“They’re not going to catch us,” Dan Aykroyd, as Elwood Blues, tells his brother Jake, played by John Belushi. Possibly one of the most famous lines in the Blues Brothers film.
It chronicles the lives of those who made up Blues Brothers, in a vivid manner that shows their lives during the period of making The Blues Brothers and their other works as well as their lives away from the cameras. It bravely shows both the light and the dark, which keeps it being truthful and, although there is the inevitable nostalgic look, it steers away from it all being through “rose-tinted glasses”.
The Blues Brothers has held fascination and entertainment throughout and across many generations. Not every film brings different generations together, this film does. The book is an insightful, well-researched look into behind the scenes. It neatly joins the interesting documentaries also made about John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd.
Aretha Franklin, James Brown, John Lee Hooker, Cab Calloway, Ray Charles were persuaded to be onboard for the film that was to re-ignite what was seen as a long forgotten tradition of Blues music, not that it was easy to bring everyone together, as the book documents. It also documents film like Animal House, the huge costs involved, delays in filming and personal finances.
It isn’t totally about the film, it shows Belushi and Aykroyd on Saturday night live and their darker, drug-fuelled nights, marriage troubles and other challenges. It didn’t shy away from those times, which gave an honesty about how things spiraled to the fateful end. This makes the book more rounded and just adds to the fascination of the lives of people behind the film.
What Daniel De Vise brings is a fascinating insightful look into the lives and times of The Blues Brothers, written in a compelling manner.
It was so well-written and researched I bought this for someone I know. That person has since informed me it was enjoyable and added to knowledge of a favourite film.
Blurb
The story of the epic friendship between John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, the golden era of improv, the early days of Saturday Night Live, and the making of a comedic film classic that helped shape our popular culture
“They’re not going to catch us,” Dan Aykroyd, as Elwood Blues, tells his brother Jake, played by John Belushi. “We’re on a mission from God.” So opens the musical action comedy The Blues Brothers, which hit theaters on June 20, 1980. Their scripted mission was to save a local Chicago orphanage. But Aykroyd, who conceived and wrote much of the film, had a greater mission: to honor the then-seemingly forgotten tradition of rhythm and blues, some of whose greatest artists—Aretha Franklin, James Brown, John Lee Hooker, Cab Calloway, Ray Charles—made the film as unforgettable as its wild car chases. Much delayed and vastly over budget, beset by mercurial and oft drugged-out stars, The Blues Brothers opened to outraged reviews. However, in the 44 years since, it has been acknowledged a classic: it has been inducted into the National Film Registry for its cultural significance, even declared a “Catholic classic” by the Church itself, and re-aired thousands of times on television to huge worldwide audiences. It is, undeniably, one of the most significant films of the twentieth century.
The story behind any classic is rich; the saga behind The Blues Brothers, as Daniel de Visé reveals, is epic, encompassing the colorful childhoods of Belushi and Aykroyd; the comedic revolution sparked by Harvard’s Lampoon and Chicago’s Second City; the birth and anecdote-rich, drug-filled early years of Saturday Night Live, where the Blues Brothers were born as an act amidst turmoil and rivalry; and, of course, the indelible behind-the-scenes narrative of how the film was made, scene by memorable scene. Based on original research and dozens of interviews probing the memories of principals from director John Landis and producer Bob Weiss to Aykroyd himself, The Blues Brothers illuminates an American masterpiece while vividly portraying the creative geniuses behind modern comedy.
27 Church Street is the debut novel of A.J. Hobart and was more than pleasantly surprised at what was concealed within the pages. A well-researched, atmospheric family drama, the sort that would sit very nicely on tv on a Sunday night. It’s a very different book for Hobeck Books to publish, but one that’s very worthwhile checking out.
Meet three generations of the Stretton family, a family who actually lived and breathed on this earth. If you haven’t heard of them, you soon will. They were surgeons, pre-NHS, which adds interest, challenges and also some interesting insights perhaps the NHS (National Health Service in the UK) could learn a little from. The prestige and attitudes are higher and better in 1910 in some ways, although perhaps not in others. Not everyone in the family wants to follow in those footsteps. Sammy doesn’t see a future in the medical field, causing friction as he has a desire to be a different type of working man…
Calvin Whitman, a brash American from New York changes things for the working man when he rocks up. He’s ready to buy anyone and anything to make his business and factory work. He does have one okay point to him, that he keeps to his word. There’s nothing wishy-washy about him. He doesn’t, however, like it when the Stretton family try to get some semblence of order to deal with the Smallpox outbreak.
The insights of family relations are often poignant and relatable, with rebellion and love. 27 Church Street has lots of drama behind its doors, and outside them too, which captivates interest and stops it from becoming dry. The facts of the time period mixed with human experience with nothing sugar-coated keeps the plot intriguing.
For a debut novel, it has lots of strengths to it and one I recommend.
Blurb
Kidderminster Town Hall, July, 1910 A glittering family celebration
The Stretton family spare no expense as the heads of their medical dynasty, Samuel and Kate, mark their golden wedding anniversary at Kidderminster Town Hall. Daughter Katie fights to ensure everything goes to plan. But family divisions soon come to the fore in a very public way, fueling gossip that will keep the town talking for weeks.
A transatlantic threat
Meanwhile, the social fabric of this famous carpet-making town is being threatened by a surprise arrival. Ambitious American carpet-tycoon Calvin Whitmore has designs on disrupting the established order. Whitmore’s son Charles is far from convinced about his father’s plans. Can Katie support him to find the courage to finally face down his father?
A lethal epidemic
As the future of Kidderminster is being fought over, the town’s population is threatened by a deadly outbreak of smallpox. Principal surgeon Lionel Stretton, son of Samuel, must inspire his hard-pressed team at the infirmary to save as many people as possible. Under the strain, more buried family secrets emerge, secrets that threaten to destroy the family’s unity and reputation forever…
Unlicensed is released on Apple TV, Amazon and YouTube. Links can be found after the interview. Unlicensed is a boxing movie, but not your typical boxing movie. This delves deeper into a character called Danny Goode, an insider trader and he has just been released from prison. Viewers get to follow his story, but has he learnt anything? In the interview we talk about Danny Goode, how this is a very different type of film from other boxing movies, gambling, toxic masculinity and more… You can also see links after this interview as to where to find the film. I viewed the film before composing the interview and even if you aren’t totally a boxing fan, Unlicensed is still a very interesting, good, thought-provoking film, exploring worldly issues and second chances.
Welcome to Bookmarks and Stages. Mark Hampton.
What got you into making short films?
I started making films at a very young age – my dad bought a video camera when I was maybe 8 years old, and I’d seen tv shows abut the making of Star Wars and Indiana Jones, so I was intrigued about how it was all done. A lot of those early efforts involved Lego! Then in my teens I remade Hollywood movies with friends after school – but I began in earnest a little over ten years ago, when I decided I needed to develop my skills as a story-teller. My first real short, A Walk in the Woods was a drama with a kind of fantasy flashback and almost no dialogue. I wanted to see if I could tell a story almost entirely visually.
Unlicensed is a film that takes a different look at boxing films, what inspired you to put a spin on things and look at secret gambling addictions?
It really came from a desire to see a different kind of protagonist in a boxing movie. Instead of the classic ‘working-class lad does good’ scenario, I wanted to take a character who’d had everything and lost it, and put him into the boxing ring. Danny was a successful trader on the surface but his addiction destroyed everything. His career, his family, his reputation. Gambling problems are common in the city – the high-stakes, adrenaline fuelled lifestyle is almost designed for addictive personalities, and addicts can be incredibly devious in the way that they hide their addictions.
There seems to be a plethora of gambling ads on tv nowadays and a large range of ways to gamble, instead of less as successive governments had promised, what impact do you feel this has on society and how have you fed this into your film to create a strong message?
Governments of all persuasions have been delinquent in their responsibilities to ordinary people, especially those who are vulnerable to gambling addiction. The gambling industry is incredibly lucrative – the CEO of Bet365 is the richest woman in the UK. A multi-billionaire. With that kind of money at stake the industry spends a fortune lobbying government to water-down regulation and prevent the gambling platforms from being held accountable for the damage they do. With Unlicensed I wanted to show the insidious effect of addiction – there’s one scene where everything that’s been hidden suddenly become apparent – that’s the nature of addiction, and the gambling companies keep getting richer because of it.
Danny Goode is an insider trader who becomes disgraced. How did you research a trading industry that is partly overt in its actions, but also partly hidden away from public view?
I worked as an auditor for one of the big accountancy firms and I used to audit a brokerage firm, so whilst I haven’t lived the life, I’ve literally seen the receipts. The wining and dining, the bars and clubs – it all part of the lifestyle and is expected of them to maintain their networks. The amounts of money being splashed around are eye-watering, and it’s not surprising that they get this sense of entitlement. I was an auditor around the time of the 2008 financial crisis, and it was shocking that these traders all made fortunes when the going was good, but it was ordinary people that suffered when it all came crashing down.
The film cleverly shows the juxtaposition of lives between those who have moved on whilst Danny was in prison and Danny who thinks he can re-enter his family, friend’s, work colleague’s lives a though everything will fall into place, almost where he left off. How important do you feel it is to create such raw realism?
When we first meet Danny he’s just coming out of prison, but you can tell just by the look on his face that he hasn’t learned anything. He’s still got that city-boy cockiness and wants to pick up where he left off. Finding out that he can’t do that is a rude awakening and big part of his journey – which is to ultimately realise that there are more important things than himself.
Danny hooks up with Jon, who gives him a job in his restaurant and shows him his boxing community. How important do you think it was to show Danny being given opportunities against the odds to rebuild his life after his criminal past?
Jon, played brilliantly by Mark Tunstall, is a true friend, possibly the only one Danny has. He knew Danny before he became the hot-shot city boy, and he was never impressed by any of it. He’s just Danny’s mate and he’s there through thick and thin, an it’s only with Jon’s help that Danny is able to finally admit to his gambling problem. But as well as supporting Danny, Jon shows him a different view on what makes a fulfilling and happy life.
Danny has a lot to prove as he builds a new reputation for himself, how do you hope this impacts the audience, that he doesn’t just walk into jobs and has to really work to get to a new place in his life?
It was critical for Danny’s journey that he is forced to face up to the things he’s done and the consequences of his actions on those around him. They say ‘no plan survives contact with the enemy’, and for Danny, the enemy is reality. His early confidence is quickly eroded as his options dry up and he ends up washing pots in Jon’s restaurant for some cash-in-hand. The fall from grace had to be huge enough to make the prospect of stepping into the boxing ring seem like his only way back, and even then it’s not an easy ride – Danny takes a few bruises on the journey to the big fight.
You show, in what is almost a side plot, attitudes of some successful men, such as a boxer, who thinks he can practically buy women with his wealth and expect something back with flash tips. What do you feel about men like this and how do you feel these attitudes should and could change?
Nicky Miller represents a kind of toxic masculinity and Jack Newhouse brought that to life superbly. Nicky’s views on women are wildly outdated and offensive but they’re the kinds of views that are being presented to boys and young men on social media all the time. What I think is important is that toxic influencers are exposed as a con and that we celebrate more examples of good, caring men and make them the models of masculinity.
Society can be quite materialistic at times, but how do you feel this affected Danny and what inspired you to show a change in him to focus on other priorities in his life?
Danny’s life before Unlicensed begins is really all about material things. He defines himself by what money he can make, what designer things he can have, and it doesn’t matter the cost. He starts breaking the rules to maintain the veneer of success but it eventually catches up with him and he loses everything. From the moment we meet him, he’s on a journey where he’ll have to let go of that old version of himself and realise the value of friendship, of family, of real work.
What do you hope audiences will take away from the film?
I want audiences to believe in second chances and that people can change. I want them to feel like they’ve been on the journey with Danny, and seen that with people who care around you, there’s nothing you can’t overcome. I also hope they feel like they’ve seen a great boxing movie.
Where can people watch Unlicensed and what’s next for you?
Unlicensed is now available in the UK and Ireland on
I’m working on release plans for Unlicensed in other territories and starting to think about my next film, which is a high-octane heist movie called Five Cars.
Interview with Alistair Train on short film – Pearls
Interview by Louise Cannon
Alistair Train is a film director who has created 7 films, some of which have qualified for major awards such a the BAFTA’s, more about that later. For those of you who remember The Bill on ITV/STV, for Pearls, he has a major cast member appear in it, find out more as to who, in the interview.
Pearls takes film fans into the life of a couple who’s desire it is to start a family. It doesn’t go as planned as things start to occur. It’s a film, in a short space of time, is thought-provoking and capture your attention in different ways.
In the interview we talk about the highly bold and relevant themes it carries, such as masculinity and not confronting issues, emotions surrounding fertility, achieving certain effects and flashbacks in the film, a prestigious cast member, awards, next project and more… You also get a peek behind the scenes in some of the official photos, passed to me by Tom Brumpton PR.
Let’s welcome Alastair Train to Bookmarks and Stages. Thank you very much for the opportunity to interview you.
1. You’ve now created 7 films, some of which have qualified for the likes of BAFTA, what or who inspired you to become a film-maker and what’s it like knowing that what you’re creating is of a high calibre to capture the attention of people who are part of prestigious awards?
I’ve always wanted to tell stories, but when I was younger, I wasn’t sure what the right medium was. That changed when I watched John Carpenter’s The Thing at probably too young an age. Seeing a film that visceral, with such a bleak tone – shocked me in a profound way. From then I knew that I wanted to make films that would create that same feeling in other people.
Knowing that some of my shorts have gone on to qualify for major awards is an amazing feeling. It validates that the films you’re making are sticking with people, and it’s a great motivator topush you forward onto the next project.
2. What was it like to direct someone as prestigious as Mark Wingett who is fondly remembered for The Bill amongst my generation and of course many other films?
It was such an honour to get the chance to work with Mark. He was so kind, generous, and brought something truly special to the role.
The best thing about working with actors like Mark is that they don’t just listen to your ideas – they provide their own. They know how to shape the character and give you what you’re looking for, but then take it a step further, bringing something new and unexpected. It’s amazing to collaborate with people like that.
3. The idea of Pearls was sparked by a strange encounter your brother had with an oyster. What was this encounter and how did this click for you, giving you the idea of this film?
The idea came from a rather disgusting oyster that my brother once ate. He described it to me as “thick and foamy”, which is not a particularly reassuring way to describe an oyster.
When I researched it, I found out that if an oyster is thick and foamy it means it’s fertile, and the foam that my brother ate was… well, best to leave that to the imagination.
The moment I had that horrific image in my head, I knew I had to find a way to include it in a film.
4. You explore toxic masculinity and the extremes people will go to in order to avoid confronting their problems. What inspired you to have this as a major theme and how important do you feel it is to have them depicted in modern day films?
I think it’s fair to say that most people go through life with some issues they’re not confronting, but what stuck out to me was how these issues are being used to sell products to you online. When I was researching oysters and their historical use as “aphrodisiacs”, I started to notice how the adverts on my feed changed – pills, creams, supplements, “are you losing your hair?”, “low testosterone?”, “do you have erectile dysfunction?”
You feel almost attacked by these products, and from a male perspective it’s clear these “cures” are marketed in a way that targets your masculinity. They give you the option to preserve your pride instead of doing the right thing – talking to a doctor, a therapist, your partner. That felt like a natural fit with the horrific oyster imagery I wanted to create.
I think that if you have a story that can naturally incorporate these issues into it, then you should go and make it, but it’s important that your film takes people on a journey and isn’t just about that one theme. I made Pearls because I wanted to make a body horror about oysters, and the themes fell into place. If you’re too obvious, it can undercut what you’re saying and start to feel preachy.
5. How did you, creating the film, and the actors, draw on the emotions needed to be authentic when the conversations in the film were about fertility issues?
The key was creating an open environment from the start. I was honest with Rory and Helen about the tone I wanted and why this story mattered to me. While fertility is the surface issue, Tony and Linda are really a couple who’ve lost the ability to be honest with each other – so the emotional core we needed to access was that sense of distance and unspoken resentment between two people who love each other but can’t communicate.
Having an intimacy coordinator was invaluable here. There’s a misconception that they only help with physical scenes, but what ours really did was create a safe space for Rory and Helen to inhabit this fractured relationship. That safety allowed them to go to vulnerable places without it feeling exploitative or overwhelming. When actors trust the process, authenticity follows.
6. What gave the inspiration for the flashback after tasting the oyster and how was that filmed to show all the images in the manner which they are?
That was one of my favourite sections to film. I knew while I was writing the script that I wanted to have a “vision” scene, and it was a lot of fun imagining how it could look. Visually, it was inspired by the body-switch scene from Brandon Cronenberg’s Possessor – it was so visceral and ethereal that I knew I wanted to create a similar sensation in Pearls.
We filmed most of that section using a special vintage lens from the Astro Berlin Pan-Tachar series that we nicknamed “oyster vision”. It helped us create that dreamy look I was hoping for, and we looked for as many opportunities as possible to use it.
A lot of credit has to go to my editor, Iñigo, who had to make sense of all that material – I think he made something truly memorable.
7. There are a few silent moments, what was your intention and what do you hope the audience draws from them?
I wanted to give the audience a chance to sit in silence with the characters’ decisions. It helps build the tension and gives people space to think about whether they’d do the same thing. Like in real life, people aren’t just walking around talking to themselves all the time – so to me those moments of silence make the characters more believable and easier for the audience to connect with.
I love it when you get to imagine what the characters are feeling rather than having them explain it, and when you’re working with actors like Rory, Helen and Mark, their faces can tell you so much without them saying a word.
8. What appealed to you to use the horror genre to convey the themes you do?
Body horror has always appealed to me because the best ones are cleverly disguised dramas, with horrific imagery that lets your audience not just see but also feel the transformation the characters go through. The audience isn’t being told something – they get to experience it.
9. How did you achieve the special effects when the film turns full horror?
From the start, I knew that I wanted the effects to be done practically – the challenge was figuring out how to make it happen. That was until my producer introduced me to our production designer, Olavo. He brought in an incredible SFX and prosthetics team who worked tirelessly to bring the transformations to life.
The attention to detail was amazing – they scanned real oysters and used them to create the flesh textures for the actors, and 3D-printed the giant shells. It was incredible to see it on set, and I hope that shows in the film.
10. Where can people watch the film and what’s your next project?
The film is on its festival run right now, so it won’t be publicly available for at least another year. However, you can catch it next at the Bay International Film Festival in early January 2026.
As for what’s next, I’m developing two feature films – My Life, about VR and escapism, and Coming Home, an action horror about a murderous cult in the English countryside – and another short ‘Let it grow’ about hypochondria.
Inteview with Off-Westend Mangaging Director – Denholm Spurr Celebrating 20 years of the Offies
Interview by Louise Cannon
I recently had the privilege to interview the Off-West-End Managing Director – Denholm Spurr, thanks to Gingerbread Agency. He is celebrating 20 years of this prestigious organisation, championing independent theatre on London’s Off-The-Westend stages. He has gone on from being an Executive Producer to Managing Director. He discusses grassroots theatre, award nominees and what it means to be nominated or win an award and the impact that may have, increasing accessibility and more… What emerged was some fascinating insights that the public do not see and may not be aware of and more… Please welcome Denholm Spurr to Bookmarks and Stages and discover our Q&A as you scroll down this page.
Denholm Spurr, as Off-West-End Executive Producer, what is it like to now be celebrating 20 years of the organisation, championing independent theatre in London’s Off-West-End scene?
It feels quite extraordinary, because very few grassroots cultural institutions survive this long, let alone stay relevant while the landscape around them keeps changing. OffWestEnd was founded in 2006 and set out to create a unified banner for the incredible independent theatre being made across London. Today, the phrase Off-West End is ubiquitous in describing our sector, and leading the organisation that helped define that is a huge honour.
And talking of survival, it’s also hugely significant for me personally. Ten years ago, I was only just emerging from years of homelessness. Going from street urchin to Managing Director is about as dramatic a glow-up as I could have imagined. I am deeply grateful to the people who believed in me when I had very little reason to believe in myself, but I am proud too. What I survived in my early twenties was brutal, and I could never have imagined that I would end up here: leading an organisation that has helped define the very sector in which I rebuilt my life.
What or who inspired you to take over OffWestEnd, an organisation you’ve been part of for at least 12 years now, and what have you brought to the role of Managing Director since Geoffrey Brown stepped down almost two years ago?
I was lucky enough to be selected for the Olivier Awards judging panel at a very young age, and that was one of the first times I really encountered the breadth of Off-West-End theatre properly. I served specifically on their Affiliate panel, covering some of our best-known venues, and I realised almost immediately that this was the theatre I loved most: up close, alive, risky, sometimes rough around the edges, but in the best possible way, and far less beholden to mainstream conventions.
Then there were the people. Sofie Mason, our founder, was a huge influence. She had that rare ability to make you fall in love with both her and her vision: to believe that a scrappy, under-resourced organisation could stand shoulder to shoulder with major arts institutions and still be worth fighting for. She also gave me opportunities to flex my own creative vision at a time when very few other gatekeepers were doing that — including trusting me to devise the world’s first cyber ceremony on Twitter in 2015. Geoffrey, in a different way, was equally inspiring through the sheer graft of what he built: developing the community, accessibility and scope of the organisation, often from his home office, for no pay, simply because he believed the sector deserved a champion. OffWestEnd has always relied on its leaders and core volunteers giving far more than they ever should have had to, frankly, because they believed independent theatre deserved better.
What I have wanted to bring to the role is a mix of lived experience and structural ambition. I spent more than a decade making theatre Off-West-End myself, so I know first-hand how broad, exciting and precarious this sector is. I did not want OffWestEnd just to be a yearly pat on the back. I wanted it to be more rigorous, more useful, more future-facing, and more honest about the fact that independent theatre does not need admiration alone. It needs infrastructure. And my geekier self came with a bunch of tech skills that made me feel I was the right person to lead the organisation through a serious phase of modernisation.
The goal is to honour the last twenty years and the people who gave so much to this organisation, while also being radical about what comes next: building something finally self-sustaining. A regular, reliable income stream would allow OffWestEnd to respond to the next twenty years in a way the last twenty rarely made possible. That is my vision for OffWestEnd 2.0, and I am excited by the progress we are already making.
This year’s nominees bring together emerging grassroots talent and well-known performers from stage and screen who consistently return to independent venues to create new work. There are a lot of shows to watch and choose from – how are nominees chosen as you increase fair recognition?
Rachael Bellis The Sea Horse by Edward J. Moore Golden Goose
One of the things I love about OffWestEnd and the Offies is that they practise a kind of open gatekeeping. It is one of the few parts of the industry where genuinely emerging artists and very established names can still meet on common ground, often in small rooms, taking real creative risks. That feels healthy to me. It is one ecology that is both grassroots and a destination in its own right. I often say Off-West End is not just a decorative fringe of the industry, but unique, purpose-made couture. The Offies ceremony is the sector’s annual catwalk to show that off.
As for how our recognition process actually works… well, it is a gargantuan undertaking, I can tell you. The Offies are one of a kind: a rigorous three-stage peer review in which the people making the decisions are not only of the community — industry professionals and experts in the field — but have all seen the work first-hand. Doing that at the scale we do, when the turnover of productions is so high and run lengths are so short, is nothing short of Herculean.
That said, there were some leaky pipes in the process when I took over. Early on, I spent months talking to venue leads, creatives, critics, assessors and others across the sector, because I did not want to redesign the model based purely on my own instincts. Two things came up again and again: too many categories, and a creeping sense that everyone seemed to be nominated. So the key challenge was to make the process broader in what it could see, but more exacting in what recognition actually meant. Because if recognition means everything, it starts to mean nothing.
So we rebuilt the framework. We moved away from a rigid category system into broader Areas, supported by specialisms — elevating artforms that are often marginalised, like theatre for young audiences and experimental work — and by stronger expert oversight, including the return and expansion of our critics’ panel of national theatre critics. We also carried out a diversity and equality overhaul of our large assessor cohort, making sure we had the broadest possible range of perspectives assessing work across the sector, so that work is not just watched, but properly understood in context.
The aim is not simply to spread recognition around like confetti. It is to make sure that when work is recognised, it feels fair, meaningful and genuinely valuable: the kind of recognition that can help sustain careers rather than just decorate a poster.
What is the overall impact for those involved in the industry to be nominated in an Area and, if lucky, win?
Megan Prescott – Really Good Exposure – Soho Theatre
The impact depends on where you are in your career, but it can be huge. For an emerging artist or company, recognition can be the difference between momentum and disappearance. It can change confidence, visibility and the seriousness with which people take your work at exactly the point where that work is still vulnerable, while significantly increasing chances of re-runs and transfers. For a venue, it drives audience awareness, helps demonstrate impact and reinforces that what they are platforming matters beyond the room. For more established artists, it is often about peer recognition in the part of the industry where the real risk is still being taken.
But I think the deeper point is this: by the time something is obviously a success, it often no longer needs the same kind of advocacy. The recent Olivier Awards were fabulous, and rightly back on prime-time television, but they are celebrating work that has already arrived. The Offies do something rarer and, I would argue, more vital: they recognise work while it is still building, still scrappy, still trying to find its audience. One of the things the Offies have done consistently is spot quality early, before consensus catches up, while also giving creatives in an often thankless profession a moment to feel genuinely valued and seen.
And that matters politically as much as culturally, because the ecology loop in this country is broken. We have far too few mechanisms that genuinely support grassroots theatre, sustain it over time, and feed value back into the part of the industry where so much of the risk, innovation and talent development actually happens. The Offies are one of the few structures doing that. So for me, they are not just an awards ceremony. They are part of the infrastructure trying to stop the grassroots being treated as unpaid research and development for the rest of the industry.
You have been working to raise the bar on nominations and increase ceremony accessibility. How have you achieved this?
Those two things are connected, actually. I have already touched on this above, but when I took over we were issuing roughly one nomination per show — around 500 a year. While that was, on one level, a great publicity tool for us, it was undermining our core purpose. If almost everyone is nominated, nomination stops carrying real weight. We have brought that right down to fewer than 200 this year, which means we now have much clearer and more universal standards for what nomination actually signifies.
Crucially, that also allowed us to get rid of the slightly confusing finalist stage, where nominees were later whittled down again simply because the ceremony could not accommodate them all. Instead, if you are nominated, that should mean something in and of itself — and it should mean you can actually be in the room at the end of the year. For me, that is both clearer and fairer. It raises the bar on recognition while also making the ceremony more accessible to the people whose work we are there to celebrate.
jamie-hale-transpose-pit-party-subverse-barbican
Increasing ceremony accessibility has been both practical and philosophical. Practical, in the sense that we have thought much more carefully about format, communication, reach and how the ceremony functions as a showcase for the sector. Philosophical, because I do not think the Offies should feel like a closed room full of insiders congratulating each other. It should feel like a genuine meritocracy, where being nominated is a win in and of itself.
This year’s ceremony was probably the clearest expression yet of where we want to go. Divina De Campo brought so much wit, warmth and proper occasion to the room, but what mattered most was that the ceremony felt expansive enough to reflect the breadth of the sector itself. We switched from nominee videos to winner videos so we could spend longer actually showing the work, we packed the night with live performance, and for the first time the full ceremony was broadcast live. That was a major step forward, because the future of the Offies cannot just belong to whoever happened to be in the room that night. It has to be about showing the sector off to the wider world, so people can see just how incredible and important it really is.
If you missed the ceremony, go and watch it on The Theatre Channel, then share it with your friends, colleagues and anyone who still underestimates what independent theatre is capable of. The more people who see us properly, the stronger our sector becomes.
You are trying to encourage risk, experimentation and innovation. What does it take to get this across to both the general public and those in the industry so it carries forward in people’s work, viewing habits and in the way the OFFIE Awards operates?
Rowan Armitt-Brewster – A Brief Case of Crazy – Riverside Studios
Part of it is language. We have to stop talking about independent theatre as though it is simply smaller, cheaper or somehow less finished than commercial work. Very often, it is where the most original thinking is happening. It is where new theatrical languages emerge before the rest of the industry has worked out how to package them, and shifting that mindset starts with the words we choose to describe it. It is easy to take the term for granted now, but Off-West End was barely used before our organisation was established twenty years ago. We have helped lead the charge in making sure independent theatre in this country is seen not just as patchwork fringe, but as a unified identity of exceptional work.
Part of it is model. If you want to encourage risk, you have to build systems that can actually recognise it. That is one reason breadth matters so much to the Offies. If your awards only reward the kinds of work that already resemble mainstream plays and musicals, then you are not encouraging innovation at all; you are rewarding proximity to existing power. Our new Innovation and Industry Areas are about responding to that, and the flexibility of the broader Areas allows us to recognise new artforms, new practices and new kinds of practitioners as soon as they emerge.
And part of it is culture. Audiences, critics and industry figures all have to get more comfortable with the idea that some of the most exciting work will be messy, hybrid, hard to categorise, and sometimes even unsuccessful. That is not a flaw in the ecology. That is how artforms move forward. OffWestEnd can absolutely be a pipeline to commercial success, but it is also a destination in its own right. For twenty years our slogan was “All Theatre Starts Here”, but as we mark this anniversary we have moved beyond that, because it does not just start here — it lives, breathes and thrives here. Our new slogan, “Let’s Show Off”, is about making sure people sit up and take notice.
What are the challenges of staying relevant and future-proofing the awards for both everyone within the industry and the general public?
Futures Theatre Argos Archives Omnibus
The biggest challenge is that you cannot future-proof an awards body just by making the ceremony shinier. Plenty of people can throw a glamorous night out. That is not the hard bit. The hard bit is making sure the structure still reflects the sector it claims to represent.
Independent theatre is changing all the time. Rising costs are changing what is viable. Audience habits are changing. Reaching people is getting harder. Certain forms are more vulnerable than others. So relevance comes from usefulness. Are we recognising the right work? Are we helping people understand why it matters? Are we building pathways rather than just moments? Are we creating visibility that lasts beyond a single press cycle?
That is really what OffWestEnd 2.0 means to me. It is not just a rebrand or a shinier website. It is shorthand for the next twenty years: taking an organisation that has already helped define and champion the sector, and building it into something more robust, more digitally effective and more infrastructural. I do not want OffWestEnd to be mistaken for an awards brand with a side hustle in advocacy. I want it understood as a representative body that uses awards as one of several tools to build leverage for the sector. That representative impulse has always been there at the heart of what we do, but for too long we lacked the financial stability to do it consistently, ambitiously or at the scale the sector deserves.
OffWestEnd 2.0 is about changing that. It is about harnessing data more intelligently, strengthening our platform, and earning a bigger seat at the table in conversations about theatre’s future, so that independent theatre is not merely celebrated once a year but properly advocated for all year round. If the last twenty years helped prove the value of this sector, the next twenty have to be about converting that value into visibility, leverage and long-term sustainability.
That also means being clear-eyed about technology. Automation and AI are going to reshape every part of cultural life, including ours. I do not think the answer is to pretend those tools are not coming, or to leave them entirely to the biggest institutions and commercial players to exploit first. We need to harness them conscientiously, in ways that create more public good: freeing up capacity, improving access, making our systems smarter, and helping a small organisation do more for the sector it serves. But we also have to stand up for the little guys, because if AI only ends up benefiting those already at the top, it will simply deepen the same inequalities independent theatre has always been fighting against.
And frankly, the stakes are bigger than an awards ceremony. If we get this right, OffWestEnd will not just keep pace with the next twenty years of change — it will help shape them. My ambition is simple: that the sector we have spent two decades defining becomes one we can finally sustain, strengthen and show off to the world with the confidence it deserves.
Cinematographer Daniel Everitt-Lock’s Debut Documentary Helps To Declassify Government Records Of British Nuclear Test Veterans
Our Planet, The People, My Blood Follows Alan Owen, The Descendent Of An Atomic Test Veteran, In His Fight For Justice And Recognition For Thousands Of Veterans And Their Families
London, X March 2026: An experienced cinematographer’s director debut has been part of a campaign to declassify government blood records of nuclear test veterans. Previously held under the highest levels of security clearance, those records are now being released to veterans’ families for the first time, with the full archive scheduled to be made publicly accessible through The National Archives later this year.
Our Planet, The People, My Blood directed by Daniel Everitt-Lock follows Alan Owen, co-founder of LABRATS International and former Chairman of the British Nuclear Test Veterans Association as he leads a landmark legal battle seeking recognition and compensation for the millions of people affected by nuclear weapons testing programs worldwide.
Three years in the making, Everitt-Lock and co-producer Rodrigo Borda travelled 150,000 kilometers across four continents to capture over 50 firsthand testimonies from Indigenous Marshallese communities (Marshall Islands), the Maralinga Tjarutja of Australia, the Spokane Nation of the United States and survivors of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Daniel Everitt-Lock, Director, says: “Nine years ago, I watched a short film about nuclear test veterans and couldn’t believe that no one was talking about it. I set out to make a documentary that offered a deeply human account of the communities forgotten by the governments that harmed them.”
Alan Owen, co-founder LABRATS International, comments:“This documentary shows the years of denial from one of the oldest establishments in the UK and across the world. The affected communities now have a voice through this incredible piece of work. My family’s story is just one of thousands which has been suppressed, it can now be heard.”
The film opens at the Prince Charles Cinema, Leicester Square, on 12th March 2026. Following the world premiere, the feature documentary will be screened in cinemas across the UK, including London, Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham and Brighton.
Everitt-Lock, adds: “I’m thrilled to share this story with the world as we continue to change the political agenda and fight for long-deserved justice for millions of victims and their families.”
To buy tickets for the world premiere in London, click here. Other screening dates and tickets across the UK can be found here.
Bookmarks and Stages by Lou 