Born with Teeth

by Liz Duffy Adams

seen at Wyndham's Theatre on 15 October 2025

Daniel Evans directs Ncuti Gatwa as Kit (Christopher Marlowe) and Edward Bluemel as Will (William Shakespeare) in Liz Duffy Adams's sharply observed two-hander imagining that the playwrights collaborated (somewhat uneasily) on the three Henry VI plays commonly attributed to Shakespeare.

The question of multiple authorship, or co-authorship, particularly of these early plays in the canon, has been discussed for a long time, initially based on anecdote and intuition, and more recently bolstered by increasingly sophisticated tools of textual analysis. The programme notes include an article explaining how in 2016 the editors of the New Oxford Shakespeare came to include Marlowe as a contributing author to these three plays, and how this in turn inspired Liz Duffy Adams to write her play.

After an explosive assault on our eyes and ears with flashing lights and electronic noise (repeated at each break to show the passage of a year: 1591, 1592, and then the fateful day of Marlowe's death, 30 May 1593) we are presented with a bare room the walls of which are banked with lights. There is a large writing table. Here the two playwrights meet, Will initially star-struck and unsure, Kit swaggering and flirtatious, but also keen to involve the naif Will in his world of spies, all under the guise of providing an impecunious young man with the security of powerful patronage. Will, more strait-laced, demurs, irritating the mercurial Kit with his high-mindedness. Subtle jokes abound relating to half-thought-out echoes of what will become famous phrases, while Will at least twice reminds the patronising Kit that they are the same age: he is not just a boy to Kit's worldly-wise man.

The two characters are obviously chalk and cheese, yet there is an undeniable spark between them, giving rise to passionate speeches about life, love and art, and resulting in a curiously effective collaboration in place of a rivalry which could have ruined the whole project. Will gains in confidence as Kit recognises his skill and growing power as a playwright: there are fascinating scenes in which they critique each other's work by interleaving their contributions to the work in progress.

Both actors are masters of their parts, Gatwa supremely confident in his tight-fitting leathers, commanding the stage with grandiose movements and campily brandishing a ridiculously long quill pen, but vulnerable when genuine feelings catch him unawares, and Bluemel initially diffident in less flashy attire, but with an almost boyish allure in a floppy shirt. (Costumes and set are skilfully designed by Joanna Scotcher.) Will's unease never entirely leaves him: he is constantly adjusting his trousers to fit neatly at this waist, as if unsure that his clothes really fit him. Small details such as these enliven stunningly engaging performances from both men in a play that fizzes with energy and an infectious love of the theatre. 

The audience's enthusiasm was fully justified.