Dogs on the Metro at Live Theatre, Newcastle Review

Reviews

7 May

Written by Stacy for Theatre and Tonic

Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review

There’s a rare thrill in witnessing the arrival of a new play that already feels like a modern classic. Dogs on the Metro, written by Emilie Robson, is that play. Winner of the inaugural North East Playwriting Award, this gripping, tender, and beautifully rendered two-hander is a triumph for the region’s theatrical voice, and Live Theatre in Newcastle is the perfect home for its world premiere.

Directed with a lyrical, instinctive touch by Maria Crocker, Dogs on the Metro charts the story of Jen and Dean—two friends who ride the Metro as they’ve always done. But this journey, unlike the many before it, becomes a portal through time: a ride through shared memories, buried truths, and the kind of emotional terrain that only long-standing friendship can navigate.

Sarah Balfour, as Jen, gives a raw and utterly captivating performance. She balances sharp Geordie wit with heartbreaking vulnerability, crafting a character who is both fiercely guarded and deeply wounded. Balfour’s timing is impeccable—her comic delivery lands with precision, but it’s her stillness, those moments of silence when words won’t come, that truly take your breath away. Her Jen is all edges and empathy, layered with the unspoken weight of things left unsaid.

Opposite her, Dean Logan is quietly devastating as Dean, the more reserved of the two. Logan’s performance is a masterclass in restraint—his every hesitation, sideways glance, and forced smile speaks volumes. There’s a deep ache beneath his calm exterior, and as his defences begin to falter, the emotional truth of his character is laid bare with heartbreaking sincerity. Together, Logan and Balfour share an extraordinary rapport—natural, lived-in, and crackling with unspoken history. Their chemistry anchors the play, making even the smallest exchanges feel charged with meaning, and lending a quiet power to every shared silence.

Maria Crocker’s direction is fluid, intuitive, and full of heart. She handles the time shifts—moving seamlessly between present-day reflections and youthful snapshots—with grace and clarity, never losing the thread of the story’s emotional core. The production never overplays its hand; Crocker allows the text and performances to breathe, trusting the audience to follow the rhythms of memory and loss.

Designer Amy Watt's provides a simple but evocative set: a suggestion of a Metro carriage, its minimalism leaving space for the imagination to do its work. Subtle lighting changes signal shifts in time and mood, while Matthew Tuckey's sound design layers in the rattle of tracks, distant platform announcements, and the low hum of nostalgia to powerful effect.

But it’s Robson’s script that shines brightest—full of humour, sharp observation, and emotional insight. Her dialogue is authentic and alive, deeply rooted in the rhythms of the North East without ever lapsing into caricature. She captures the way real people talk, remember, and hurt. The story unfolds like a train gaining speed—gentle at first, almost playful, then suddenly barreling toward an emotional reckoning you never saw coming.

What makes Dogs on the Metro especially brave and necessary is its unflinching exploration of sexual consent. Without ever feeling didactic or forced, Robson sensitively reveals how memory and perspective can collide, how unspoken assumptions can haunt even the closest relationships. It's a quietly courageous narrative choice, handled with such compassion and clarity that it lingers long after the final scene. In doing so, the play invites reflection without judgment—offering no easy answers, only honest questions.

Dogs on the Metro is a stunning debut: funny, heartfelt, and unflinchingly honest. It’s a story about growing up, looking back, and the strange and ugly beauty of friendships that never quite turn into anything else—and how, sometimes, that’s what makes them so preciously raw.

This production is a testament to what happens when powerful new writing is matched with pitch-perfect direction and deeply human performances. Dogs on the Metro doesn’t just stay with you—it quietly settles in, asking you to reconsider what you thought you understood about memory, regret, and the weight of silence. Get yourself a ticket before the train leaves the station.