Written and Directed by Ellie Coote

Music and Lyrics by Jack Godfrey

Review by Dominic Corr

Pleasance Courtyard

There’s a moment in Hot Mess—a pop musical about the climate crisis masquerading as a romcom—where Earth, played with volcanic intensity by Danielle Steers (The Cher Show), belts a note so pure and furious it feels like tectonic plates might shift beneath the Pleasance Courtyard. It’s in that moment the show transcends its playful premise and reveals its true power: a searing, satirical dissection of control, abuse, and the heartbreak of being taken for granted.

Written and directed by Ellie Coote, with music and lyrics by Jack Godfrey, Hot Mess reimagines the relationship between Earth and (Hu)manity as a millennia-spanning love affair. Sparks fly, wheat is harvested, and technology flourishes—but what begins as a euphoric union quickly curdles into something darker. Humanity, played by Tobias Turley with a charismatic edge and growing menace, becomes possessive, manipulative, and ultimately destructive. The metaphor is clear, but never heavy-handed. This is a show that trusts its audience to connect the dots—and rewards them with razor-sharp writing and a score that punches through the satire with emotional clarity.

Godfrey’s lyrics are the engine of this production. Witty, biting, and often devastating, they chart the arc of a relationship from flirtation to fallout with precision. Songs like “I’ll Do That Tomorrow” and “The Moon Was Just a Phase” are deceptively catchy, but beneath the pop hooks lie truths about procrastination, gaslighting, and emotional neglect. The music, co-orchestrated by Joe Beighton, blends synth-pop with theatrical balladry, evoking Six and Hamilton while carving out its own sonic identity.

Steers, known for her powerhouse turns in Six and Bat Out of Hell, is nothing short of a global powerhouse as Earth. Her vocals are rich, controlled, and emotionally raw—each run and vibrato a tectonic shift. But it’s her presence that anchors the show. She moves with purpose, her expressions flickering between sass, sorrow, and fury. Earth isn’t just a character—she’s a battleground, and Steers makes every moment count. Matching this, Turley compliments her with a performance that evolves from charming to chilling. His Humanity begins as a bumbling romantic, but as the relationship deepens, so does his entitlement. His final transformation—dressed in sleek black, eyes cold, voice sharp—is a portrait of unchecked ambition and emotional detachment. It’s a performance that lingers, especially in duet moments where his voice blends with Steers’ in uneasy harmony.

The production design, led by Shankho Chaudhuri (set and costume), Ryan Joseph Stafford (lighting), and Paul Gatehouse (sound), is sleek and effective. Curved ramps and shelves evoke a planetary stage, while lighting shifts mirror the emotional temperature of the relationship. Alexzandra Sarmiento’s movement direction adds texture, with choreography that feels both intimate and expansive.

What elevates Hot Mess beyond satire is its emotional intelligence. The show doesn’t just parody climate politics—it interrogates the dynamics of abusive relationships. Humanity’s gaslighting, Earth’s self-doubt, the cycle of apology and relapse—it’s all painfully familiar. And yet, the show never loses its humour or its heart. It’s a balancing act few musicals manage, and Hot Mess does so with flair.

A reminder of how potent musical theatre can be when it dares to confront, Hot Mess reminds us that while horror may be visceral, and drama may be cerebral—but musicals, when crafted with care, can be both. This is theatre that sings, screams, and refuses to be ignored. It’s not just a show—it’s a reckoning. And Earth, for once, gets the final word

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