SKWERT: The Reunion is an absurd, high-energy blast from the early 2000s.

What if your favourite boy band from yesteryear got back together, but instead of a heartfelt reunion tour, they had to contend with an impending AI takeover? That’s the delightfully silly premise of SKWERT: The Reunion, a new musical comedy that brings all the drama of a real-life supergroup to the stage with infectious energy.

The writing is fun and creative, packed with references that feel spot-on – linking us to just enough real-world events to sell the boy band supergroup concept without ever taking itself too seriously. The characters are genuinely endearing, each filling a recognisable trope that anyone who grew up in the boy band era will instantly recognise. The choreography hits that perfect nostalgic sweet spot, evoking the music videos of our youth while the show serves up all the ego clashes, creative differences, and backstage tension of a real-life supergroup reunion.

The cast’s energy and clear friendship are what truly drive this show’s success. They are having so much fun on stage that you can’t help but join in. Elliott Lam makes a convincing leader of the band. He can clearly front a show, commanding attention with ease. Aaron James Douglas has the most varied character arc and demonstrates a strong command of the stage space; his voice projects beautifully and we never had any issue hearing him.

Mo Munn’s singing chops really stand out, and her consistent, grounded performance helps keep the show moving forward through its more chaotic moments. Q Potts provides excellent comic relief through both spoken and physical comedy, remaining utterly endearing throughout.

Lily Catastrophe brings her signature sex bombshell approach to the role and often steals the spotlight (a perfect fit for her character). Keegan Thomas’s performance amusingly brings a recognisable character trope to the stage and adds a few fun surprises along the way.

By the time the final number rolls around, any remaining hesitation in the room has evaporated. The audience is fully bought in. We are singing along at full volume, waving glow sticks with abandon, and refusing to let the band leave without an encore. It is the kind of genuine, unforced enthusiasm that can’t be manufactured; we have become exactly what the show asks us to be: devoted SKWERT fans, chanting for more.

Behind the scenes, Lila Black manages the tech with skill, with lighting and sound generally feeling both seamless and well thought through. Finn McKinlay’s music is good and fun, enhancing the vibes throughout and leaving you humming long after you’ve left.

The production makes clever use of minimal resources. The set design is intentionally sparse (just a projector screen and some slightly raised platforms) but the projections work hard to establish time, place and tone. The glow sticks provided to the audience are a lovely touch; who doesn’t love a memento they can wave along to the beat?

A few small refinements could take this already enjoyable show to the next level. The raised platforms are effective when used, and the moments when cast members claim that height are visually striking. It would be great to see even more of that throughout the dance numbers. The microphones occasionally struggle to consistently pick up the cast, meaning our ability to hear sometimes depends on how well individuals project. A few moments of feedback from knocked mics also creep in, though these are minor and don’t derail the fun.

Learning that “splash zone” is not a warning to be ignored is pure, joyful anarchy that makes the band’s name fit perfectly. That layer of unpredictability elevates the whole experience; you can’t help but grin as you’re caught in the crossfire. There’s potential to make it land even harder. If the band signalled earlier that waterguns were always part of their lore, the chaos would transform from a delightful surprise into an earned payoff. A little in-world history could make the splash zone feel like a cherished SKWERT tradition we’re finally getting to experience. The audience is happy to buy into the idea that we’re long-time fans and this goodwill could be further capitalised with some tiny nudges.

The merch table causes a moment of confusion at the top of the show. It isn’t entirely clear whether we were meant to engage with it as part of the bit or if we are genuinely expected to buy merchandise before the performance. It makes perfect sense after the show, and the opportunity to grab a poster signed by the band is a genuinely charming way to end the night. It might land even cleaner if it’s simply part of the set during the show and then activated naturally at the end, as they already do so well.

The song lyrics projected on screen are a brilliant addition, making it easy to sing along. A small but helpful tweak would be signalling to the audience earlier that singing along is encouraged. Something subtle, the way a real superband might, without ever breaking character.

SKWERT: The Reunion is a fun, affectionate parody powered by a cast who clearly adore working together. With a few technical tweaks, it has all the makings of a cult favourite.

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Despite the no-show of the BATS Dome lighting board, which crashed an hour before starting time (we are only told this at the end of the show), the brave cast of SKWERT – Elliott Lam, Keegan Thomas, Lily Catastrophe, Q Potts, Mo Munn, Aaron Douglas – and Tech operator (Lila Black, of sound and AV only, this time) have ‘boxed on’ on to bring what’s left of SKWERT: The Reunion to their well-disposed second night audience.

Is it fair, in these circumstances, to review a show that bills itself as “a chaotic blend of parody, live music and theatrical farce”? Well, while lively lighting for the musical numbers and the OMG surprise moments would doubtless add production value, the central core is the relationship story of a reuniting ‘boy band’. That should stand on its own. The AV projections, however (created by Elliott Lam, I assume) add lots of colourful spectacle to the scenography.  

There is much enthusiastic ‘in character’ welcoming of audience arrivals from the ensemble. They chat to us individually in our seats. Some hand out bunches of glow sticks. A shifty type, in a long coat and dark glasses, slips folded notes to each of us while pretending not to … I look forward to seeing what the payoff will be.

They are all wearing what look like radio mics – mini pompom wind muffs on thin sparkly silver rods – but they turn out to be toys. Some voices are equal to Finn McKinlay’s recorded music, others not so much. Some sing true, others not so much. When they launch into their signature song, ‘SKWERT’, complete with water pistols, and I guess it’s only to be expected that they haven’t yet quite got their act back together. But improvement is not part of the dramatic structure.

The premise is promising: in the wake of the tragic death of their leader, Scott (Aaron James Douglas), a couple of years ago, Ecko has brought the remaining band members – Locke, Enya, Reece and Yuri – together in an attempt to reunite the band for one last world tour in his honour. It may be a spoiler to say how Scott lost his life; let’s just say it was at sea and involved the Titanic. Meanwhile, each member went their separate ways.  

Yuri (Keegan Thomas), ‘The Mental One’, who went to Japan but became addicted to drugs and has returned. Locke (Q Potts), ‘The Bad Boy’, has spent time in prison and is trying to recoup his losses with ‘merch’. Enya (Lily Catastrophe), ‘The Genius’, has been developing her solo career and isn’t sure about rejoining a group. Reece (Mo Munn), ‘The Baby’, cast aside his wholesome image and fell into depravity. Ecko, ‘the hot one’, had a solo career but got cancelled for plagiarism …  

Everyone is credited with writing the show so I assume they’ve each contributed their back stories, which emerge amid the somewhat messy attempt to get reformed as a band. A brand new song, ‘In Memorium’ – or is it ‘In Memorandum’ – mentions a submersible in an unmerciful sea. And here’s where we discover (spoiler alert), Ecko has now plagiarised Scott himself – as an AI Bot! But he’s dysfunctional as gets carted off.

Locke’s energy drink, Pyss, splendidly manifested at the Merch counter, gets an anthemic advertising song. Yuri falls off the proverbial wagon and has a ‘white face’ moment. They attempt to unite with a song:
  No matter if you’re left or right
  Time for us to all unite …

Scott returns as an AI Polygram, wanting to know, “Who murdered me?” If they don’t come up with an answer in 10 minutes, the consequences will be dire (the one suggested could be improved on, imho). Given Scott’s assertion that anything they can do, he can do better (shades of Annie Get Your Gun there?), Enya suggests they destroy him by coming up with a better song than the Scott bot could write.

Is the murderer and motive revealed? Does ‘I Want to SKWERT Forever’ have the desired effect? You’ll have to see it to find out.

By way of noting how clever the script gets, there are some banger lines – e.g: “Humans don’t kill boy band members, balconies do”; “I never thought messing with AI would have such dire consequences” (for those who like puns), and “You trusted my life to a billionaire?”

The afore-mentioned well-disposed audience offers hearty applause, not least in sympathy for what they’ve achieved despite the technical issues. Some flock to the Merch table … and I look at the glow sticks and folded note in my hands and wonder what they were about.  

It has to be said the play’s potential has yet to be realised. A designated playwright might bring all the backstories and present action components together into a more coherent and better-structured whole. A Director might not only ensure the script ‘sings’ on stage but would work with the actors – who are all experienced stand-up comics – on how to ‘be’ their characters in convincing relationships with each other. That plus some rigorous musical directing could make all the difference.

As it is, I leave BATS contemplating what SKWERT: The Reunion could become.  

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