The joy of reviewing is that it introduces me to writers and theatre I might not have otherwise found. Christopher Brett Bailey’s show at Soho Theatre feels exactly like that kind of discovery, not my usual kind of booking, a little bit out of my comfort zone, but all the more interesting and challenging for it.
At first, my inner basic theatre b*tch did struggle with whether this is actually ‘theatre’ or more of a rehearsed reading or script-in-hand performance. Alex Fernandes’ lighting is phenomenal, but I did wonder if it was ready to be shown. I found myself willing Bailey to put the pages down, to trust the material enough to lift it into something more fully theatrical. If Laura Linney can hold a stage alone, script-free, for My Name Is Lucy Barton, then surely he could stretch a bit further, too?
But, ultimately, I got swept along in the story, which is witty, macabre, romantic and repulsive in equal measures. I stopped resisting and just enjoyed.
What’s particularly effective is how warmly it’s delivered; we’re just all here having a chat about that time he met Satan. He doesn’t push too hard for laughs or suggest any of this is that strange. Even the most absurd moments are handled with a kind of calm, almost deadpan tone. He’s just casually sharing the intimate details of a memorable night.
You do still notice the script, but I started to mind it less. It becomes part of the rhythm rather than a barrier. There’s even something quite coy about it, like being let into the workings of the piece rather than shown a finished product. Because it could have been performed, so this choice must be something to do with removing that extra layer, maybe? Maybe bringing in a different kind of intimacy? Perhaps this is punk theatre, and more real for lack of trying to be? I guess the audience decides.
That Bailey is a brilliant, absurd, imaginative storyteller is not in doubt; he’s highly engaging to watch and the 70 minutes flew by. What lingers is his voice; the intelligence of the writing, the control of it, and that slightly dangerous sense of humour that runs through everything. Bailey knows exactly how to stretch an idea for laughs or shock, and when to pull it back.
If you’re a fan of Chuck Palahniuk, Irvine Welsh, and Dennis Kelly, then you’ll love this!
Review by Roz Wyllie
Fear and Loathing meets South Park in a screwball monologue that’s part romance, part buddy comedy, part body horror.
Two miles north of hell, a nameless deadbeat narrator spots Satan buying soy milk at the 7-Eleven. Satan’s a washed-up-has-been who’s totally lost his edge… until he falls in love with our narrator and the two embark on a debauched misadventure: slapstick, violent, whimsical, dreamlike, tender.
Written and performed by Christopher Brett Bailey
Produced by Beckie Darlington
Lighting Design: Alex Fernandes
Outside Eyes: Rens Tesink, Felicia Kaspar, Max Elton
I SAW SATAN AT THE 7-ELEVEN
Soho Theatre Dean Street
21 April to 2 May 2026
