There’s a trend in contemporary plays of time-hopping, though this one doesn’t bounce around in what has become a conventional format. In switching between the ‘present’ and the ‘past’, Robbie (Joe Layton) and Jess (Hannah Sinclair Robinson) are minded to disagree in the ‘present’ as they recall the rise and fall of their relationship. “Recollections may vary,” as the Royal Family put it not so long ago – except here, recollections do vary, with each party believing themselves to be correct. This is, in essence, the source of almost all of the show’s dramatic tension, with the remainder coming from the play’s critical incident.
The disagreements alone provoke much thought, and have implications far beyond a modern relationship which began, perhaps surprisingly, offline rather than on a dating app. It introduces, very quickly, for instance, the concept of unreliable narrators, who sometimes are unable to agree on the most basic of details, such as whether they stopped by at a greasy spoon or some other kind of eatery. Can anything recalled be relied upon? There are memories, it becomes clear, that one party or another would rather forget – if only they could: one of the few things they are able to agree on is that as comprehensive a story as possible should be told, warts and all, as it were.
On stage are at least 120 filing cabinets, at a conservative estimate. These are regularly climbed on (how else would Robbie and Jess – or is it Jess and Robbie? – reach the top drawers?) with various drawers sometimes opening and closing ‘by themselves’, inverted commas mine, to ensure smooth climbing. The trepidation with which some of the contents in the drawers are removed suggests some dark secrets, and in one scene, where Robbie empties multiple drawers at pace, shows a willingness to indulge in cathartic revelation.
Like many plays in recent years, trauma forms a significant part of the narrative, especially in the second half. The show does not, as far as I can deduce, have understudies, and Joe Layton soldiered on despite an increasingly strained voice on press night. I bother to mention this as it actually worked in the show’s favour. I don’t know if he should have continued, the risk of more severe damage later on being what it is, Dame Julie Andrews being a case in point. But here, the couple’s struggles became all the more real: this is a story the characters would, in some respects, rather not retell, but it is their agreed method of getting closure.
The details of this couple’s story suggest very little, if anything, about them and their lives are out of the ordinary, which gives the narrative a strong sense of familiarity. Of course, there’s also a danger that patrons might feel somewhat short-changed – did they really spend an evening at the theatre watching a completely ordinary story? In the end, though, the two-hour and twenty-minute running time went by speedily. A hugely relatable and perceptive show with generous doses of physicality.
Review by Chris Omaweng
“Love’s strange, isn’t it? You think you’re going to feel it in your chest, or your gut. But I swear, I can feel it in every cell.”
Jess and Robbie. A chance meeting, some disastrous dates, an extraordinary transformative love. It’s the stuff of fairy tales. Or is it?
Lost Atoms is a wild ride through a life-changing relationship, or Jess and Robbie’s recollection of it. Together they scale the soaring highs and crushing lows, relive the beats of connection, the moments of loss. But are their stories the same? And can their memories be trusted?
Joe Layton – Robbie
Hannah Sinclair Robinson – Jess
Anna Jordan – Writer
Scott Graham – Director
Andrzej Goulding – Designer
Simisola Majekodunmi – Lighting Designer
Carolyn Downing – Sound Designer
Julie Blake – Music Supervisor
Alice McNicholas – Costume Designer
LOST ATOMS
Lyric Hammersmith Theatre
29 January to 28 February 2026
