Review: BATS main show, Kodachrome

Warning: Potential spoilers.

Where to begin? Kodachrome by Adam Szymkowicz, performed at Queens’ College is one of those shows that manages to sneak up on you. Though, to be fair, during the first 30 minutes the only thing sneaking up on me was hypothermia. Being marched around Queens’ at 8pm in November is not for the faint-hearted. My initial scepticism about the whole “moving through Queens’” concept was fairly high, somewhere between “why?” and “I am going to lose a toe”, but I quickly realised quite how ingenious it was.

So: 7:30pm, bitterly cold, and Harriet Crust and I trundled over to Queens’ from Kings for this term’s BATS production. I was excited—mainly because I get to review so little theatre in Cambridge, and partially because doing anything that isn’t an essay in Week 7 qualifies as a treat.

Pictured: Some rather chilly audience members.

We were greeted by a wonderful and very smiley stewardess named Eve, who was both charming and impressively unflustered given the temperature, and she led us to our starting location: Queens’ Chapel.

Now, I had never been to Queens’ Chapel before (it has not yet featured in my evensong tour), so seeing it for the first time was a delight. Bar my own chapel, it might be one of the prettiest in Cambridge. Ornate, gleaming, and very atmospheric, starting there felt like a promise that something special was coming.

Most Read

Three couples were together at MAFS UK 2025 reunion, but their statuses are very different now

‘It was love’: Reiss admits he got back with his ex after split from MAFS UK bride Leisha

Woman kicked out Burna Boy concert for falling asleep reveals sad reason she was so tired

The opening moments were a little confusing, with the cast sitting around chatting before the show officially began. Harriet and I exchanged the classic “wait—has it started?” look. Even if this was unintentional, it cleverly set the cosy, intimate tone of the play, blurring the line between performer and character from the outset.

The play began with a beautiful monologue by the incomparable Betty Blythe. I last saw her as Sir Toby in Twelfth Night last year, when I singled her out as one of the standout performances, and nothing has changed. This woman is going places. Her stage presence is magnetic, and as “the photographer”, she became the emotional backbone of the entire production. The rest of the cast were brilliant, but the show simply wouldn’t have cohered as powerfully without her.

We left the chapel sooner than expected and were whisked around Queens’ on a kind of emotional obstacle course. At points, I was slightly lost, not because of the acting but because of the cold-induced loss of brain function. In hindsight, this actually served the production well. When we finally arrived in the warm glow of Fitzpatrick Hall, it felt as though we had genuinely travelled alongside these characters. You emerged not just as an audience member but as a fellow sojourner in their heartbreaks and hopes.

When the disco ball descended and Lorcan McGeough and Isobel McNerney began to dance, the entire room seemed to swoon. It was one of those rare theatrical tableaux you want to cling to, knowing full well you can’t. Their chemistry, their evident hesitation, their longing: it was astonishingly touching. A standout performance from both actors, and without question, my favourite scene of the entire show. For a few minutes, it felt as though the production had carved out a pocket of time where nothing existed except the fragile possibility of choosing happiness.

By the time Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide drifted through the closing moments of the first half, my pre-show joviality had been thoroughly dismantled. Misty eyes all around. I’d go back to rewatch that final scene of the first half alone. It was one of those rare theatrical moments that remind you, inconveniently and with great emotional force, that life is fleeting and fragile and far too precious to treat carelessly. Cambridge can be overwhelming; this scene felt like being gently—and then not so gently—told to appreciate it whilst it’s here.

To Director Imogen Carter and Assistant Director Ella Thornburn: that moment was truly beautiful, hats off to you.

The second half maintained the standard: tight pacing, a criminally good playlist, and several more emotional gut-punches. By the end, Harriet and I had abandoned any pretence of dignity regarding whether we were crying and simply held hands as the final scenes unfolded.

Overall, I could not recommend this show more highly. If this term has wrung you dry (and whose hasn’t?) Kodachrome is the reminder you need about what actually matters. What a cast. What a production team. What a show.

5/5

(All images of the show credited to Imogen Carter)