FringeReview UK 2026
Tender
Bush Theatre
Genre: Comedic, Contemporary, Costume, Drama, LGBTQ+ Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Theatre
Venue: Holloway Theatre, (Main Bush Space)
Festival: FringeReview UK
Low Down
After an initial run in November 2024, and like the recent The P Word, Eleanor Tindall’s Tender returns to the Bush Theatre’s main Holloway studio, directed by Emily Aboud till August 1. It’s been revised and expanded and this version is a must-see: that is, for anyone looking for intimate theatre or a love-story in this sizzle season.
With such terrific performances too you root for this not-yet-couple right to the blackout.
Review
“You might say that my life is perfect.” If that doesn’t raise hackles, alarm bells or the clop of one of those empty plastic beakers you’re allowed to drag in (and drop) during the performance, nothing will. After an initial run in November 2024, and like the recent The P Word, Eleanor Tindall’s Tender returns to the Bush Theatre’s main Holloway studio, directed by Emily Aboud till August 1. It’s been revised and expanded and this version is a must-see: that is, for anyone looking for intimate theatre or a love-story in this sizzle season.
Returning as Ivy, Nadi Kemp-Sayfi is joined by Francesca Amewudah-Rivers as Ash. Who by turning away and using a softly reverbed mic upstage, also plays Ivy’s vanilla boyfriend Max (all faux-chill) and Ivy’s troubled, needy brother Cas.
Often plays about coming out late are solo shows and Tindall’s is fascinating for crafting one with two such characters discovering their sexualities in their thirties and simultaneously: though at different pitches. Indeed Ash’s character seems so confident in her queerness you wonder why she’s so recently been with a man at all. That’s a wryly deceptive move. Ash’s dialogue is full of wit and sly fun, though it’s Ivy’s transformation that’s more solidly realised. A shy, supressed “Capricorn”, Ivy’s believable as the sober one: we need Ash’s quick-fire to bring out Ivy’s flashes of humour.
A chance cute-meet, a look that lingers despite; it’s all there and these two actors and story won’t let you go. Kemp-Sayfi has lived with Ivy a long time. It shows in her playing off a conscious self to ripples of Ivy’s nagging desire, pauses and shy impulsive moves. Amewudah-Rivers’ Ash seems more confident, and is certainly up for something very different to an ex-turned stalker. Ash’s own actions haven’t helped admittedly, but there’s a frisson of danger and you keep fearing the worst. Amewudah-Rivers shows why she received the Ian Charleson Award last year too: she’s become Ash. There’s a new authority and weight.
Ivy though is carrying a clunky caddy of two spiky men in the present. Her naggingly normal-but-not-quite boyfriend Max who’s away for long stretches; and Cas, who even Max finds creepy and needy. At least Max doesn’t pursue Ivy by phone. Cas does. It might be too complex to work out that backstory of Ivy at 16, but surely Cas has something to do with it.
The hesitations, false starts, fortuitous encounters, the way both Ivy retreats or Ash with draws is achingly real and this part of the writing – the most important by far – is warmly, wittily and ye tenderly realised. Their first sexual encounter is achingly realised, almost a ballet in intimacy director Tommy Ross-Williams’ handling. Almsost immediately Ivy declares she has a boyfriend, trying to lid it. Hasn’t everyone known someone like that? It’s the kind of writing that might soon be characterised as Tindallesque
That “perfect” statement certainly loads much against Ivy, though not unsympathetically. A thirty-something with “everything in place”, and whose 16-year-old self has already entered like Lady Macbeth with blood on her hands: though it’s her own. The pitch of surrealism isn’t dominant, and such moments stand aside from the gentle storytelling: with alternating monologues and dialogue we’ve come to expect in such narratives, Not least The P Word, which played here only last month.
There’s symbolism that rounds on itself though doesn’t quite land. As Ivy enters with bloodied hands to wash, she claims she’s hidden parts of her body in her childhood bedroom. The suggestion of self-burying and suppression is clear, but some inciting incident from Ivy’s teen self might have helped. The set echoes this sense of spook, and an adult action near the end picks up on this opening. The symbolism though is slightly fuzzy and the 16-year-old self who might have discovered something isn’t brought back.
There’s an ingenious plot-point that echoes Rafaella Marcus’ Sap at Soho Theatre in 2023. It wasn’t for that reason I guessed immediately what will prove a pivotal reveal; and there’s another neat twist I didn’t see coming. Information is withheld for good dramatic reason and there’s much in Tindall’s careful layering that’s timed ideally.
Amewudah-Rivers does what she can with taking on the two male roles, deliberately underwritten: certainly having onstage actors (even one doubling) playing them might upset the dynamic and leave seriously undernourished male characters taking up oxygen. As it is, they’re naggingly liminal, which fits the aesthetic of the show. It’s not quite right, a design flaw; but anything else – including total excision – might unbalance too. Tindall in fact leaves it open for a production to add a third or fourth actor, though reaffirms it’s written as a two-hander.
Alys Whitehead’s costumes own subtle reveals. Her set is deceptive: a square of the floor is polished, with a trough of water for hand-washing at the start, and a satin-sheeted backdrop whose use accompanies a visceral moment: though the symbolism Tindall asks for in the text is less savage, it’s still a moment. Its billowing and disturbing shifts, like a haunting out of M.R. James, is capitalised on by David Doyle’s lighting, nuancing micro-shifts in colour for subtly different interiors. And as for haunted, Elle Isherwood’s sound points other worlds with ominous noises off.
Despite these few flaws, including early muffled dialogue which soon clears, Tender lives up to his names: as wince and flinch as well as gentleness over 95 minutes. With such terrific performances too you root for this not-yet-couple right to the blackout.
Intimacy Director Tommy Ross-Williams, associate Intimacy Director Sophie Cooch, Production Manager Titch Gosling, CSM on Book Nikita Bala, ASM Frankie Neville, Producer Jessica Anand Productions, Associate Producer Broccoli Art. Photo Credit: Harry Elletson.
