Dick is a play designed to address all of these questions head on - it’s ugly in the most beautiful way. Written and directed by Newcastle alumni Adam Kinneen, his talent lies in writing about the unspeakable.That’s not all - producer Eloise McGeady, Sound Design and Technical Operator Polly Dacam, and actor Max Brennan also make up the honorary Geordies who have migrated down to London to battle life’s hardest questions.
The play does not take any shortcuts. As an audience, we are forced to confront each and every element of growing up, and Dick doesn't care if you don't want to. Five friends who almost exclusively gather for their birthdays. Five quarter-life crisis’ at the thought of being closer to 50 than 0.
The opening scene hits hard. It’s sharp, funny, and frequently crosses the line. Noah, brought to life by the effortlessly brilliant Joseph Lynch, owns the stage from the jump. Fueled by a rebellion against societal expectations, Noah delivers darkly humorous monologues about everything from the demonisation of hangovers to his obsession with his friends’ most outrageous sexual exploits. Lynch doesn’t play the character - he is the character. Totally unforgettable.
Frederick Russell’s Ruby is a haunting portrayal of how power, when misused - even unintentionally - can quietly unravel a friendship. Charismatic and full of romantic ideals, Ruby walks into his own undoing. Russell leans into the character’s downfall with devastating grace, delivering a performance that’s as raw as it is beautiful.
River, on the other hand, searches for escape in quieter, more elusive ways. Lonely, and untrusting of his newfound quiet nature, he carries a kind of quiet intensity that pulls you in. Max Brennan brings depth and subtlety to the role - layered, introspective, and impossible to ignore. There’s something about River that makes you want to lean in and figure him out.
Cleo stands apart from the rest - an outlier in the group with a quiet strength. As Ruby’s older sister, there’s a tenderness in their bond, but Cleo keeps most of herself tucked away, choosing silence over vulnerability - until she is forced to share her grief. Nina Fidderman brings a graceful charm to the role, making Cleo’s guarded nature feel all the more human.
In friendship, the only thing that's ever simple is the concept itself
Bailey rounds out the group as the fifth friend. Andi Bickers doesn’t play Bailey; they become them, channelling a raw, heartfelt love for the group that becomes the emotional pulse of the play. Every glance, every shift in tone adds to the whirlwind of feelings Bailey navigates. Through Bailey, we’re reminded that in friendship, the only thing that’s ever simple is the concept itself.
Just as the story picks up momentum, Act 2 slams on the brakes and flips everything on its head. Suddenly, you're sitting in stretched-out silences—five minutes that feel like forever yet no time at all —wrapped in a tension that’s raw and unsettling. It’s uncomfortable, and that’s the point. It hits with the weight of real life—messy, quiet, and brutally honest.
It gives space to the thoughts you're not supposed to say out loud, and dares to validate them
Dick doesn’t hand you answers - instead it gives you questions. The kind that linger, multiply, and quietly crawl under your skin. It taps into that restless curiosity that is intrinsic to growing up, where nothing feels certain and everything feels too real. It’s raw, it’s uncomfortable, and it doesn’t pretend otherwise.
But that’s the beauty of Dick - it gives space to the thoughts you’re not supposed to say out loud, and dares to validate them.