“An Italian summer romance that goes wrong” – this is how Crocodile Tears was first pitched to me by its writer, Natascha Norton, when I sat down with her and director Rosie Morgan-Males. But it soon became clear that this simple description understates the latest offering from Labyrinth Productions. Crocodile Tears delves into a raw, emotionally charged relationship between two characters on the edge of romantic possibility, even if everything around them seems to be falling apart. While Natascha was careful not to give too much away, she hinted that the play deals with questions of infidelity, loyalty, and what makes betrayal feel justifiable.
For Labyrinth Productions, coming off a run of boundary-pushing shows, Crocodile Tears might be their most ambitious project yet. The play knits together film, theatre, and music into a multimedia experience, treading a fine line between emotional realism and immersive abstraction. Expect projection sequences, animation, snippets of Italian, and much more.
Rosie explained: “It’s like running a short film, but not one that’ll be edited into a standalone short film – something interwoven with theatre.” This is certainly an ambitious blending of mediums. Theatre is immediate, whereas film is slow and meticulous. “That’s the challenge,” Rosie told me. “Theatre asks: how do we get emotion in the moment? Film says: let’s colour grade for four days.
“We want to pull those emotional beats of film into a live, theatrical space. I think our generation has lost that sense of film as a collective experience. Film is not really seen as a shared experience anymore, and I’d love to flip that on its head and bring people back together.”
That cinematic inspiration is everywhere in Crocodile Tears, from the lingering, dreamlike shots of Fellini’s 8½, to Joachim Trier’s existential tragicomedy The Worst Person in the World. “Think Luca Guadagnino,” they told me, pointing to his evocation of summer desire in Call Me by Your Name, sun-drenched and full of longing.
I wanted to hear more about the writing process. Natascha explained how the play grew out of her time living in Italy during her year abroad, a personal touch that brought emotional authenticity to the script. Of course, transforming something so personal into a collaborative project came with its challenges.
“We had some honest conversations,” Natascha says. “‘Take it in whatever direction feels right’, I told Rosie, because I totally trust her vision. I say this all the time, but seeing what she did with Closer, I’m in awe.”
Coming at it from a directorial position, Rosie added: “From my side, it’s hard transforming something personally motivated into theatre. When you’re in it emotionally, it makes great material, but turning it into something theatrical takes distance. The only reason it works is because of the professional and personal bond we have. We can access that emotion without needing five years of hindsight.”
Given the emotional terrain Crocodile Tears covers, I was curious how Rosie’s recent experience handling intimacy in Closer, at the Pilch earlier this term, fed into this project.
“Closer was very much ‘you get what you see.’ It was about downplaying physical intimacy to highlight narrative,” Rosie explained. “This is about what happens outside of narrative. I was just rehearsing with our lead and talking about internal monologue. How do we project that outside the body and let everyone in on it? That’s what makes this piece unique – sitting with thoughts and panic that usually stay internal. Closer was about external events; this is about inner life.”
This is why they leaned into multimedia. While the stage helps with immersion, film is perfect for communicating those abstract emotions, dreams, or intrusive memories. Closer was intimate in a physical sense, yet Crocodile Tears aims to tap into a ‘collective intimacy’.
I asked them both what they hoped audiences will take away from the show.
For Natascha, “it’s about finding comfort in discomfort – or making discomfort comforting. Yes, it’s an escape, but it deals with intense emotions. The most impactful art is when you relate to it on a personal level, even if it doesn’t reflect your reality. I want audiences to feel something, maybe not always pleasant, but cathartic. To recognize themselves in something they thought would make them feel isolated.”
Rosie agreed. “Yeah, it’s saying it’s okay to overthink. We all spiral, and just because you can’t always express it to your friend doesn’t make it any less real. The themes are tough, but we’re presenting them in a way that’s digestible. It lets you sit with them for a bit, not overwhelm you. It’s a different kind of art form.”
Labyrinth Production’s staging of Crocodile Tears will be running at the Burton Taylor Studio, 10th-14th June.
