THE UNFRIEND

By Diana Simmonds

October 4 2026

THE UNFRIEND, Roslyn Packer Theatre, 29 September - 31 October 2026. Photography by Prudence Upton

Theatre genres are fairly predictable in their fashionable popularity. The most enduring are – in roughly socially acceptable order – the ancient Greeks, Shakespeare, the Russians, Indigenous angry/tragic/musical; non-Indigenous Australian (new), non-Indigenous Australian (not so new); coming of age and coming out (straight and otherwise); foreign, preferably English or American; and finally: comedy.

The thing about comedy is, as Edmund Kean (1787-1833) may or may not have said on his deathbed, “Dying is easy, comedy is hard.” And that’s a serious truth. Writing comedy is difficult, really difficult; directing comedy is the hardest of all. And playing comedy is even more so. Not least because a fabulous comedy performance looks easy, and almost no one understands the technical skills and sheer brilliance required to make it look effortless. Just ask Helen Thomson.

As the house guest who outstays her reluctant welcome, Thomson, as resident of Denver, Colorado, Elsa Jean Krakowski, is a mesmerising presence. Having met middle-class Brits Debbie and Peter (Alex Lee and Tim Walter) on a cruise, Elsa inveigles her way into their suburban London home (wonderful set by Isabel Hudson, lit by Nick Schlieper). A bit late in the day, Debbie’s Googling of their somewhat weird and pushy new friend has revealed that she’s actually a serial killer of husbands and members of her family.

And don’t say “Pshaw, a likely story,” because that bit is actually true. It did happen to friends of playwright Steven Moffat. He borrowed it, with permission, and imagined the rest. Soon they’re like two hypnotised chooks, except they’re paralysed by politeness rather than a line in the dirt. To make it worse, their typically awful teenagers, Alex and Rosie (Ty Arnott and Brooklyn Davies) turn, under Elsa’s influence, into unnervingly loving and delightful humans. They hug their parents, Rosie buys flowers to brighten the living room; Alex goes jogging, abandoning his video game console.

While Debbie and Peter struggle to find an acceptable way to ask Elsa to leave, there are other quandaries. Their next-door neighbour (Huw Higginson) is not only the most boring man in the world, but also has issues with a party wall. Elsa observes that he “is a little bit passive-aggressive, aren’t you?” And resolves to sort it. Meanwhile, Rosie’s pass-agg eavesdropping and sulking have driven her mother to screaming pitch, while, before taking up exercise, Alex’s passive-aggressive farting has done the same to his father.

So Elsa is perhaps their greatest quandary. “Give it a year, and we’ll be voting for her,” says Peter. And, as Debbie shrieks in despair, “She’s the killer who came to stay, and every day she’s improving our lives.” Even the policeman (Ben Wood) who arrives to investigate something is charmed, although he does have to retire to the downstairs loo after eating a sandwich made by Elsa.

You might have worked out by now that The Unfriend is that unique beast, an English farce. Think all of Alan Ayckbourn, or Noises Off, or Are You Being Served?, Brian Rix’s Whitehall Farces, The Importance of Being Earnest. And Dario Fo and Molière’s bonkers foreign side-splitters such as Can’t Pay Won’t Pay and Tartuffe. Then there’s the “blue” and vulgar elements: Frankie Howerd, Benny Hill, the Carry-Ons, and on and on.

And, of course, there are lashings of blue and vulgar in The Unfriend. It’s a mostly very clever scatty and scatological two hours. Steven Moffat is not Michael Frayn, but he’s aiming for the stars and the gutter simultaneously and hits the bullseye more often than not. That success is largely because of this brilliant cast, none of whom put an exquisitely-timed foot wrong. With voice coach Charmian Gradwell assisting the invisibles of apparently effortless accents, and led by maestro Simon Phillips, The Unfriend is an all-too-brief relief from the everyday of 2026. Recommended without reservation.