The Olive Boy At Southwark Playhouse Review
“This grief that I carry isn’t a burden… It’s the price for love. And it’s worth it.”
It’s tough being a teenager. Add to this the death of your mum, the reappearance of your absent father and a move to a new location. It’s no wonder you just want to get a girlfriend.
The play is based on writer and performer Ollie Maddigan’s real life. At 22, he brings a rawness that feels completely unfiltered. The premise alone is heavy: a teenager navigating the death of his mum, the sudden reappearance of an absent father, and a move to a new place. No wonder he clings to the simple hope of getting a girlfriend—something normal to hold onto when everything else feels unrecognisable.
The title comes from a nickname his mum gave him at birth, and the olive becomes a symbol for everything he’s trying to swallow: grief and growing up. Maddigan never suggests grief disappears; instead, he shows how it reshapes you, becoming part of who you’re still trying to become.
The show begins as a teenage comedy—awkward crushes, crude jokes, the familiar chaos of adolescence- so it took me around 20 minutes to settle in. But it gradually reveals itself as something far more layered and affecting. The writing is fast-paced and often funny, but always anchored in something real.
The home videos of his mum—played at the beginning and the end—caused a little tear in my eye. Maddigan himself wiped away a tear before speaking directly to the audience about the one thing everyone in the room shared: at some point, we will all experience grief. His reminder to tell the people we love that we love them felt painfully sincere.
Maddigan and director Scott Le Crass make the most of the space. Maddigan is constantly in motion—running, jumping, sprawling across the floor—capturing the restless energy of a boy who doesn’t know where to put his feelings. In the quieter moments, he holds the room just as effectively.
With only a single chair on stage, the lighting guides us through the shifts from humour to heartbreak and helps us feel the changes in his inner world. Sometimes he’s lit from behind so he becomes a silhouette, which really matches the moments where he feels lost or unsure how to express what he’s carrying. Then there are the bursts of brighter light in the more frantic teenage scenes, giving everything a jolt of energy.
We hear the recorded voice of his therapist (Ronni Ancona), never seen. That distance mirrors the awkwardness Maddigan felt in counselling and the wider silence around boys expressing grief. It’s a simple device, but it works.
At under 90 minutes, the piece never drags. It’s personal, darkly comic, and surprisingly hopeful. Maddigan wants the play to open conversations about grief rather than letting it sit unspoken. On my way out of the theatre, I heard one audience member say it was their third time seeing it and they notice something different each time. Depending on where you are in your own journey of loss and grief, I can understand that.
The Olive Boy is a coming-of-age story, but it’s also a reminder that grief isn’t linear, tidy, or something to “get over.” It’s something you learn to live with—and sometimes, as Maddigan shows, even laugh alongside.
Developed at the Camden Fringe in 2021, The Olive Boy went on to a sell-out run at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2022, followed by a short UK tour in 2024 that earned an Offie Award for Creation. This new season at Southwark Playhouse marks the production’s first dedicated London run.
The Olive Boy is performing 14-31 January 2026. Monday- Saturday at 7:30, and Tuesday and Saturday 30pm. Tickets from £22 (£18 concession).
Website: https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/the-olive-boy/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/swkplay
Written by Caitlin Neal
