BLANDY – Lovelock Productions Unleashes a Chaotic, Punk-Infused Reimagining of Mary Blandy’s Tale⭐⭐⭐⭐

Lovelock Productions’ BLANDY delivers a bold and electrifying take on one of the 18th century’s most infamous criminal cases — the execution of Mary Blandy for patricide. This two-hander, equal parts historical reconstruction and punk-inspired theatrical rebellion, tears through time and convention, plunging the audience into a whirlwind of era-hopping energy and darkly comic chaos.

Rather than opting for a traditional retelling, the production juxtaposes the manners of Georgian society with the bluntness of modern idioms. What could have easily slid into stylistic gimmickry instead becomes a sharp, self-aware commentary on how the same story can echo through generations — twisted, reframed, and reinterpreted.

Mary Blandy has been a recurring figure in popular media for centuries — from salacious pamphlets to serialized podcasts. She’s often painted either as a heartless killer or a naïve pawn. This production leans into the ambiguity, using its irreverent tone to explore the murky grey between villain and victim. It’s a true crime dissection through a theatrical lens — probing how society loves to vilify complex women and oversimplify uncomfortable truths.

The narrative centers on Mary’s ill-fated entanglement with William Henry Cranstoun, a romance steeped in secrecy and tension. As their relationship unravels, we’re pulled into a psychological tangle of love, pressure, and betrayal. Luke Nixon — playing both Cranstoun and Mary’s father — delivers a jaw-dropping performance, particularly in a tense, breath-holding sequence where he handles both roles in a single, riveting scene. Opposite him, Georgie Dettmer’s Mary is a commanding presence, shifting between desperation and defiance with gut-punch intensity.

Their chemistry crackles with unpredictable energy. Nixon morphs seamlessly between personas, while Dettmer anchors the chaos with a performance that is both emotionally raw and darkly funny. Together, they maintain a momentum that never wavers, even as the play spins further into theatrical mayhem.

Visually, the show is stripped back but powerfully dynamic. A sparse stage — just benches and sound — transforms effortlessly from domestic intimacy to public trial, aided by a pulsing soundscape and furious pacing. The aesthetic is intentionally scrappy and unvarnished, reinforcing the show’s punk ethos and its refusal to sanitise the grotesque.

But BLANDY isn’t just theatrical shock and awe. Beneath its wild exterior is a pointed interrogation of how women are framed in narratives of crime and punishment — and how little the language of scandal has evolved. By mixing biting humour with historical horror, the show dismantles centuries of inherited judgment and asks us to look again.

The result? A whirlwind of satire, tragedy, and grit that’s as unsettling as it is exhilarating. BLANDY is not just a retelling — it’s a theatrical riot, full of guts, wit, and irreverent charm.