Sunny Side
| Review, Northern Rascals on Tour

Sunny Side uses dance and spoken word to rip open the silence around men’s mental health, and it’s beautiful.
A young man and a woman lie on the floor, their heads resting together, both looking lost in thought. Their hands are loosely intertwined.

You know that feeling when something hits you right in the feels, leaving you blown away, but desperate to talk about it at the same time? That’s Sunny Side by Northern Rascals. Contemporary dance meets spoken word in this raw, beautiful exploration of men’s mental health: where pain, loneliness, and frustration spill out through movement and poetry. It’s powerful stuff: quietly devastating, yet hopeful. If you’ve ever struggled to find the right words, this show speaks volumes.

A man sits on a messy bed, pointing fingers in a celebratory gesture. Behind him, a shadowy silhouette looms on the door.

Credited as co-artistic directors, Anna Holmes’ striking poetry and Sam Ford’s sublime choreography combine brilliantly to portray the daily struggles that define life for so many. At the heart of it all is K, played with incredible honesty by Soul Roberts. K is 18, from rural Yorkshire, and stuck in the monotony of everyday life. The spoken word acts as K’s inner voice throughout the piece: sometimes reflecting his deepest thoughts, sometimes letting us glimpse the words he can never say out loud. He lives in a sparse, unimportant room; just a place to sleep, a visual metaphor for the emptiness he feels. The set, beautifully designed by Caitlin Mawhinney, for most of the performance is K’s bedroom. It looks like a room cut roughly out of a building, with wire and steel sticking out of the concrete walls, perfectly reflecting his fractured emotional state.

A young woman in a red checked skirt leaps mid-dance across a sparse bedroom set, her hair flying, full of energy and freedom.
A man leans against a wall under a spotlight, wearing a bright orange jacket, his body language full of tension and struggle.
Two young men caught in a powerful moment, one pulling the other close under stark lighting. One wears a bright orange work jacket.
A messy bedroom set, strewn with clothes and clutter. A man lies on a bed scrolling through his phone, lit by warm striped shadows.

Soul Roberts’ portrayal of K is restrained, exactly as the character is, but when the cracks show, his performance becomes raw and deeply moving. At times he struggles physically, crawling across the bedroom floor like a newborn giraffe, beautifully symbolising his internal struggle against the overwhelming weight of expectation and loneliness.

Danny (Ed Mitchell) is K’s friend who’s gone off to university and returned, seemingly from a completely different world. Their friendship is beautifully awkward, tense with unspoken feelings. It’s never explicitly said, but you sense K’s deeper feelings for Danny, feelings he can’t express safely. Their interactions, especially the dance while gaming, brilliantly depict emotional and physical distance, dancing around each other in every sense.

Two young men in a sparse bedroom set. One stands watching, while the other kicks out dramatically mid-dance, surrounded by piles of clothes.
A man pulls against red cords stretched taut across a dark stage, fighting to move forward. A glowing doorway looms behind him.
A young man lies face-down on the floor, staring ahead with a look of exhaustion and quiet sadness.

A night out in London, shown through a stunning sequence with club music and laser lighting, perfectly captures that sense of feeling trapped together yet apart, third-wheeling, while your friend seems to effortlessly blend into a new social group. Sophie Thomas dances the female characters, bringing warmth and complexity to each fleeting interaction, highlighting K’s alienation even more poignantly.

One haunting image from Sunny Side stayed with me: silhouettes of parents constantly arguing behind a door, a shadowy reminder of the broken communication K has grown up with. This resonated deeply with me personally; my own parents divorced when I was nine, and I vividly recall shouted arguments on the other side of a glass door, with no one to discuss it with. It was almost as if we had to pretend it wasn’t happening. It’s this lack of emotional openness, especially among men, that the show highlights powerfully. Produced in association with Andy’s Man Club, a charity dedicated to getting men to open up, the message is clear and vital.

Two young men sit separately in the same dark bedroom. One is lit in blue on the bed, the other animatedly talks on the floor.
A raw, emotional moment as one man collapses into another’s arms. One man looks upwards, his face contorted in pain under blue light.
Two men press their foreheads together, hands cradling each other’s heads in a gesture of connection, grief, and silent support.

As someone with ADHD, who has spent years working through mental health struggles in therapy, this show especially resonated with me. I’m passionate about advocating for people to talk about what’s really going on underneath. Therapy has been a huge support for me, and Sunny Side is a raw, vital reminder of how much we need spaces where men, especially, are encouraged to talk, feel, and be heard.

Walking out of the theatre, I felt quietly emotional, reflective, carrying a sadness but also a strong sense of connection, and optimism for what this sort of work brings to light. Sunny Side brilliantly captures how universal these struggles are, even when the details differ. It’s a reminder that beneath the surface, we’re all wrestling with something, and that talking about it, sharing it, is both difficult and essential. See this show and then talk about it. It matters. We matter. You matter.

Catch this important and moving show on tour, full dates at northernrascals.com

For further support or information about Andys Man Club, visit andysmanclub.co.uk

Words by Nick Barr

Photos by Elly Welford

Sunny Side
| Review, Northern Rascals on Tour

Sunny Side uses dance and spoken word to rip open the silence around men’s mental health, and it’s beautiful.
A young man and a woman lie on the floor, their heads resting together, both looking lost in thought. Their hands are loosely intertwined.