 quietly but confidently proves how much can be conveyed with very little on display.){kind=link}
★★★★
When Broadway is mentioned, the common assumption is an illustrious musical boasting deep pockets: shows that bask in sweeping ensembles, lavish costumes, and transformative scenery that shifts with cinematic ease. Two Strangers (Carry A Cake Across New York), which has made the journey across the Atlantic from the West End, quietly but confidently proves how much can be conveyed with very little on display.
At its core, Two Strangers is a small play with big things to say. It unfolds over a short span of time and relies entirely on a two-person cast, yet it feels remarkably full. The first of the dual protagonists is Dougal Todd (Sam Tutty), an adorably naïve and relentlessly optimistic Brit who still lives with his mother. He is visiting New York for the first time, invited to the wedding of his American father. The second is Robin Rainey (Christiani Pitts), a weary, sharp-tongued New Yorker who works as a waitress at an East Village café and happens to be the younger sister of the bride.
Tasked with collecting Dougal from the airport, Robin is also charged with an additional burden: picking up a four-tier wedding cake from a bakery in Flatbush. What follows is a two-day-long odyssey through New York, with a cake in tow and emotional baggage unpacked along the way.
Running at around two and a half hours, including a brief intermission, Two Strangers is a breezy slice-of-life piece in which very little “happens” beyond two people talking. Like great dialogue-driven theatre such as 12 Angry Men, it never truly falters in pacing, largely thanks to the commitment of its two leads.
Tutty (Dear Evan Hansen) and Pitts (King Kong) are both immensely likeable and deeply nuanced in their performances. For much of the show, they move with a joyful, almost exaggerated panache, as though fully aware of the comedy in their own awkwardness. There is a self-mocking, vaudevillian quality to the performances, as if the show knows exactly how small it is compared to its Broadway neighbours like Wicked or Aladdin, and revels in that fact.
The musical numbers lean heavily into this self-awareness. The songs are playful, knowingly theatrical, and delivered with absolute sincerity. This is clear from the opening number, ‘New York’, as Dougal launches enthusiastically into an exuberant (and wildly inaccurate) ode to the city, only for Robin to puncture it with deadpan corrections (‘It’s [New York] the capital city of the USA’ “It’s not”).
The humour is sharp, but never overbearing to the point where it makes the play a one-note wonder. As events progress, the tone naturally sheds its comic skin for something more bittersweet.
On the surface, it is a brisk, slick comedy about two downtrodden souls colliding by chance. Beneath that, however, lies a sincere and gently meditative story tackling issues that feel especially resonant for audiences in their twenties: identity, financial precarity, career uncertainty, and the uneasy journey toward self-love.
The tone remains light and playful for much of its runtime, yet it is unafraid to venture into darker, more vulnerable territory without tipping into melodrama. We eventually learn that Dougal has never met his father, who left before he was born, and that Robin has not been invited to her sister’s wedding. The reasons behind both revelations are more deeply connected than expected, and this twist replaces the general humour with a moment of genuine dramatic shock.
The minimal set design plays a crucial role in this tonal tightrope. Towers of stacked briefcases are constant companions to Dougal and Robin on the stage. It is an unglamorous, yet perfectly suited decision from scenic designer Soutra Gilmour for a story about people carrying more than they can comfortably hold. At times, the luggage suggests Manhattan skyscrapers; at others, a snow-dusted hill in Central Park. With clever ingenuity, the cases become beds, café counters, and moments of refuge, embodying the characters’ sense of restless motion and emotional entrapment.
The musical reaches its emotional peak in its final moments. ‘This Year’, sung exquisitely by Pitts, particularly stands out, filled with powerfully human yearning and resolve. Then the show closes with the equally strong ‘If I Believed’, as both characters reflect on their brief yet life-altering encounter. Perched atop the suitcase-stacked set, they lift their voices and hopes toward a symbolic New York skyline. It is a moment guaranteed to have audiences applauding in unison with these two oddball protagonists.
Two Strangers (Carry A Cake Across New York) is a reminder that Broadway spectacle does not always require spectacle at all. Sometimes, all it takes is two people, a handful of suitcases, and a story honest enough to carry its own weight.
Two Strangers (Carry A Cake Across New York) will be performed at Longacre Theatre until 5 July.
Words by Joseph Jenkinson
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