The Last Man | Southwark Playhouse Elephant

The Last Man turns Southwark Playhouse Elephant into the site of a claustrophobic apocalypse, blending psychological thriller with rock musical. While the score itself fades quickly from memory, Lex Lee’s commanding performance and the production’s immersive staging make this an engaging night of theatre.

There is something instantly compelling about The Last Man. A one person rock musical thriller set inside a bunker during a zombie apocalypse sounds, on paper, like the kind of concept that could either collapse under its own ambition or become a genuinely gripping theatrical experience. Thankfully, Southwark Playhouse’s production lands somewhere much closer to the latter.

Set in the aftermath of a mysterious virus that has wiped out much of humanity, the story follows the lone survivor of Bunker B-103 as they battle isolation, paranoia, and the creeping deterioration of their own sanity. Supplies are running low, memories begin resurfacing, and the line between reality and hallucination slowly starts to blur. It is claustrophobic, tense, and often deeply unsettling in exactly the right way.

The production leans heavily into atmosphere, and the staging plays a huge part in making the world believable. The bunker feels genuinely lived-in. It is cramped, chaotic and suffocating without ever becoming visually dull. In such an intimate venue, the audience feels almost trapped alongside the character, sharing in the confinement and anxiety. There is an immersive quality to the design that works incredibly well for this kind of story. Rather than relying on flashy spectacle, the production builds tension through realism, and it pays off.

What truly anchors the show, though, is Lee’s performance. Carrying an entire production alone is no easy task, particularly one that demands such emotional and physical intensity for almost the full runtime, but Lee is exceptional throughout. His performance never slips into melodrama, even as the character spirals further into desperation and instability. Instead, every acting choice feels specific, controlled and deeply human.

There are moments where Lee’s expressions alone say more than entire sections of dialogue. One second he is trying to maintain routine and control; the next, panic quietly flickers across his face before erupting completely. It is a performance full of detail and unpredictability, and it becomes impossible not to stay locked into his every movement. Even when the script occasionally circles the same emotional beats, Lee finds new ways to keep them engaging.

The show’s structure also works surprisingly well. As a one person musical, there is always the risk of monotony, but The Last Man understands how to pace itself. The music helps divide the narrative into digestible sections, giving the story moments to breathe before plunging back into the bunker’s tension.

Unfortunately, while the songs serve a structural purpose, they rarely leave a lasting musical impression. For a rock musical, the score lacks memorable hooks. None of the songs are actively weak, but few feel distinctive enough to linger afterwards. By the end of the show, I could remember the atmosphere far more vividly than any individual number. The music supports the storytelling effectively in the moment, yet never fully becomes the emotional driving force it perhaps wants to be.

That imbalance is ultimately what keeps The Last Man from reaching greater heights. The production excels visually and dramatically, but the musical aspect feels less fully realised. At times, it almost plays more effectively as a psychological stage thriller with songs woven through it rather than a truly impactful rock musical.

Still, there is plenty here worth praising. The show’s ambition is admirable, and in an era where new musicals can often feel overly polished or formulaic, The Last Man at least takes risks. It commits fully to its strange, bleak little world and trusts its audience to sit in discomfort alongside its protagonist.

Most importantly, it gives Lex Lee the space to deliver a genuinely captivating performance. Even when the music fades from memory, his portrayal does not. By the final moments, what lingers is not necessarily the score, but the image of one person alone in a bunker, trying desperately to hold onto their humanity as the world outside disappears.

The Last Man plays at Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 13th June - tickets and more information can be found here.

★★★☆☆ (3*)

Gifted tickets in return for an honest review | Photography by Rich Lakos