Newcastle's Theatres - a personal tour

In which we go down memory lane

Hello! A bit of a bonus one this week, because I’ve had a raft of new followers off the back of a rec from Exeunt. Exeunt is the theatre reviewing site that I used to write for and which is now, after a hiatus, returning as a Substack and which I will hopefully be writing for again soon. (I can’t recommend enough that you follow it – it honestly has some of the best, most interesting and occasionally unhinged theatre writing you’ve ever read).

So, I thought instead of just doing my usual round up, I’d take the chance to introduce / reintroduce myself a little, and take you for a walk around my city and its abundance of lovely theatres.

[Image description: Newcastle at night, including the Millennium Bridge and the Glasshouse]

Welcome to Newcastle, folks. You don’t need a coat.

First: about me. I was born in Newcastle (well, strictly speaking, across the river in Gateshead), but I left when I went to uni and, a couple of shortish returns aside, never really came back until quite recently. I spent almost 30 years living in Glasgow, Sheffield, London and Brighton, before a mix of reasons (and a night at the theatre – no, really) lured me back just in time to enjoy Covid.

As a freelance writer, one of the things I was worried about before I came home was that it would pretty much be the end of my theatre writing. Because, a few new shows a year aside, what the hell was there to write about in a city as small as Newcastle? Well, I was to learn how wrong I was in pretty short order, discovering an arts, music and theatre scene that was vibrant, exciting and inclusive in a way I hadn’t seen before. So I kinda made it my mission to tell other people about it. Which, in this case, means you…

Newcastle: A guided tour

Let’s start at Haymarket Metro, shall we? Newcastle is a fairly small city, easy to walk around, and blessed with a Metro system that, while occasionally frustrating, means that almost everything is fairly easy and cheap to reach, from the coast – we’ll get to that later – to the nearest big city, Sunderland (ditto). The city centre has three main stops – Central Station (the train station), Monument (the heart of town), and Haymarket (um… at the other end of the main street, so actually still the heart of town. I told you it was small).

You get off at Haymarket and cross the road towards Newcastle University. The theatre that is now Northern Stage, nestled squarely in university grounds, used to be called Newcastle Playhouse, and – I think* – used to sit facing the main road (demolished to make way for university buildings).

Now, I went to an absolutely terrible school – in my decades’ long absence from the north, it was burned down and closed down, not necessarily in that order – but because I also went to school at a time when it was at least vaguely acknowledged that working class kids could like art, and even more outrageously, that that was a thing to be encouraged, we went on several theatre trips.

I remember these vaguely but fondly. There was a mildly inexplicable trend for ‘Geordie-fying’ Moliere plays at the time, retitling them as things like ‘The Geordie Gentleman’ and making them into broad comedies (when I studied French at university, and read Moliere as part of that, it took me a while to figure out why the plots were all so familiar). Though my most memorable class trip was when what we all thought was an impressive practical effect turned out to be an actual fire and everyone had to be evacuated – possibly setting my standards for theatrical excitement overly high.

But it was also where I saw work that really formed me and my love of the artform. It was the first time I saw a penis on stage, for one (possibly the first time – or close to – that I’d seen one in real life, if I think about it). A play by a gay man’s theatre group about Aids staged in the theatre’s tiny studio space. At the time – at the height of both the Aids crisis and the noxious atmosphere of Section 28 – this felt both impossibly brave and important, and though I can’t remember a single thing except that moment of nudity, I still remember how it felt. How vulnerable it was, how exposing – it wasn’t a sexy scene. How I realised, in that instant, that nudity on stage can simply be another storytelling tool, that it can be powerful, it doesn’t need to be titillating or salacious. (Though I have no problem with that either, done well, but it would take me a few more years and a lot of shows to get the experience to realise that).

So it’s perhaps fitting that my theatre journey started with Northern Stage, when it’s also what brought me back to Newcastle. A trip from Brighton to review then-AD Lorne Campbell’s version of the Sting musical The Last Ship made me realise that there was northern work being made for northern audiences, and reminded me of the pleasures of sitting watching a show in a space where I didn’t feel like a loud, tacky outsider in some crowd of judgmental poshos.

[Image description: the illuminated Lovely sign in Northern Stage’s bar]

I moved back several months later, and since then have become a regular at Northern Stage (the building now helmed by Natalie Ibu), enjoying its variety packed calendar of touring shows and original productions.

But let’s leave Northern Stage for now, and take a wander down Newcastle’s main shopping thoroughfare, Northumberland Street. (Alright, alright, we can have a browse in Fenwick’s first. Yes, we can stop for a fancy cocktail). In fact, let’s cut through the city’s flagship store, and come out onto the other side, which takes us to Grey’s Monument, after which the Metro Station is named.

We walk down Grey Street, surrounded by the elegant Georgian and Victorian buildings that the city has now rebranded as Grainger Town (named after the developer) and we find the magnificent building that is the Theatre Royal, Newcastle’s oldest (and fanciest) theatre.

Now, as the ‘terrible school’ comment may have clued you in, I didn’t grow up with money, so outside those few school trips, theatre wasn’t something my family did. (Hell, we didn’t even go to panto!). But once I hit my teens, the theatre bug had hit me, and Newcastle wasn’t a bad city to be in when it did.

For one, the Theatre Royal used to have an arrangement with the RSC where touring productions came here, one of the few cities they visited at the time. I saw Derek Jacobi’s Richard III here – in seats with such a restricted view I couldn’t see his head for most of it. I saw Mark Rylance do Hamlet in his pyjamas. Ian McKellan in his Third Reich Richard III before they made it into a movie (what can I say, it’s one of my favourite plays), when the people sitting next to me walked out in the first five minutes, huffing that they hadn’t come to see ‘Hitler Youth Shakespeare.’

I admit that on my return I was less taken with it than in my youth. I initially found it stuffy and expensive, it’s ‘bag searches on the door and you can’t get in without a ticket’ approach impossibly unwelcoming after the informality of the city’s other theatres. But I have since warmed back up to it.

In part this is due to the theatre itself seeming to take active strides to make itself more inclusive, to cater not just to wealthier patrons wanting to see the latest Opera North production or some big touring musical, but to more of the city’s diverse audience (reopening its studio space, moving into co-producing, including recent crowd-pleaser Gerry & Sewell – more on that later - and see the photo below!).

In part because I’ve had enough conversations with the (very nice) people who work there to realise what a tough job it is to balance that desired inclusiveness with the building’s risk profile and the demands of being such a large public space. (Plus, it remains an absolutely beautiful theatre, and we’re blessed as a city to have it).

[Image description: Newcastle Brown Ale drinks, at the Gerry & Sewell press night at the Theatre Royal]

Let’s leave the city centre now, then. If Grainger Town recalls Glasgow, with its elegant architecture of the industrial age, then as you head down towards the quayside, it feels a lot more like Edinburgh. Not least because it’s steep AF and there are lots of little flights of stone stairs everywhere (don’t go down the Long Stairs unless you’re feeling fit, because trust me, the name Does Not Lie).

Pause for a moment to enjoy the view, because God, my city likes bridges, and we do them exceptionally well. Walking down Dean Street from the Theatre Royal lands you at the foot of one of the most recognisable, the Tyne Bridge.

[Image description: The Tyne Bridge at night]

The magnificent glass structure – once the Sage (always the Sage), now the Glasshouse International Centre for Music sits on the Gateshead side of the river, reflecting the city’s lights. It’s a world class venue that hosts classical and popular music events and also where I once sat through an entire Rufus Wainwright concert despite having broken my arm on the way there – weeping with pain the whole time, wrist wrapped in an iced tea towel the worried staff had given me, after urging me to go to the hospital  – because, hey, I’d already bought the tickets.

Walk along the river towards the old Baltic Flour Mill – now an impressive gallery – and the illuminated ‘winking’ Millennium Bridge. Turn a corner and you will find Live Theatre, another of the city’s treasures.

Now, weirdly, I know I went to Live a fair amount in my youth, but I honestly can’t remember a single visit, except that one time I saw local band Martin Stephenson and the Daintees perform there (another full circle – last Christmas I went to see them at the Glasshouse, and was vaguely horrified to discover that, like me, they were now all middle aged. The betrayal!).

But since my return I have been a regular at this vibrant little theatre. Staging its own impressive roster of new productions (including co-productions – it recently premiered The Bounds, which then went to the Royal Court in London), it also hosts touring shows and, over the last few years, has given second life to plays that started in the region’s smaller theatres. (Including Gerry & Sewell, which transferred from fringe theatre Laurels to here before it hit the Theatre Royal, and this year’s Christmas show, Present, which premiered at Alphabetti.)

And, oh yes, Alphabetti. We have to walk up that bastard hill to get there – I told you Newcastle has that Edinburgh steepness going on – but if we head back towards Central Station, past the Centre for Life, and, yes, up another (albeit less steep) hill** to what I believe was an old rubber factory, and you find the shabby chic delight that is Alphabetti.  

Only being a decade or so old, this theatre was completely new to me when I moved back. I interviewed founder (and AD at the time) Ali Pritchard for The Stage, and fast discovered what an important – disproportionately so, for such a small venue – impact the theatre has on the city’s arts and writing scene. This tiny venue (which won The Stage Fringe Theatre of the Year Award) has established itself as a cauldron of creativity and opportunity, and a launchpad for many of the region’s artists to go onto bigger things. Plus, it has a great (and cheap!) bar, a cool vibe, and occasionally a theatre dog (Rex! I love you!)

Five minutes away from Alphabetti but at the other end of the vintage scale is the Tyne Theatre and Opera House, which is clocking in at 150 years old and still going strong. Its line up is heavy on the variety side, including a lot of comedy, and it also hosts what has now become my annual treat, the delightful Tim Benzie’s Solve-along-a-Murder-She-Wrote.

And the thing is: that’s not even all of it. It’s not even all of the venues in Newcastle – I’ve seen puppet shows at Dance City, Dickens adaptations in listed buildings, even in the Castle itself. I’ve gone to the sorta-suburbs and enjoyed quality amateur theatre in the gorgeous People’s Theatre. There’s probably more I’ve forgotten, or even don’t yet know about. (Btw, if this has given you the idea you want to explore these venues more, the city’s 24 Doors of Christmas offers tours of some of these spaces in December.)

And it certainly isn’t all of the venues in the region.

Get on a Metro to Whitley Bay and you can visit one of the region’s newest venues, the lovely Laurels, which is where Gerry & Sewell started life, and which hosts a bold line up of new writing. (For more traditional fare, wander down the road and try the Whitley Bay Playhouse). Make sure you take the time to walk down to the seafront, though. You think we’re blessed with theatres? You should see our coastline.

Get a Metro in a different direction and go to The Customs House in South Shields, a hybrid arts venue which hosts a popular annual panto and regularly stages new writing by local artists. (With the added bonus of being an absolutely beautiful building, smack by the water.)

Get on the Metro again and you’re in Sunderland. Navigate the architectural hellscape that is the city centre at the moment (seriously: WHEN are those works gonna finish?) and find its cultural quarter and you have a choice of venues. The ATG-run Sunderland Empire for your big touring shows, fantastic new(ish) venue The Fire Station for music (and occasional theatre) and pub theatre The Peacock, which in a major coup was only one of a handful of venues that got to stage the Roddy Doyle play Two Pints.

Sunderland often gets overlooked by the Newcastle-Gatesheadness of it all, but actually has some great arts venues, which have hosted everything from Grayson Perry to the Field for the British Isles to the Da Vinci sketches, and usually at a price that wouldn’t buy you a coffee in London. It’s well worth a visit.

So, have I sold it to you yet? My beautiful city? My amazing region? The wealth of talent and great venues you can find here? Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. But I plan to keep trying…

So stay tuned.

[Image description: me at that other mildly famous Newcastle venue, St James Park. I am in an NUFC branded dressing room, a dark haired woman - I used to be a brunette! - smiling while holding an NUFC strip labelled ‘Shearer’]

*Important disclaimer: I am a deeply unreliable narrator when it comes to my own past, and therefore also my city’s. It’s a terrible trait for a writer, but most of my childhood / teens / earlier 20s -and, um 30s is a blur. (Also: I was a teen in a working-class Northern town – there was a lot of cheap alcohol involved, so there’s also that). So did I actually see Mark Rylance take his PJs off and show off his arse while doing Hamlet? I think I did. Did Northern Stage and Live used to be in different buildings? I think so. Would you want to stake your life on taking my word for it? You absolutely would not.

**Fun fact: I once tweeted about running up the hill to Alphabetti from the station and a man – OFC a man – pointedly replied that it wasn’t in fact a hill, but barely an incline. Which is me told.

Anyway, thanks again for reading – please do share with your friends! Every new subscriber really does give me a boost. And remember if you want to support my writing but a paid subscription isn’t for you (times are hard, I get it!), you can buy me a one-off Ko-fi or buy one of my books. (This one is even set in Newcastle, if I have whetted your appetite for that).

Remember: everything included is my personal preference / opinion, and while I strive to be accurate, I always advising checking with the relevant venue.