This is never discussed beforehand and doesn’t become a big problem either. The script forces the actors to perform a plot that hasn’t been tied up and deliver lines that have a blurry objective. So, despite some compelling acting from both of them, the characters just feel too far out of reach to be relatable, therefore engaging.

Private View tries to explore the messy aspects of a fast-paced, drug-fuelled, lust-driven entangled romance but gets mixed up in its own message. Despite some enjoyable comedy and design, the play fails to develop this bizarre pairing, and by the end, there are still loose threads that beg to be sewn together.