Born With Teeth at Wyndham’s Theatre sinks its fangs straight into you from the very first moment. The whole proscenium is swallowed up by a giant projection screen, buzzing with static like an old TV, until it suddenly cracks open and we see Shakespeare and Marlowe, hanging upside down in manacles, screaming. Shakespeare then comes out and tells us that never happened, setting the tone for a play that’s going to twist truth and invention, history and theatre.
At the heart of it are two extraordinary performances: Ncuti Gatwa as Christopher Marlowe and Edward Bluemel as William Shakespeare. Gatwa prowls across the stage in leather, oozing sex and swagger, with the confidence of a man who believes he’s untouchable. He throws out lines like ‘you can’t write Joan of Arc as a hero, she’s fucking French!’, and later jeers at Shakespeare’s style with a mocking ‘a horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse’ – certain that nobody will remember Will’s words. He is utterly convinced he’ll go down as the greatest poet of all time, and Shakespeare even admits he believes it. Bluemel, meanwhile, starts tentative, weighed down by fear of exposure – his Catholic family could condemn him – but as the play unfolds, he finds his footing, meeting Gatwa’s fire with growing confidence. When his passion finally breaks through, it’s breathtaking. Together, the two of them create an electricity on stage that is palpable – equal parts admiration, rivalry, lust, and heartbreak.
Liz Duffy Adams’ script fizzes with wit and invention, bold enough to put words into the mouths of giants. Marlowe flirts and taunts, calling Shakespeare ‘boy’ and nicknaming him ‘Will who won’t,’ daring him to step outside the lines. He boasts ‘History may be written by the victors, but we know they delegate to the poets,’ dripping with smug self-belief, and later spits out ‘Reputation is a virulent weed,’ a line that feels just as sharp in a world still obsessed with fame and followers. There are tender beats and comic ones, but always threaded with danger. It’s as much a love story as it is a political drama, and Adams stakes her own claim with a script full of daring, humour, and heart.
Joanna Scotcher’s costumes deserve their own round of applause. Gatwa’s Marlowe is dressed in Elizabethan-inspired leather that’s both period and punk, perfectly capturing his wild, sexy energy. Bluemel’s Shakespeare, in contrast, wears a loose open shirt – understated, vulnerable, but with a quiet sensuality of its own. The contrast in their looks underlines the contrast in their characters, and the way their dynamic shifts over the course of the play.
And then there’s the set. When that screen parts, the stage opens onto towering walls of rigged stage lights, all the way to the ceiling. At moments of conflict or desire, the lights flare and blaze, almost overwhelming us. George Dennis’s sound and music design hums beneath the action – a low, unsettling thrum that you don’t always notice until it’s already got you in its grip. Neil Austin’s lighting and Andrzej Goulding’s video work combine to create an atmosphere that feels both Elizabethan and futuristic. Dates flash up in glowing green text. Torture scenes flicker across the screen, brutal and Orwellian. There’s a strong 1984 undercurrent, a reminder that these men lived under constant surveillance, where a word or a rumour could be fatal.
Daniel Evans’ direction is taut, making ninety minutes without an interval feel like a rush of adrenaline. He balances stillness with sudden bursts of conflict, shaping the rhythm of their duel so the energy never dips.
The result is a production that is funny, sexy, and devastating. The humour – and there is a lot of it – always teeters on the edge of danger. Every laugh comes with the knowledge that a wrong word, a wrong glance, could mean the end. And the passion between these two men, whether in flirtation, fury, or fear, is utterly compelling. The audience is held in that tension right up to the final, shattering moments.
That said, if you’re a history purist, this may not be your cup of tea. The play takes big liberties with period accuracy, costumes, and characterisation, leaning into theatrical invention rather than museum-piece realism. For me, that’s exactly what makes it so thrilling.
Born With Teeth is a triumph of writing, performance, and design – a clever, intoxicating two-hander that feels like both a cage fight and a love story. Gatwa and Bluemel are magnetic together, giving us characters who will stay with you long after the lights go down. This is theatre at its most alive: raw, witty, and unforgettable.
Born With Teeth runs at Wyndham’s Theatre until 1 November 2025.
Book tickets now at wyndhamstheatre.co.uk
Words by Nick Barr
Photography Johan Persson
