The atmosphere is instantly dangerous. He's a big, heavily tattooed man with a darkness that both weighs on and exudes from him. By contrast, she's petite, sunny, and potentially trapped. You're immediately worried for her safety, praying for situational irony. Very quickly, you're concerned for them both. The irony arrives but it's not what you prayed for. What follows is a gentle vivisection of souls.

There's pain – sharp and frequent, leaving an permanent mark. A map of who they've been. Cathro ingeniously has them stare into a literal abyss as we look on, indelibly moved.

Profound and stirring.

A sweet, sad little gem of a two hander, Cathro's FIXED has some lovely points to make about the difficulties of connection, and how the armor we build up around ourselves to protect ourselves from our personal pain has a habit of wounding others in ways we never expect. A terrific duet for two actors that finds music in unexpected places.

There are two incredibly strong, compelling, and specific characters at the center of this story, and their secrets and idiosyncrasies will keep you glued to every word of this intimate and compelling script. I love how the dialogue slowly, delicately reveals what these two diametrically opposed souls have in common and the ways they are obviously and irrevocably alike. The piece would be incredibly simple to produce but would certainly leave audiences talking. I especially appreciate that the script doesn't give all the secrets away, leaving you to fill in the gaps yourself. A really lovely, deeply felt piece.