Teeth ’N’ Smiles Review: A Band’s Slow Unraveling on Stage
Teeth ’N’ Smiles Review: A Band’s Slow Unraveling on Stage
David hare's rock drama returns with atmosphere to spare, but only intermittent sparks of intensity
David hare's rock drama returns with atmosphere to spare, but only intermittent sparks of intensity
★★★☆☆
★★★☆☆
There is something quietly disarming about encountering a play like Teeth 'N' Smiles for the first time, especially one that arrives with the weight of both history and celebration. Written by David Hare and first staged in 1975, this 50th-anniversary revival at Duke of York's Theatre feels less like a grand resurrection and more like the rediscovery of a relic—one that still glows faintly with the heat of its era, even if it no longer burns quite as fiercely.
There is something quietly disarming about encountering a play like Teeth 'N' Smiles for the first time, especially one that arrives with the weight of both history and celebration. Written by David Hare and first staged in 1975, this 50th-anniversary revival at Duke of York's Theatre feels less like a grand resurrection and more like the rediscovery of a relic—one that still glows faintly with the heat of its era, even if it no longer burns quite as fiercely.
Set over the course of a single chaotic evening in 1969, the play charts the internal disintegration of a struggling rock band, The Skins, led by the volatile and magnetic Maggie Frisby. It is, in many ways, a backstage drama soaked in booze, drugs, and bruised egos—a portrait of artistic collapse unfolding in real time. Watching it now, one cannot help but think of Stereophonic, David Adjmi’s more recent (and widely lauded) theatrical excavation of band dynamics, which coincidentally occupied this very theatre only months ago.
Set over the course of a single chaotic evening in 1969, the play charts the internal disintegration of a struggling rock band, The Skins, led by the volatile and magnetic Maggie Frisby. It is, in many ways, a backstage drama soaked in booze, drugs, and bruised egos—a portrait of artistic collapse unfolding in real time. Watching it now, one cannot help but think of Stereophonic, David Adjmi’s more recent (and widely lauded) theatrical excavation of band dynamics, which coincidentally occupied this very theatre only months ago.
The comparison is both illuminating and, perhaps unfairly, damning. Where Stereophonic meticulously builds tension through the painstaking process of creation, Teeth ’N’ Smiles drops us into the aftermath—the unraveling. Yet despite its temporal advantage (having been written much closer to the era it depicts), Hare’s play feels oddly less penetrating. The emotions are there, the dysfunction is vivid, but the writing rarely achieves the same cumulative force. One waits for the knockout punch that never quite lands.
The comparison is both illuminating and, perhaps unfairly, damning. Where Stereophonic meticulously builds tension through the painstaking process of creation, Teeth ’N’ Smiles drops us into the aftermath—the unraveling. Yet despite its temporal advantage (having been written much closer to the era it depicts), Hare’s play feels oddly less penetrating. The emotions are there, the dysfunction is vivid, but the writing rarely achieves the same cumulative force. One waits for the knockout punch that never quite lands.
That said, there is much to admire in the play’s texture. Hare has a sharp ear for the absurdities of backstage life, and moments of biting humor puncture the gloom with surprising regularity. The presence of drugs and alcohol is not merely atmospheric but catalytic, pushing already fragile relationships toward implosion. The result is a production that is frequently engaging, if not consistently gripping.
That said, there is much to admire in the play’s texture. Hare has a sharp ear for the absurdities of backstage life, and moments of biting humor puncture the gloom with surprising regularity. The presence of drugs and alcohol is not merely atmospheric but catalytic, pushing already fragile relationships toward implosion. The result is a production that is frequently engaging, if not consistently gripping.
What truly elevates this revival, however, is its music. Featuring original songs by Nick Bicât and Tony Bicât, alongside new contributions from Rebecca Lucy Taylor, the score pulses with a convincing late-’60s, early-’70s rock sensibility. These performances do more than complement the drama—they often surpass it. When the band plays, the production finds a clarity and energy that the dialogue sometimes lacks.
What truly elevates this revival, however, is its music. Featuring original songs by Nick Bicât and Tony Bicât, alongside new contributions from Rebecca Lucy Taylor, the score pulses with a convincing late-’60s, early-’70s rock sensibility. These performances do more than complement the drama—they often surpass it. When the band plays, the production finds a clarity and energy that the dialogue sometimes lacks.
At the center of it all is Taylor herself, better known in the music world as Self Esteem. Her Maggie Frisby is a study in emotional disintegration—raw, erratic, and deeply compelling. It is a performance that does not seek to make Maggie likable, but instead insists on her humanity, however fractured. Taylor captures the corrosive effects of addiction and pressure with unnerving precision, and her musical prowess only deepens the portrayal. Her voice, powerful and unguarded, becomes an extension of Maggie’s unraveling psyche.
At the center of it all is Taylor herself, better known in the music world as Self Esteem. Her Maggie Frisby is a study in emotional disintegration—raw, erratic, and deeply compelling. It is a performance that does not seek to make Maggie likable, but instead insists on her humanity, however fractured. Taylor captures the corrosive effects of addiction and pressure with unnerving precision, and her musical prowess only deepens the portrayal. Her voice, powerful and unguarded, becomes an extension of Maggie’s unraveling psyche.
Taylor’s recent theatrical resume—writing music for Prima Facie and stepping into the iconic role of Sally Bowles in Cabaret—suggests an artist increasingly at home on stage. Here, she confirms that promise. One leaves hoping this will not be a fleeting detour into theatre, but the beginning of a sustained presence.
Taylor’s recent theatrical resume—writing music for Prima Facie and stepping into the iconic role of Sally Bowles in Cabaret—suggests an artist increasingly at home on stage. Here, she confirms that promise. One leaves hoping this will not be a fleeting detour into theatre, but the beginning of a sustained presence.
Still, for all its strengths, Teeth ’N’ Smiles remains a curiosity rather than a revelation. It is enjoyable, intermittently gripping, and steeped in a kind of lived-in nostalgia—but it never quite achieves the seismic impact one might expect from a play of its reputation. Perhaps that is part of its charm. Not every rediscovered classic needs to feel like a masterpiece. Some, like this one, simply remind us of where we’ve been—and how far the form has come.
Still, for all its strengths, Teeth ’N’ Smiles remains a curiosity rather than a revelation. It is enjoyable, intermittently gripping, and steeped in a kind of lived-in nostalgia—but it never quite achieves the seismic impact one might expect from a play of its reputation. Perhaps that is part of its charm. Not every rediscovered classic needs to feel like a masterpiece. Some, like this one, simply remind us of where we’ve been—and how far the form has come.
In that sense, this revival doesn’t so much shake the walls as echo within them. And sometimes, that’s enough.
In that sense, this revival doesn’t so much shake the walls as echo within them. And sometimes, that’s enough.
Teeth 'N' Smiles - Duke of York's Theatre
Attended on 7 April 2026