Not every single-performer play has its own Wikipedia page, and not every single-performer play can take to the stage of a 960-seat venue and present a show that never feels like it would have been better in a more intimate space. The more the merrier, it seems. I trust you will forgive a brief diversion from discussing the production to note the reopening of the Walthamstow Granada, a Grade II* listed building which was once a cinema and might have become a church if it were not for significant local opposition. The building was eventually sold by the Universal Church of the Kingdom of God to Antic, a pub company, who reopened it as ‘Mirth, Marvel and Maud’ (I reviewed a couple of shows there) before it was bought by Waltham Forest Council in 2019, and redeveloped prior to this opening, as Soho Theatre Walthamstow, in 2025.
There’s an air of familiarity in this show, which felt like a late-night Edinburgh Fringe show (indeed it had the 9:30pm slot at the Traverse Theatre at Fringe 2024) – a lot of chaos, a stage in an ever-increasing state of disarray, and some audience involvement (spoiler alert – you’re safe if you’re sat in the circle, not so much if you have a front row or an aisle seat in the front stalls). At a different show, the repetitive nature of some of what goes on might have become irritating. Not here. Natalie Palamides begins by playing both people in a relationship, Mark and Christina (or should that be Christina and Mark?) and for nearly an hour and a half, the right-hand-side Mark and left-hand-side Christina continue, with seemingly boundless energy, what transpires to be quite a rambunctious relationship, in more ways than one.
It has to be seen to be believed – the different voices, mannerisms and hand gestures are maintained from beginning to end. At one point, having come partway up one of the stalls aisles, she ‘realises’ (inverted commas mine) she is performing half-and-half in the round, and starts spinning around, every other word spoken by Mark and Christina in turn, at normal conversational speed. The sheer physicality barely lets up, the couple argue, split up, get back together again, and so on. Being set in the United States, there’s a gun involved (of course, there is), though its generous use with its inevitable consequences doesn’t stop a happy ending, thanks to a mixture of absurdism and a belief (or, rather, a suspension of disbelief) in the afterlife.
Ultimately, there aren’t any moral messages to take away, or a social commentary on contemporary society. This is pure, unrestricted, unrestrained clowning and comedy, bold escapism from everything going on in the world. The show’s title is derived from Mark’s inability to say the word ‘deer’ properly, and a regular habit that both Christina and Mark have to say ‘we’re’ to each other without finishing the sentence. Light entertainment in every sense of the term, this is fun with a capital F.
Review by Chris Omaweng
In WEER, Natalie Palamides takes audiences on a chaotic, hilarious and unexpectedly tender journey through the world of ‘90s rom-coms. Playing both halves of a relationship in turmoil, she deconstructs the grand romantic gestures, sweeping monologues, and emotional manipulation that define the genre – all while delivering her signature mix of absurdist humour, physical comedy, and immersive audience interaction. Inspired by classic romantic dramas, personal experiences, and even vaudeville’s lost “half-and-half” acts, WEER is a genre-bending exploration of love, identity, and the stories we tell about romance.
NATALIE PALAMIDES: WEER
2 to 10 May 2025
