Studio 16 to March 29, 2026
Tickets from $29.50 at www.mitchandmurrayproductions.com
Posted March 22, 2026
I should have paid attention to the press release; the heading was “HARM – An Accessible Play For Gen Z to Boomer”; that rules me out.
I missed about a third of the dialogue because it was delivered in rapid-fire, slangy, young-speak British; my brain was translating as fast as it could but it just couldn’t keep up. There are also loads of current British colloquialisms (“obvs” and “emo song”, for example) and unfamiliar references (“JoJoMaman blouse”, “Gorgon women” and “Cronut”). But most of all I found HARM sad, sad, sad while everyone around me was laughing. I haven’t been this out-of-sync with an audience for a long time. But Mitch and Murray Productions attracts a younger, more with-it audience so it shouldn’t have surprised me.
I didn’t think it fair to review this show and that pained me because I have respected and admired everything this risk-taking, smart young company has ever done. I called the publicist and told her I reluctantly wasn’t going to review it; I simply hadn’t caught enough of the dialogue – possibly as much as thirty percent.
The company shot me a digital copy of Phoebe Eclair-Powell’s script right away. I read it, realized I had heard much more than I thought, and I changed my mind about reviewing. It’s fearless and unflinching. Everyone from Boomer to Gen Z should see it. Older than Boomer? Take the risk.
The single character is never named. In the script she’s referred to as “Woman”. She’s a thirty-nine-year-old London realtor. No husband, boyfriend, kids or friends (other than Instagram or What’sApp ‘friends’). She has zero self-esteem. Gave her boss Barry a “hand job” at the company Christmas party because, “well, it was Christmas”. She watches the pigeons having sex on the windowsill of her flat – a lot.
And then her big break comes. Barry turns over a £1.2 million home for her to sell. She meets Alice, an influencer with more than a million followers, and our sad, sad realtor is hooked. Down the rabbit hole she goes. It gets ugly. And uglier. She overhears Alice’s partner Daniel quip, to a bunch of house-warming partyers, “If she was a dog, she would be put down.” He was talking about her.
No one reading Eclair-Powell’s script would laugh out loud. Maybe a wry “oh, yeah.” But actor/comedian/writer Kelli Ogmundson and director Jennifer Copping take all the dark humour they can find in HARM and run with it. Ogmundson crawls, prances, slouches, launches herself around the stage, often in great baggy clothing including a sort of huge onesie that makes her look like a big, unhappy baby. She disappears into a bed. She delivers lines lying on her back on the bed or while puffing away doing yoga. It’s a tour de force and she nails it. This comedic approach is a directorial decision, well-suited to Ogmundson and I can’t argue with it: for almost all of those in the opening night audience, it worked. Like damn.
From artistic director Aaron Craven’s program notes: “. . we were struck by how powerfully it [HARM] speaks to the current societal landscape. . . HARM asks us to consider the consequences of that reality – how quickly narratives can form online, how easily empathy can disappear, and how deeply the online world can affect our mental health. In an age shaped by social media and constant digital connection, our words, judgments, and assumptions can travel faster and farther than ever before.”
It’s doubtful that Woman was mentally ill – just lonely and terribly vulnerable. No one is born with low self-esteem, so who knows what brought her to this low point – other than one reference to her mother hitting her once when she continued to sing the same song over and over again.
We know she’s not alone. Any thinking person knows about the dangers inherent in the Age of Celebrity or influencers – people famous for being famous. We disdain those impressed by millions of “clicks” or we are indifferent to them.
But playwright Eclair-Powell, Copping and Mitch and Murray Productions neither ridicule nor mock Woman and the hundreds of thousands like her; they offer them understanding and compassion. HARM ends with a glimmer of hope. No more laughter, just a thoughtful, quiet sigh.
It’s a vitally important play about loneliness and our ‘click affair’ with social media. See it and laugh or don’t laugh. Either way.