“Hannah Maxwell returns to the Fringe with one of the most relevant, urgent, and vital shows you will see at the Festival. As she details how her weird, dark, secretive pandemic job in strategic communications changed her perspective and exacerbated her screen addiction, Maxwell weaves a revelatory reflection on our relationship with technology. The gist is: we should be fuming, and frightened, and decisively more proactive when it comes to protect ourselves from the dangers of technofeudalism (if you don’t know what it is, look it up and educate yourself!). In pure Maxwell brand, the show is in itself a truly thrilling, engaging piece of theatre.”
“In other hands, a doom-laden show like this could be heavy and exhausting. Maxwell is a safe bet for ensuring that no such thing is allowed to happen. There are costume changes, funny videos, excellent sound and light design, digital projections, and some properly fun audience participation to lighten the mood. It’s an artfully handled show, energetically and engagingly performed, Maxwell striding an arm length or two from you at any given moment. There’s a chance to show off your geography knowledge, your singing voice, and your charade skills. But most importantly, there’s a chance to reconsider that slim, alluring attention-hound in your pocket. Perhaps it’s time to pick up a hammer and smash things up. At the very least, as Hannah says, when you’re scrolling make sure to chew before you swallow.”
“In a tremendous show, she delivers this analysis with equal parts fervour and merriment. The connections she makes in the audience are a real-world alternative to the online forces trying to tear us apart.”
“I would not be at all surprised to see it have various runs across the country and in London. When it comes to somewhere near you, I strongly recommend going to see it. It was one of the most captivating and thought-provoking shows I have seen in quite a while.”
“Above all, Maxwell is a joy to watch. An endlessly fascinating performer with a dry wit and easy emotionality alongside her intimidating intelligence and unique perspective. And this piece really feels like it comes from a personal place; not only does she have a wealth of experience and anecdotes to build an interesting and topical show, but she cares, deeply and genuinely, about the issue at hand. You believe her when she says that this is her form of activism, taking the art form that she loves and sharpening it into a rallying cry.
Prescient, masterful, and hopeful despite itself, Turn Your F*cking Phones Off is not a lecture, it’s a little bit of magic. They might not read this as they have forsaken social media, but hopefully a kindly producer fancies printing this out to let them know that they are the highlight of my Fringe.”
“It seems a very long way from Maxwell’s loveable first show, I, AmDram, about her family’s devotion to amateur dramatics. And yet, is it? Despite the darkness of the material this is as playful as a kitten. It’s as if documentary maker Adam Curtis has ditched the pretentiousness of his movies for a live, quick-change extravaganza complete with party games.
The result is a live and alive show that, like those sneaky algorithms, works upon us without us realising. In bringing us together to laugh, think and play, Maxwell is staging a theatrical rebellion against those with a vested interest in keeping us glued to our phones.”
“It’s all memorable, entertaining and effortlessly engaging. Random silly TikTok clips flashing onscreen herald scene changes, a dopamine-flaring counterpoint to a play which is urgently instructive about the way your tech spies on and manipulates you for the malign purposes of enemy governments and tech billionaires.
While Maxwell’s right that tech is a problem humanity needs to solve before it can solve any other, this is a show which gets that point across with no small amount of hope, laughter and human connection. It’s the perfect way to cut through the endless scroll. “
“Turn Your Fucking Phones Off is a remarkably empathetic work. A topic that could have felt scolding becomes an inspiring call to action in Maxwell’s capable hands. It helps that they are aware of their own susceptibility to the algorithm’s machinations. The show is structured in a way that both aids our internet-fried brains and brings us closer together, with scene transitions becoming group karaoke sessions and games of charades. Maxwell’s optimism is a breath of fresh air amid the daily doomscrolling drudge. They remind us that we can resist the endless flood of outrage and hatred. What we have to do is right there in the title.”
“This is theatre that understands that form is argument. The way the audience is asked to behave is part of what the work is saying. The theatre becomes a temporary intervention into our habitual patterns of looking, scrolling, recording and consuming.
And underneath all the intellectual playfulness is a rather beautiful proposition: perhaps attention is an act of care.”
“Maxwell is brilliant, commanding the room while pulling the audience willingly into the chaos. Fans of her previous work will also spot little throwbacks, particularly to, I AmDram. For me, having previously experienced Babyfleareindeerbag, there was something wonderfully full-circle about watching this latest creation come to fruition.”
This is exactly what Fringe theatre should do: experiment with form, challenge its audience and leave you wondering what the fuck just happened, while desperately wanting more.”
”Turn Your F*cking Phones Off is a compelling reflection on the addictive appeal of mobile phones. Maxwell mixes dialogue, narration, documentary-worthy fact finding and frank regret for her own wasted time with captions demarcating scenes alongside an eclectic array of inane and then alarmingly apocalyptic film footage (Benji Huntrods). The script’s construct artfully embodies our wrecked attention spans as we hunt the next dopamine hit. And her frantic, funny delivery is wholly endearing.”
"Hannah Maxwell’s fourth Fringe show is her finest yet. Inspired by her experiences working for a shady company in Whitehall, it entertainingly explores the disturbing ways in which society is being manipulated via social media and smartphones, its restlessly imaginative format - Maxwell incorporates Bond jokes, audience games, TikTok reels, and more - an adroit reflection of our diminishing attention spans. I didn’t review it, but I would have given it five stars if I had. Summerhall has added extra late-night shows in its Main Hall this weekend. There is no news of a transfer to London or elsewhere yet but there definitely will be.”
Turn Your F*cking Phones Off at Summerhall comes with Maxwell’s trademark mix of playfulness and thoughtfulness. It draws on Maxwell’s experience of working in government strategic communications to explore what happens when our attention is hacked on a worldwide scale; how we lose human connection.
The genius of the piece is the way it artfully uses theatre to bring us together and connect us by making us play together in a way the tech bros and the billionaires who want to keep us glued to the algorithms won’t like at all. This show is a small act of rebellion, a lighthouse of optimism blinking in the dark.
“Should she come back to Edinburgh next year with a cutesy show about her dad or does the idea lack a tragic undertow? Maybe a poetic drama about falling in love with a singer who wrote a song reflecting on their relationship? If that sounds too schmaltzy, would an angry polemic about conspiracy theories pull in the crowds? In this funny, delightfully meta show, we get to sample all three and to share our opinions.
Ironically, the best marketing tool turns out to be a catchy title. Thanks to the name, Babyfleareindeerbag is a hit whether she likes it or not.”
“Ultimately, this fast-paced and mind-boggling hour of theatre/stand-up/storytelling/karaoke/group discussion is a searing indictment of the state of the world, and the current theatre landscape. Maxwell lays bare the situation of many brilliant creators who are good enough to be critically lauded and access the limited funding that is available to them, but who are constrained by audiences who can’t afford to take a punt on someone who isn’t already famous.
Put bluntly, this production is incredible. I have rarely seen a performer with more eloquence, intelligence, charisma, and raw vulnerability. Whatever Maxwell does next, wherever she does it, I will be sat in the front row.
“What makes a hit Fringe show? It’s a drizzly Edinburgh morning, and I’m part of an impromptu focus group considering the question at the request of performer Hannah Maxwell. We’re gathered in a tiny former locker room in the bowels of Summerhall, scribbling our answers on brightly coloured Post-it notes stuck on the wall. “Word of mouth”, of course. “Scandal” – why not? And, in smaller writing, twice: “Trauma”.
Maxwell’s audaciously named new Edinburgh show Babyfleareindeerbag is an interactive, thrillingly honest insight into the brutal logic of the Fringe machine.”
“Maxwell’s self-deprecating wit is a fizzy delight, but it cleverly masks a spiral of self-doubt and criticism that begins to creep into the show, as feedback options provided on her middle-management-style PowerPoint go from the mildly constructive to the outright hostile. Is it possible, BABYFLEAREINDEERBAG asks, to maintain a sense of self-belief as an artist amidst the structural disinterest of a failing arts landscape, and the siren call of the Autobiographical Show Industrial Complex that defines the Fringe’s few successes?
What does it do to a person to continually have to sell themselves, particularly when no one seems to want to buy? Almost certainly nothing good, but watching Maxwell convey this through her deft and hilarious manipulation of genre and media is an (admittedly somewhat guilt-ridden) giddy ride. The Fringe may be eating itself but BABYFLEAREINDEERBAG is a compellingly delicious refusal to beg for a seat at the table.”
Hannah Maxwell’s meta exploration of confessional TV shows like Fleabag & Baby Reindeer, and finding success in performance, is a triumph!
Maxwell – acclaimed singer, performer and am-dram enthusiast – scratches deeper than fringe shows usually dare. This brutally honest but hilarious show initially plays out as a cheeky, gently interactive premise of audience focus group asked to identify a guaranteed hit fringe show from three possible themes
Maxwell is the unmissable performer at this year’s fringe – and look out for a TV spin off a la Fleabag (ooh the irony).
“Bright theatrical spark Hannah Maxwell returns with a show that explores her own and the theatre’s current propensity for over-sharing stories of personal trauma and why we, the arts and TV, are so hooked on these real-life stories. Maxwell’s work is always thoughtful, genuinely witty, and unexpected, so this should be a real treat.”
“Funny and savvy Hannah Maxwell takes the TV-show trope of smash-hit oversharing like in Baby Reindeer and deals with its consequences.”
“A few days later, I watched Hannah Maxwell’s poignant new work in progress babyfleareindeerbag. Within the show, she explains how past fringes have offered critical praise but little else. Now, in 2025, Maxwell despairingly acknowledges how a cleverly titled show referencing Netflix’s most controversial drama finally won her full houses – but she will still make a loss.”
“Hannah Maxwell has had two fringe hits, and here’s how. Firstly, get Phoebe Waller-Bridge in the audience. Maxwell’s 2023 hit Nan, Me and Barbara Pravi became a runaway success after Waller-Bridge pitched up to see it. Then, secondly, mischievously call your follow-up show babyfleareindeerbag. Maxwell has done both.
This year, Maxwell – always such an intelligent, self-reflective theatremaker – has been back at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with a show that was a sell-out before she even arrived, even though it’s a work in progress. She wryly points out that calling your show babyfleareindeerbag is clearly the trick.
But Maxwell’s clever piece, which casts the audience as a focus group for a future fringe show, raises some uncomfortable questions about the fringe, what success means and whether fringe success really does translate into future opportunity, future audiences and sustaining a future life as an artist. Because if the fringe doesn’t do that, even for its most successful shows, then is it a risk too far? Is it worth all the pain?”
“This isn’t a show with an easy elevator pitch, but watch it and its appeal is obvious. […] Maxwell’s got a suave, appealingly old-fashioned performance style, masking this story’s emotional sharp edges with jokes and showmanship. But eventually, her mask slips. This show is about so many things — caring for an elderly relative, infatuation, addiction — but ultimately it’s about one thing, which is learning to see patterns in your own behaviour, and beginning the painstaking work of unravelling them.”
“A true masterclass in storytelling. Hannah Maxwell’s one-woman show is both endearingly funny and cripplingly sad. […] Maxwell is an absolute pleasure to watch: she has a way of filling the room and a gentle cheekiness […] Her storytelling is stirringly evocative but, despite the mundane subject matter, never dull. […] It’s delivered with such a bite that you’ll be thinking about it for days – a truly incredible hour that takes you by surprise and doesn’t let go.”
“WHAT a wonderful way to spend an hour at the Fringe […] Hannah Maxwell’s solo production is amusing, belly achingly funny at times, with a poignancy towards the end that leaves the audience sad for her. […] The script is brilliantly written and Hannah Maxwell is stunning on stage. There is that old quote that some actors can fill a stage. Well, Maxwell could stand on the stage of the Old Vic and fill the stage with her presence, the auditorium too. She really is that good. This is an outstanding production, beautiful, funny and sad. Get tickets is my advice. You won’t be disappointed I guarantee you.”
“Hannah Maxwell is such a likeable performer that you are on her side throughout the ups and downs of the show. She avoids the pitfalls of being mawkish or melodramatic and tells the story in a totally believable and relatable way. In lesser hands the storyline could have been bleak but there is so much fun in the telling with the perfect ending that you do leave the venue feeling that you have just seen something life-affirming. I absolutely loved the show and highly recommend it to anyone who likes top quality storytelling and performance. You will laugh, you will cry. You will be glad you are alive.”
“Hilarious and very poignant one person show […] Maxwell’s show is superbly comedic, and there’s a very natural rapport with the audience […] What starts as a love letter to Eurovision becomes a love letter to oneself. Hannah Maxwell and Nan, Me and Barbara Pravi triumphs in this contest scoring douze points across the board.”
“Maxwell stages an often sweet, sometimes tragic, and always side-splittingly funny meditation on points of crisis across both life and death. Comparisons to Fleabag are perhaps inevitable, both because of the sharpness of Maxwell’s writing and Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s now infamous attendance of the show, but Nan, Me & Barbara Pravi is a slightly different animal - more chaotic, more precise, and unafraid of its own absurdity. […] It’s all so delightful and clever, deploying and subverting various generic conventions […] to consider how confessional theatre can not only develop but transcend the rigidity of the monologue form.”
“A show about care, crisis and the Eurovision song contest might sound like an odd mash-up of themes, but this is Maxwell’s forte. She turns a wry, Gen Z eye to serious subjects, wrapped up in a relatable and entertaining narrative. A warm-hearted, insightful and inspirational exploration of the need to care – for others, and for ourselves – in these crisis-ridden times. With jokes.”
“Celebrity endorsement fully justified in a piece that times its revelations to perfection […] Maxwell’s writing is electric, witty and charmingly delivered, efficiently bringing audiences into the intricacies of her character’s daily life while withholding just the right amount of information to be chaotically revealed later. The script is laden with jokes and silliness, but tender moments are expertly handled, while audience participation and slick use of projector screens to visualise surreal episodes all contribute to the show’s overall genius.”
“Hannah Maxwell’s solo show is delivered with verve and endearing bravery. […] Maxwell has a bracing, always sharply entertaining turn of phrase and a irresistible presence. […] Maxwell embarks on a mission to meet the object of her desire and sets about it with a precision that suggests that theatre’s gain is MI5’s loss.”
“If there’s one word that could be used to describe Maxwell’s performances, it’s probably verve. There’s a bone-deep showmanship to her performance that never drops away […] A major strength of this production is how polished it is without sacrificing vulnerability. It manages to have moments of bruised self-reflection and pure, unabashed comedic performance, and both feel perfectly in place. […] This is a rich and bright character study shot through with both humour and sadness. Consider me a fan.”
“Productions like these are extremely hard to come by. It’s nebulous – that thing whereby someone does or says enough, but not too much. It’s enough to evoke an emotional reaction but not overdo it to the extent it becomes saccharine. But Hannah Maxwell nailed it. And in the words of Barbara Pravi: Voilà.”
“Nan, Me & Barbara Pravi is for anyone who has ever looked after someone, for anyone who has ever developed a crush on a famous person, for lovers and non-lovers of Eurovision alike. If you’re into great theatre, this is a must see. We’d give it douze points if we could, but will have to settle for 5 croissants instead.”
“As the lights dimmed and the show began, I was completely engrossed. The pacing was just right, allowing the story to unfold naturally, and the structure was well-crafted, keeping me enthralled. […] one of the must-see shows of the Fringe.”
“Themes of repression, grief and addiction are rarely presented in such an engaging and entertaining way. The comedy is fulsome, the tragedy is harsh, but the visceral determination to rise and shine is breathtaking. An inspiring work so well done you’ll barely notice how profoundly engaged you’ve been until it’s over. This is premium theatre at a bargain price, five, glossy, victorious stars.”
“The writing is smart, the performance electric, and the dream sequences are so vivid they almost feel real. Then, just when it seems like she’s wrapped it all up, she unleashes a final song in flawless French that leaves everyone holding their breath: what a way to end a show. With humour, heart and a full dose of theatrical magic, Nan, Me & Barbara Pravi is wild, ridiculous, moving and the kind of theatre that lingers long after the lights go up.”
“Hannah Maxwell is a future star and deserves full houses. She is an outstanding funny woman, a Generation Z Caroline Aherne!”
“Deceptively simple, beautifully constructed and delivered with real skill.”
— ☆☆☆☆☆ The Adelaide Advertiser
“Theatre-maker Hannah Maxwell delves deep into her family’s passion for amateur dramatics in this joyful, perceptive solo show […] I, AmDram is cleverly written and full of deadpan humour […] The show is so finely pitched that she sends up some aspects of am dram mercilessly […] yet never loses her respect for those who give it their heart and soul. […] This is an honest, compassionate and often very funny look at how to break free from your roots, while still celebrating what they’ve given you.”
“Surprising and uplifting story about how an amateur dramatics society helped shape one young woman […] I, AmDram is Hannah Maxwell's very touching story about how she fits into her family heritage as a millennial lesbian. […] I, AmDram is also a romp through the show tunes of yesteryear and Hannah's ingenious move is staging a show with both contemporary and classic music, which has been designed to cleverly appeal to audiences that like show tunes, and young millennial audiences too. […] This is a heartfelt and deeply moving tribute to the power of theatre to unite generations of one family, despite their differences.”
“Very smart little show about legacy, lineage, coming out and going home. […] Very nicely put together, very engaging and layered.”
“Hannah Maxwell has a rare and instant likeability.”
“I almost lose my goddamn mind laughing […] She plays out her family’s voices, discussions and arguments using different riffs on the piano, in a super-tight piece of dramaturgy which I’m transfixed by. […] I, AmDram is a hilarious ode to the institution of AmDram, to passion and to families, both biological and forged in fire and folk art.”
“An engrossing story, and one that is delivered with great sensitivity and skill.”
"A pitch-perfect confessional show […] The one-hour show was pure joy and I could easily have enjoyed another sixty minutes in her company. Her script and performance were deftly balanced between painful nostalgia and family pride. At its root was a journey – both physical and emotional. Maxwell took us on the train ride from London KX to Welwyn and each stop provided a kind of scenic break in the narrative. An inspired idea. […] Maxwell packed her hour with hilarious impersonations of her AmDram past and moments of pure theatre. […] It was all choreographed with pinpoint accuracy; there were laugh out loud moments but also many with thoughtful insights. Admire or hate Amdram, you will love this show. "
— Mike Levy, The Cambridge Critque
“This is sublime, one-person theatre made all the more enjoyable due to Maxwell’s comic delivery and winks to the audience.”