Hold The Line

Hold the Line' is a new comedy-drama inspired by the true stories of writer and actor Sam Macgregor, who has been working in a NHS 111 call centre for the last 5 years. The play centres on Gary. a health adviser who faces the shift from hell when a patient unexpectedly dies during a routine assessment over the phone. Who's to blame, what consequences will there be?

Directed by Laura Killeen, this production is an undeniable showcase of confident, clear-sighted direction. From the moment the lights go up, you get the sense that Killeen knew exactly what she wanted to say—and how she wanted to say it. The staging is purposeful, transitions are slick, and there's a strong emotional arc driving the whole piece. It’s one of those rare shows where you can feel the director’s fingerprints in the best possible way: guiding, never overwhelming.

That said, there was one moment that veered a little off-course. Midway through, we’re treated to a surreal dance sequence involving red telephones. Yes, red telephones. It’s a bold creative choice—I'll give them that—but unfortunately, it didn’t quite land. It felt like a conceptual detour in an otherwise grounded piece. I can appreciate the ambition behind it (perhaps a metaphor for missed connections or the emotional chaos of communication?), but the execution left me more puzzled than moved. Still, points for daring to take risks—I'd always rather see theatre reach too far than not reach at all.

Thankfully, the show finds its footing again quickly, largely thanks to Sam, who holds everything together with a performance that’s both grounded and emotionally resonant. His portrayal of a man revisiting some of the most heartbreaking calls of his life is quietly devastating. There’s a rawness to his performance that never tips into melodrama, and you could feel the room holding its breath during certain moments. He carries the weight of the narrative with incredible poise and presence.

And let’s talk about the script—because honestly, it deserves its own round of applause. The writing is sharp, affecting, and beautifully paced. It manages that tricky balance between urgency and reflection, never dragging, never rushing. Every scene flows naturally into the next, and the dialogue feels authentic—full of humanity without trying too hard to be "real." It's one of those rare pieces where you genuinely forget you're watching actors delivering lines, because it all just feels lived in.

A standout in the cast is Gabriela Chanova, who multi-roles her way through the show with jaw-dropping ease. One moment she’s embodying a frightened teenager, the next a grieving son, and somehow she makes each switch feel completely seamless. It’s a performance full of range, subtlety, and impeccable timing. The chemistry between her and Sam is also a real highlight—they bounce off each other with warmth and tension in all the right places. It’s a true example of two actors elevating each other’s performances.

On the technical side, the lighting and sound design are smartly understated. They never steal focus but add meaningful texture to the piece. Even moments of barely-there background noise are used to enhance mood and setting. It’s the kind of technical design that works because you barely notice it—it just supports everything so organically.

In Summary this is a compelling, emotionally charged production that speaks to the power of memory, communication, and human connection. Laura Killeen’s direction is bold and nuanced, the performances are top-tier, and the writing is genuinely exceptional. Yes, there’s one odd misstep with the red telephone ballet—but even that feels like the result of a team unafraid to take creative swings. And in the end, it's those risks—whether or not they all succeed—that make this show feel alive. Definitely worth seeing.