Overwhelm Review: Stacey Cullen’s raw and powerful look at addiction and friendship

Image Lucy Hayes

★★★★

It is good to talk. As a doctor working in the NHS, I regularly see what happens when people do not. In British culture, that lingering stiff upper lip still holds firm, especially among men who are made to feel that showing emotion is a weakness. The consequences can be devastating, often manifesting as alcohol and drug misuse. That silence sits at the heart of Overwhelm, a new three hander written and directed by Stacey Cullen at The Bread and Roses Theatre in Clapham, which tackles men’s mental health and addiction with striking honesty.

The play centres on three friends: Miles (Louis Martino), who is outgoing, kind, and in a relationship, but hiding a secret; his flatmate Jake (Sam Bates), who has withdrawn from the world after a painful breakup; and Riley (Max Burnett), Jake’s ex-partner’s brother, whose addiction has completely consumed him. Jake has not left the flat in weeks, numbing himself with alcohol and drugs while haunted by the chaos Riley represents and the unspoken truths between him and Miles.

Cullen’s writing is simple but sharp, filled with unguarded moments that feel painfully authentic. There is no theatrical gloss or forced cleverness, just honest dialogue that captures how friends really speak when they are trying, and often failing, to connect. The sense of withholding, the things left unsaid, creates as much tension as the words themselves.

All three actors deliver strong, truthful performances. Bates and Martino share an easy, believable chemistry, their friendship quietly eroded by avoidance and guilt. Burnett, as Riley, gives a magnetic and unsettling performance. He spends much of the play observing from the sidelines, yet his presence dominates. His reactions are subtle but charged, a lesson in how to hold attention without a single line of dialogue.

The set feels like being in a uni mate’s living room, slightly unkempt, casual, and familiar, which adds to the realism and the sense of lives quietly unravelling behind closed doors. Riley’s increasingly desperate voicemails punctuate the flatmates’ conversations, giving the piece rhythm and unease. It mirrors the cycle of addiction and denial that traps all three characters in their own ways. Cullen’s direction keeps the energy taut, finding small moments of humour and humanity amid the bleakness.

Overwhelm is not easy to watch, but that is exactly what makes it essential. It speaks openly about the cost of silence, addiction, and friendship under strain with honesty and compassion. For many, including myself, it will hit close to home. This is small scale theatre doing something big, shining a light on the quiet crises playing out in countless homes across the country.

Image - Lucy Hayes