Theatre

SOLO – Voila! Theatre Festival / Barons Court Theatre, London

Duccio Baldasseroni invites us right into the psyche of a “professional actor and writer” in SOLO.

SOLO

SOLO is a somewhat idiosyncratic piece, but I found myself drawn to it. On now at the Barons Court Theatre as part of Voila! Theatre Festival, it sits in a space between theatre and exercise, where the performer seems to test the limits of his own emotional range. That acting workshop quality becomes part of its tension, as writer and actor Duccio Baldasseroni keeps the material rooted in emotional vulnerability and isolation. Character development is not quite the point: what we witness instead is a mind circling itself, unable to let go of a version of success, and self, hinging on external validation.

Frank Green, the central figure, tells us he is a professional actor and writer. Whether he is convincing himself or us hardly matters, because the identity has become his only anchor. Baldasseroni plays him as someone gripping tightly to the title of โ€œartistโ€ even as his sense of self begins to fragment under pressure. The other characters he slips into feel like reflections of the same crisis. A mother rejected by a son who no longer needs her. A fading TV host terrified that the younger, glossier crowd will finally edge him out. Each voice is another mask worn to cover a growing void. Then comes the literal mask comes, as Frank inhabits the role of a god: a golden ray of light. The god of fame? Success? Something else?

Itโ€™s no surprise SOLO was written during the pandemic. It carries that frenetic energy I remember, the sense of wrestling with yourself once the trappings of normal life fell away. What we are left to decide is whether the piece seeks resolution or simply offers a window into obsession. The recurring masks and costumes suggest somewhere between the two: an invitation to stare at the faรงade, then push past it into something more raw. Despite the darkness, humour breaks through often, delivered with sharp timing and a skilled physicality (movement direction by Elena Zucker).


An Extremely Compelling Discomfort

What gives SOLO its staying power is the commitment Baldasseroni brings to it. His performance is controlled even when it feels chaotic. He flicks between characters with precision and makes silence as expressive as speech. The result is a work that is both intimate and unsettling. You feel pulled into the inner monologue of someone who canโ€™t decide if they are performing or confessing.

The playโ€™s preoccupation with identity resonates strongly, especially for anyone who has felt the whisper of imposter syndrome in their own life. Frankโ€™s obsession with success, his fixation on getting ‘the call’, the imagined breakthroughs, mirrors our cultureโ€™s relentless and empty focus on comparison. SOLO shows how that pressure can distort a personโ€™s sense of worth, particularly when paired with isolation. The piece doesnโ€™t moralise about mental health, but it does make the struggle visible. We watch a man who desperately wants to hold himself together while every thought chips away at the integrity of his identity.

There are moments when SOLO threatens to collapse into repetition, but Adam Martin’s direction and Baldasseroniโ€™s humour keeps the performance buoyant. Is there a resolution? Not quite. SOLO doesnโ€™t tie its ideas into a neat bow. Instead, it offers a portrait of someone caught between ambition and despair, masks and truth. For many of us (anyone who has measured their worth against others or questioned the path theyโ€™re on) that portrait hits close to home. Baldasseroni manages to make that discomfort extremely compelling.



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