Miss Brexit, Omnibus Theatre Review

Miss Brexit production image. Photo by Jake Bush

Written by Paris for Theatre and Tonic

Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review

---

Miss Brexit, currently performed at Omnibus Theatre, is a sharp, hilarious, and surprisingly sensitive satire about immigration, identity, and the post-Brexit reality for Europeans in the UK. Created by Maria Who? Theatre Company and directed by Amaia Mugica and Alejandro Postigo, the production masterfully blends biting political critique with extravagant comedy, delivering both sharp laughs and a deeply human exploration of what it means to belong.

The show cleverly adopts the format of a reality TV competition, reminiscent of Britain’s Got Talent or RuPaul’s Drag Race, and transforms it into a darkly comic nightmare. The premise is simple yet brutal: Miss Brexit is a competition where migrant contestants must prove themselves worthy of remaining in the UK, while the losers face deportation. Each participant—hailing from a different ‘exotic’ European country—must constantly navigate between erasing their identity to conform to British expectations and, when required, desperately exploiting their cultural background to appease an unconsciously stereotype-hungry British audience. Their performances expertly highlight the absurdity of assimilation while exposing the dehumanizing contradictions of migrant life in post-Brexit Britain.

A major reason the show works so well is Harvey Cartlidge’s brilliant composition. The songs are expertly and hilariously written, weaving in elements of each contestant’s cultural origins and musical traditions to craft a satirical yet affectionate piece. Cartlidge’s work is an essential part of the show and elevates it significantly.

The entire cast is outstanding, seamlessly switching between singing, dancing, and acting, embodying both the absurdity and emotional depth of their roles. Alba Villaitodo (Miss Catalonia) is a comedic powerhouse, delivering razor-sharp wit and impeccable timing. Maxence Marmy (Miss Switzerland) using her character’s neurotic contradictions, hilariously deconstructs Swiss stereotypes. Shivone Dominguez Blascikova (Miss Spain), with her commanding stage presence and striking physicality, is the quintessential stage queen—very fitting that, in my version of the show, she won the title. Meanwhile, Isabel Mulas (Miss Italy) and Ricardo Ferreira (Miss Portugal) share one of the most touching moments of the show. Despite being competitors, we learn that they have been flatmates since first arriving in London, navigating the struggles of precarious housing and uncertain futures together. Their story beautifully encapsulates the paradox of migration—being forced to compete for survival while simultaneously forming deep, unbreakable bonds across cultures. George Berry, playing the show’s host, is posh, arrogantly insufferable, yet completely magnetic—his presence commands the stage with an electrifying mix of satire and spectacle.

Visually, the production is a feast. The costumes are as flamboyant as they are unsettling—showy, designed to objectify, and perfectly tailored to the grotesque spectacle of a talent show aimed at stripping participants of their dignity.

A subtle yet powerful element of the performance was its underlying nervous energy. Despite the comedic surface, there was an unmistakable tension—an urgency in every movement. Whether a directorial choice or something deeply ingrained in the cast, it echoed the relentless pressure of migrant life in London and/or the creative industry’s cutthroat demands. The constant need to perform, to be on time, to say yes to everything—until stability allows you to finally say no—felt achingly real. This quiet urgency made the characters all the more sympathetic, turning the show’s absurd premise into a deeply familiar struggle for survival.

The show opens with incredible energy, holding the audience in rapt attention, though some pacing issues emerge later. One of the more introspective moments—when Miss Spain shares her backstory—feels slightly mistimed. While important, by this point in the show, we've already heard multiple contestants' personal histories, each introduced in the same specific context, making this one's placement feel somewhat off. Additionally, sound issues occasionally muddle key lyrics and dialogue. This was likely due to a combination of the venue’s acoustics and my own seating position beneath a speaker. Regardless, clearer sound design would elevate the production further.

What makes Miss Brexit truly stand out, though, is its organic interactivity. Without ever over-advertising itself as an "interactive show," it subtly pulls the audience into its absurd world. Throughout the performance, audience members are invited to judge the contestants, choosing who stays and who gets "deported." This is done in such a way that it doesn’t feel forced but instead becomes a chilling commentary on our passive complicity in systems of exclusion. You laugh—until you realize what you’re laughing at. It also gives the show rewatch value, as no two performances will be identical—every night, a different contestant wins the title, making each experience unique.

If there is one major critique for me, it’s that Miss Brexit misses an opportunity to draw a direct link between Brexit’s impact on European migrants and the much harsher treatment of non-European immigrants. Brexit was fueled, in part, by anti-refugee and anti-immigrant rhetoric, yet the show remains largely focused on the European experience without acknowledging the wider, long-standing structures of exclusion that predate Brexit. A brief acknowledgement of this could have made its critique even sharper.

Ultimately, Miss Brexit succeeds in being both wildly entertaining and deeply unsettling. It fully grasps what effective satire is—the kind that feels worryingly realistic in its extremity and over-the-top absurdity. It is a show that makes you laugh until you feel uncomfortable, forces you to reflect, and leaves you with a lingering unease. One that doesn’t just critique but also humanises. In its absurdity, it finds truth. In its comedy, it finds pain. And in its sensitivity, it finds a quiet but powerful defiance. A solid piece of theatre that, with further development and stronger production support, has all the necessary elements to thrive. It is caustic, hilarious, insightful, and, above all, effortlessly tender.

At Omnibus Theatre until 15 February 2025

★★★ ★