Sincere, vulnerable coming-of-age musical revue that captures a young artist finding themselves.

Theo Chen is someone you might describe as mature beyond their years. Having developed a lifelong love for musical theatre, singing, and performing from a young age, Theo has never shied away from the stage. There is a sense that they were always one step ahead of their peers in understanding who they were, and in allowing that person to shine openly and unapologetically.

But that self-assuredness did not come without cost. Pretty Ugly makes clear that for all their confidence, Theo has also faced backlash, judgement, and shame, particularly while trying to balance being true to themselves within the confines of a strict society that too often shuts down those who march to the beat of their own drum. It is this tension, between authenticity and acceptance, that has, at times, left Theo feeling pretty… ugly.

Thankfully, Theo has now reached a point in their journey grounded in self-love and self-acceptance. That hard-won comfort forms the emotional backbone of Pretty Ugly, a one-person cabaret in which Theo bares their soul to the audience, sharing stories of learning to love themselves and honouring the people who helped them get there. The result is deeply vulnerable, unguardedly sincere, and, of course, peppered with showtunes from Theo’s favourite musicals.

Directed by Lim Shien Hian, Pretty Ugly is as fringe as it gets, staged at the rarely used *SCAPE L5 Gallery as part of the COMMA Festival. The space itself is not designed for theatre, and the creative team makes no attempt to disguise that fact. Instead, they lean into it and shower it with homeliness: lights are rigged where possible, pillars are dressed with lush evening gowns, and a display of Broadway Playbills collected by Theo adds texture and autobiography, as if a presentation of Theo’s own mind. While the show might have thrived even more in a literal, sultry bar setting, this slightly awkward, slightly “ugly” venue becomes quietly affecting; imperfect, but bursting with personality and lived-in honesty.

As much as it is clearly a show made on a budget, Pretty Ugly draws its strength from earnestness. Theo begins by emerging from the audience, smiling and waving at familiar faces, before standing centre stage in heels and a black velvet evening dress. Their hair is natural, makeup minimal. Theo is not performing a character or a drag persona; they are presenting themselves, polished, perhaps, but fundamentally authentic.

They open by recounting how the show came to be: a lifelong dream of creating a one-person show, dating back to when a twelve-year-old Theo sent an earnest, naïve email to a theatre director. Years later, that dream becomes reality as they launch into “Hot Notes” from Chicago, simultaneously introducing music director Joel Nah at the piano. From the outset, Theo is completely in their element. There is joy in every number, supported by clear vocal training, precise diction, and a confidence that never tips into arrogance.

Pretty Ugly becomes an invitation into Theo’s head and heart. Early on, they guide the audience through a simple exercise: closing our eyes, recalling the last time we felt pretty, or questioning whether we ever have. It is a small gesture, but an effective one, gently shifting the audience into a reflective state that carries through the rest of the performance.

The show refuses a neat chronological structure, instead jumping back and forth through memory, mirroring the unruly way our minds revisit moments of significance. There are painful recollections: a childhood fascination with dress-up and makeup followed by cruel adult laughter; a fleeting Grindr connection that ends in being ghosted; and one of the most heartbreaking anecdotes, where a former best friend led Theo on, first in high school and later during a university visit overseas.

Yet Pretty Ugly is not content to linger in hurt. It is uplifted by moments of reclamation and quiet triumph. Theo speaks of leaving home for the first time in a skirt; of parents who, while never explicitly verbalising acceptance, gently acknowledge their child’s non-binary identity through something as simple as recognising social media handles. They recount refusing a final hug from the friend who hurt them, choosing self-respect over closure. There is also a fleeting, luminous encounter in a New York park, a moment where connection feels possible again, and the world, briefly, feels brighter.

Crucially, Theo never frames their journey as a solitary one. They acknowledge the network of kindred spirits who have buoyed them, including a high school drama teacher who once encouraged them and directed them in a performance of Sondheim’s “The Ladies Who Lunch” from Company, and to do it better than Patti LuPone. It is a moment that neatly encapsulates the show’s ethos: being seen, being affirmed, and being given permission to take up space unapologetically.

Between these stories are, of course, the songs. Even without choreography, Theo commands attention effortlessly. Perched atop a high chair, they shift tone and emotional register with ease — from the melancholic “Skylark” to the restless repetition of “Another Hundred People” from Company. Even small, unguarded moments, a sip from a squirt bottle, an ‘um’ when a thought momentarily breaks, become endearing rather than distracting. Theo is youth in motion: slightly awkward, still figuring things out, but undeniably moving forward.

The most unexpectedly powerful moment of the evening arrives during an interactive audience segment. Theo invites everyone down into the performance space, asking us to pair up with someone of the same gender and slow dance together. What begins in awkward giggles slowly transforms. The lights dim, curtains part to reveal the cityscape beyond, and Theo re-emerges in a turquoise evening gown. A dream prom materialises, fleeting but vivid.

As Theo weaves through the crowd singing Mitski’s “Two Slow Dancers,” they seem utterly in control — grounded, radiant, and finally at ease in their own skin. For a moment, the audience becomes part of the scenery, as if we are extras in Theo’s music video and they are finally centre frame. It is the show at its most confident, most complete, and most emotionally resonant.

This sequence would have made for a near-perfect ending. Instead, the show continues into one final sequence: Theo’s final month in their mother’s old house before its demolition. The scene, which pays tribute to their late grandfather and his quiet strength, is tender and lovingly staged, aided by nostalgic photo slides and a stirring rendition of “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” While affecting in isolation, it slightly diffuses the momentum established by the shared slow-dance sequence, feeling oddly placed after what already felt like a natural emotional climax.

Still, Theo’s charm carries the evening through, with enough confidence and self-deprecating humour in just the right balance. There is a rare quality to their stage presence, an ability to make each audience member feel personally addressed, as though the story is being confided directly to them. That intimacy allows the audience to follow Theo wherever they lead us, culminating in a final communal singalong of “The Best of Times” from La Cage aux Folles, a musical about chosen family, visibility, and joy in defiance. The choice feels pointed and earned, a gentle reminder that happiness, when it comes, is something to be held onto fiercely.

A little messy, but unerringly charming, Pretty Ugly is a warm, generous portrait of a young artist mid-bloom. Not yet fully formed, slightly world-weary after a few hard knocks, but still hopeful, still joyous, and most importantly, finally able to see themselves as worthy of the stage. With the audience firmly on their side, Theo leaves us not only endeared, but invested, eager to see where they go next, and hopeful that this show finds future life on bigger fringe stages, to Camden, to Edinburgh and beyond, where Theo’s sincerity and heart would undoubtedly be well-received and win them new friends and fans.

Photo Credit: Kenneth Sze

Pretty Ugly ran from 16th to 18th Jan 2026 at *SCAPE, L5 Gallery.

Production Credits

Playwright & Performer Theo Chen Director & Producer Shien Hian Lim Rehearsal Music Director Joanne Ho Show Music Director Joel Nah Stage Manager Koh Tzee Yen

.