King of Pangea – King’s Head Theatre

Mark Curry and Alfie Blackwell in King of Pangea at the King’s Head Theatre, London. Picture: Steve Gregson

King of Pangea continues at the King’s Head Theatre, London until 6 July 2025.

Star rating: four stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ✩

There’s nothing more painful than the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. When it comes to our own mistakes, we can learn from our errors and become better people; when life throws unavoidable tragedy at us, we can only stare in horror at how little is actually under our control. Some turn to philosophy to live in harmony with this absurd reality. Others turn to religion and the comfort of a universal order much grander than ourselves. However, these approaches are rarely our first port of call. Much more appealing is distraction: escaping from pain in fantasy, in denial, even in theatre.

The pull of escapism is universally felt. If we can find happiness by ignoring reality, then why suffer? We are imperfect creatures doomed to never fully comprehend our vast and confusing universe anyway. If we can all just create our own truth and use it to live better and more enjoyable lives, wouldn’t the world be a better place?

These sorts of eternal questions are clearly deeply important to Martin Storrow, writer and composer of King of Pangea. Echoing Storrow’s personal experience, protagonist Sam Crow (Alfie Blackwell) reflects on losing his mother Celia (Sophia Ragavelas) when he was a child (child Sam is played by Daniel Lee or Tayt Joshua Silvester-Stoller). Though he has the loving support of his father (Dan Burton) and girlfriend Amy (Emily Tang), Sam instead chooses to deal with his heartache by receding into Pangea: the fantasy world setting of stories his mother would tell.

Though tragedy permeates every fibre of this musical, there is a surprising and welcome amount of fun to be had as well. The playful interactions between Sam and his loved ones are touching, and when we are transported to the fictional land of Pangea we find even more levity. A tirelessly charismatic Mark Curry gives a delightful turn as the sparky but utterly tired-of-life 1,000-year-old prophet Elijah, while Burton is superb doubling as a Gaston-adjacent ship’s captain, a man who happily lets the winds of fate dictate his journeys. No moment of fantasy is wasted, with even comic moments like this standing as a reminder of the importance of establishing where we human beings do and do not have agency.

Blackwell is stunning in the lead role, showcasing an impressive singing voice and exploring a formidable gamut of emotions throughout the play. He has great chemistry with the brilliantly teasing but charming Tang as his girlfriend Amy, and particularly with Ragavelas as his mother Celia. Ragavelas’ performance is touching and genuine, with plentiful heart-wrenching moments. Director Richard Israel does an excellent job in marshalling these acting and singing talents into a piece that always feels grounded in reality, even when sailing off on fantastic voyages.

Musically, Storrow shows off a deft ear for that slick and polished contemporary musical theatre sound. The opening number ‘Time Rises’ masterfully and painlessly delivers plentiful exposition while setting the energetic tone for what’s to come. However, the most memorable numbers might be the standalone character songs where Storrow allows himself to indulge in a little pastiche. Musical director Jordan Paul Clarke and his four-piece band sound both superbly polished and like they’re having a great deal of fun as they traverse genres spanning from folk ballads to Hamilton-aspiring rap.

Carly Brownbridge’s lush production design is inventive, with sliding sections and secret compartments aplenty. Visually, it is inspired by treasure maps and topography, and it positively bursts with colour when combined with Catja Hamilton’s tasteful and striking lighting work. All-in-all, depending on your tolerance for half-rhymes (it’s 2025 and Yvonne Gilbert’s excellent sound design renders all tonight’s lyrics crystal clear anyway), this is a polished affair. The only significant issue for this show might lie in the tonal balance of its book.

Though, regrettably, deep grief can be relatable at all ages, it is discussed in a thoroughly grown-up manner here. Indeed, given the stark honesty on display and the show’s metaphorical nature – not to mention occasional adult language – this clearly isn’t intended to be a show for children. On the other hand, the swashbuckling fantasy adventure that plays out for the majority of the running time is pure young adult fare. Knowing that this Pangean adventure is metaphorical robs that narrative of its urgency: the audience isn’t emotionally invested in whether Sam reaches his dreamed-of island, they just want him to be alright.

This would be more of a problem were this a longer show, but fortunately we are returned to the real world – and a beautiful poem by Storrow’s own late mother – within an hour and a half. King of Pangea’s thoughtful writing provides a perfect platform for post-show philosophical discussion.

Is there friction between the show’s dual themes of hope and radical acceptance of cold, hard reality? Could there possibly be any universally effective method for dealing with tragedy? What does death mean when you’ve been changed and shaped so fundamentally by the deceased? Those sorts of conversations are always more interesting than complaining about uncomfortable seats or the prices at the bar (to be clear, neither of which are an issue at King’s Head Theatre’s fantastic new auditorium).

King of Pangea is an intelligent, philosophical and honest theatrical treatise on grief that also happens to be a great deal of swashbuckling fun. To pull a rip-roaring adventure and frequent laughter out of tragedy is no easy task and Storrow should be incredibly proud of what he has created here. It will no doubt go on to provoke thought and offer comfort to many more audiences and I cannot wait to see its future development.

Ian Bowkett