Table 17 at the Kiln Theatre – review

There is something immediately inviting about Table 17. Its sleek, contemporary set places the audience inside an intimate late-night lounge: a luminous tiled platform, a curved ribbed booth, plush chairs and tiny amber table lamps, all bathed in deep violet and indigo. Above, a striking geometric ceiling completes the nightclub-meets-cabaret aesthetic. Matt Haskins’ lighting design deserves particular praise, shifting between cool purples and softer blues and oranges to create the atmosphere of an elegant restaurant or club.

But the real magic is in how this small space is used. The rotating central booth becomes a remarkably versatile piece of theatrical machinery: sometimes a bar, sometimes storage for in-flight items, sometimes a visual divider, and sometimes the engine of a scene change. Even a billboard can suddenly become a Clippers basketball game or an airport departure board. These are clever and modern ideas, and the production wastes remarkably little of its modest footprint. Every corner has a purpose.

The show’s greatest asset, however, is Michael Rishawn. Having followed the production from its 2024 MCC off-Broadway iteration through 2025’s Geffen staging in Los Angeles and now its 2026 Kiln presentation, you can see how much he has grown with Table 17. He plays three distinctly different characters and inhabits each with complete conviction.

As a bitterly single, queer receptionist and hopeless romantic, he brings vulnerability and comic timing; as Eric, he becomes a straightforward, confident man who steals Jada’s heart; and as the bartender, he is an almost hilariously narcissistic muscle bro, while simultaneously displaying genuinely impressive bartending skills (I highly recommend to take the table seats if you are going on a date – you might even get a freshly made drink from Rishawn!). His narration is equally engaging. If Rishawn steals the show, it is partly because he makes you want to see even more of him.

The monologues and direct addresses are among the production’s strongest devices. They have the rhythm and spontaneity of stand-up comedy, but gradually the audience realises that we are no longer simply spectators. We have been welcomed into the story. The interplay between sound, lighting and those sudden direct addresses creates some deliciously theatrical moments, giving the piece an energy that feels almost cinematic while remaining unmistakably live.

There are echoes of The Devil Wears Prada in its polished lounge aesthetic and costume design, and there is an interesting connection through the production team, with one of the co-producers also involved in Prada in the West End. Yet, Table 17 has its own identity.

The script is, sadly, the weaker element. At times, its romantic dialogue feels reminiscent of a Christmas television movie (that you play in the background) or a teenage romance novel: charming, but somewhat predictable and occasionally immature. Thankfully, the writing gains maturity and emotional depth in the second half. Its central question – can love still be real if it ends, or is love only truly rich when it lasts? – ultimately gives the show more substance than its lighter moments initially suggest.

The profanity occasionally feels unnecessary, although it does contribute to the realism of the characters and their world. There are also a few small details that could benefit from greater attention to detail: after one scene change, some scene-specific props (the handbag of Jada from her reunion date) remains visible in the booth.

Still, Table 17 is a play powered by ideas, performance and theatricality. Marisha Wallace and Jamael Westman are also superb as Jada and Dallas, respectively, the lighting is gorgeous and the staging is inventive. Most importantly, it makes a very small theatre feel considerably larger – and brings the audience right into the action.

If you happen to be in the neighbourhood, be sure to take a seat at Table 17.