The air inside London’s Duke of York’s Theatre is thick with nostalgia and feedback as David Hare’s landmark play Teeth ‘n’ Smiles storms back to the West End in a much-anticipated 50th anniversary revival. The production, which opened just before March 28, 2026, and runs until June 6, is more than a trip down memory lane—it’s a raucous, sometimes messy, always compelling examination of the chaos that swirls around a band at the end of its rope. With pop star Rebecca Lucy Taylor—better known as Self Esteem—inhabiting the role of the wild frontwoman Maggie Frisby, the show is both a celebration and a critique of the music industry, then and now.
Originally staged at the Royal Court in 1975, Teeth ‘n’ Smiles was ahead of its time, putting a live band with original songs center stage and shaking the very plaster of what was then London’s most puritanical theatre. According to The Independent, Hare himself remembers the thrill of hearing the band "rip the place to pieces." The play, set in 1969, follows Maggie Frisby and her band, the Skins, as they try to survive one last gig at a Cambridge university ball—a setting that crackles with the dying embers of the hippie dream and the onset of a more cynical era. As the band members bicker, banter, and self-destruct amidst bags of drugs and bottles of whisky, they occasionally remember what brought them together in the first place: the music.
But what makes this revival particularly electric is the presence of Self Esteem as Maggie. Taylor’s performance is a force of nature, swinging between swagger and vulnerability, and she brings her own musical sensibility to the role, contributing additional songs and lyrics alongside Nick and Tony Bicât’s original score. As The Stage notes, "the music itself...is arguably the most striking and impressive element of the production. It’s loud—unbearably so, on occasion—and Taylor triumphs as the tongue-curling Frisby with swagger and bravado." The show’s soundscape veers from riotous rock numbers to a tender acoustic finale, mirroring Maggie’s descent and moments of clarity.
Yet, for all the energy on display, some critics argue that the play’s script, now half a century old, doesn’t quite land with the same subversive punch it once did. In the years since Hare’s original, theatre has become enamored with tales of bands and musicians, both real and fictional. From jukebox musicals like MJ, Beautiful, and Jersey Boys to more introspective dramas such as Stereophonic—which itself graced the same stage just months earlier—audiences have become accustomed to seeing the messy, behind-the-scenes lives of artists dramatized. As The Independent puts it, "putting a band onstage is practically a staple: theatre loves popular music."
Still, Teeth ‘n’ Smiles holds a unique place in this lineage. Its original run was less a nostalgic look back than a howl of disillusionment, a comedy laced with the bitterness of dreams deferred. The new production tries to recapture that spirit, with Daniel Raggett’s direction injecting moments of vibrancy—like a burst of light that opens the second act, only to fade back into the band’s anarchy. The cast stumbles onstage from the audience, blurring the line between performance and reality, and the whole enterprise feels just a little bit dangerous, as if anything could happen next.
The supporting cast adds texture to the proceedings. Michael Fox, known for his roles in The Land of the Living and All in A Row, plays the band’s songwriter Arthur, delivering a "stunning and angelic song towards the end of the piece," as The Stage describes. Roman Asde is a standout as Anson, the awkward medical student hoping to interview Maggie for the university paper; his comic timing and the sudden shifts in his character arc provide much-needed relief from the surrounding chaos. Jojo Macari’s Peyote, the band’s resident drug enthusiast, offers moments of levity, though some critics find the character one-dimensional.
Not everything, however, is a hit. The script’s attempts at deeper commentary on the music industry—about the thin line between boredom and excitement, the lack of meaning in song lyrics, and the perennial struggles of underpaid artists—sometimes feel surface-level. The line "God, the singing is easy. It’s the bits in between I can’t do," spoken by Maggie, rings out as both a moment of raw honesty and a kind of mission statement for the play itself. The music soars, but the backstage drama can occasionally drag.
Yet perhaps that’s the point. Teeth ‘n’ Smiles isn’t just about the thrill of performance or the agony of failure—it’s about the spaces in between, the awkward silences, the missed connections, and the relentless search for meaning in a world that’s moving on. The play’s bleakness, its refusal to offer easy answers or redemptive arcs, feels oddly refreshing in an era saturated with music biopics and sanitized success stories. As one critic wryly observes, the show’s observations about the music business—"where is the money and where are the girls"—still resonate in a time when artists struggle to make a living from streaming and live gigs.
Accessibility is also a focus for this revival: the production is scheduled to offer audio description and captioned performances on April 21 and April 23, ensuring that more theatre lovers can experience the show’s highs and lows firsthand.
So, does this 50th anniversary revival of Teeth ‘n’ Smiles shake the plaster and rattle the rafters as it once did? Maybe not quite—but it still manages to bite. With Self Esteem’s magnetic turn at its center, the music roaring and the ghosts of the past swirling through the theatre, the play stands as both a relic of its time and a mirror for today’s troubled industry. As Maggie herself might say, it’s the bits in between that matter—and here, they’re as raw, funny, and jagged as ever.