Technologically impressive, with a fascinating sci-fi concept that ultimately falls short when searching for depth or meaning. Tesseract is divided into two halves like many pieces of conventional theatre, yet more unconventionally, Tesseract’s first act is a 3D film, the second a live performance. Armed with 3D glasses, Charles Atlas’s film exhibits incredibly impressive visuals, the clarity and scope makes for an immersive experience. For want of better terminology, the performers look as though they are truly popping out of the screen in such clear lucidity, far more-so than any 3D cinema experience.

An unexplainable claustrophobic nuisance gradually pervade my untested frail limbs when the stage sparkles to life, diverting me from my dreamy yearning for white wine and Madagascan-vanilla ice-cream at the interval. The sordidness of the rocky and craggy scenography anaesthetises me from the glamorous formality of the auditorium, with blinding torches on robust helmets remorselessly stinging my confident imperturbability like a treacherous mosquito. I am catapulted, descending anxiously underground via a wobbly and unstable lift, in the surreal reality – if you pardon my jeu de mots or, in other terms, wordplay – of the gritty life of 1980s miners.

From the moment this production of Equus begins, it succeeds in engulfing its audience into the world it creates. Peter Shaffer’s text returns to the London stage in a co-production between Theatre Royal Stratford East and the English Touring Theatre and it’s a production that delivers on every level. It conjures up disturbing imagery in its staging choices that echo the characters feelings, as well as pay detailed attention to every movement made by the actors. This all results in creating a world that both fascinates and repels its audience for all the right reasons.

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.” Anyone who’s ever had a parent can relate to Philip Larkin’s famous opening to This Be The Verse. Larkin goes on to write “but they were fucked up in their turn”, a line that drips with the stark reality that damage is quite often an inherited gift. I mention this because bequeathed melancholy is pertinent to French playwright Florian Zeller’s work.

Courtesy of Marc Brenner.

You’d most likely associate the world’s of Augmented and Virtual Reality with gaming – a form of entertainment enjoyed by gaming enthusiasts worldwide; these technologies allowing for participants to escape the real world for however long they so choose. In order for that to happen, hours of content and various scenarios are programmed to make no 2 gaming experiences the same, AøE’s Whist channels into this lucrative world of gaming, a maximum of 10 participant donning 3D glasses and headphones to experience an auditory visual reality like no other.

In the now infamous words of Brenda from Bristol ‘not another one!’ was exactly my reaction when hearing the season announcement that Tartuffe would be making its way to the Lyttelton stage at the National Theatre. But, you can never have too many plays by dead white guys, so off I went to Molière’s comedy classic that flirts fact with fiction and pokes fun at the bourgeoisie.

Jesus Hopped the ‘A’ Train delivers a compelling portrayal of faith, religion and morality. Kate Hewitt’s adaptation of Stephen Adly Guirgis’s dark comedy strikes a brilliant tonal balance of humour and emotional weight. It follows the literal and internal trials of Angel Cruz (Ukweli Roach) and the characters that he meets during his incarceration awaiting trial. The humour lands well, natural and unforced, often the room erupts in laughter; yet Hewitt’s adaptation truly shines in its more intimate moments. The characters engage in profound questioning of a higher power whilst battling their own inner turmoil, fighting demons conjured by their past actions and whether faith can relieve them of their own culpability.

Courtesy of Johan Persson.

As a part of the Arcola Theatre’s Creative Disruption the Arcola Women’s Company presents Women of Troy, a reimaging of Euripides’s text told from a female perspective. A cast of sixteen women form the ensemble for this production. In turns they recount Troy’s fall, detailing the trauma surrounding the events that took place. The graphic descriptions are echoed in their bloodied clothes and dishevelled appearances. This, combined with a bare stage, conveys the cold atmosphere of the piece.