Review: OUTPATIENT, Park Theatre

Photo credit: Abi Mowbray

Young and ambitious, Olive is on a mission. A journalist tired of covering mind-numbing reality TV, she’s finally landed what she believes could be her big break — maybe even Pulitzer-worthy. Outpatient is a darkly humorous exploration of death, identity, and who we become when we’re living on borrowed time.

Frustrated by her career spent writing about Love Island, Olive (Harriet Madeley) craves credibility. Envious of her fiancee Tess’s high-stakes life as a war correspondent, she persuades her editor to let her write a serious piece on terminal illness. But her investigation comes to a screeching halt when she’s diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis — a rare, progressive and potentially terminal condition. Shocked and thrown off course, Olive’s world begins to unravel.

Everyone around her reacts differently. Tess throws herself into research, creating colour-coded binders and bringing home shamans peddling questionable remedies. Their well-meaning but narcissistic friend Ioanna suggests absurd “cures” that only serve to infuriate Olive. Her parents, much like Olive herself, descend into a state of anxious denial. Struggling under the weight of other people’s advice, sympathy and projections, Olive finds unexpected refuge in a friendship with Evelyn- one of the terminal patients she was meant to be profiling. Together, they dive headfirst into gym sessions, club nights, karaoke and psychedelics- anything to escape the looming reality that her life and her relationship with Tess might be slipping away.

The disease, more than just a diagnosis, becomes a trigger. It forces her to ask herself real questions. Does she even want to marry Tess? Does she want children? Why don’t her parents take her seriously? The play pushes the audience to reflect on what our own death means to us, and what we would want it to mean to others.

Madeley is a compelling storyteller: energetic, acerbic and sharp. She delivers Olive with a blend of wit, frustration and vulnerability that keeps us engaged throughout. Given the staging, with all other characters being voiceovers rather than physically present, it’s a testament to her skill that the relationships, particularly with Tess and Ioanna, still feel more realised. However, this format tends to limit the emotional impact. The quick shifts in and out of scenes mean that big moments such as Evelyn’s death or Tess’s suicide attempt, don’t always land with the weight they deserve. Both events feel rushed and underexplored, coming across more like last-minute twists than carefully seeded narrative beats.

Despite its smart humour and biting sarcasm, Outpatient is undercut by flat, often monotonous voiceovers and a lack of true introspection. We’re left wishing for one solid, sustained moment of emotional clarity- something to let us truly sit with Olive’s pain and confusion, rather than jumping from one scene to the next.

A brisk, witty journey through life, death and the messy bits in between, Outpatient is thought-provoking but ultimately uneven.

** Two stars

Reviewed by: Aleeza Humranwala

Outpatient plays at London’s Park Theatre until 7 June, with further info here.