Exit, Pursued by My Past – One Man, Many Ghosts written and performed by Rafe Blackthorne.
One Night Only in Birmingham at the Midlands Arts Centre, Wednesday 7th May. 8.00p.m.
There’s a moment in Exit, Pursued by My Past when Rafe, an actor caught in the ruins of his career and marriage, stands alone on a stage, convinced that something—or someone—is haunting him. It might be a trick of the mind. It might be a trick of the lighting. Or it might be what happens when a man finally runs out of places to hide.
This is a one-man show, but it contains multitudes. Set between the smouldering aftermath of a theatre fire and the emotional wreckage of a life not quite lived the way it should have been, the play is a retrospective, razor-sharp monologue that asks how far a person can go before their past catches up with them. Part mystery, part dark comedy, part elegy for lost chances, Exit, Pursued by My Past is a story about guilt, performance, and the terrifying moment when the act no longer works.
Rafe is not your typical leading man. He’s verbose, clever, occasionally insufferable, and deeply human. We meet him in the aftermath of a narrow escape—quite literally—from a burning West End theatre, during a Houdini-themed stunt that may or may not have been sabotage. As he talks us through the days leading up to that moment, it becomes clear that the fire is only one of many things he’s been trying to escape.
There’s the crumbling marriage to Alison, a woman whose affection remains even after her patience has run out. There’s Pettifer, an old schoolmate turned charming property wheeler-dealer, whose easy banter masks a bitter rivalry dating back decades. There’s Rafe’s father, Archie, a tough Glaswegian who communicates through barbed jokes and half-spoken regrets, and who may hold the key to a long-buried family trauma. And then there’s the theatre itself—half temple, half tomb.
What begins as a story about a failing career turns into a slow unravelling of memory, loss, and legacy. Along the way, there are surreal set pieces: a grumpy stage manager left with a limp following an ironic incident with a mobility scooter, a disastrous date gatecrashed by a furious former understudy, and a humiliating misstep at a press conference that cost Rafe the role of Macbeth and possibly his sanity.
But Exit, Pursued by My Past isn’t just about bitterness or regret. It’s about what we inherit and what we pass on, about the masks we wear even when no one’s watching, and about the moments of real connection that still catch us off guard. It’s also very funny. The show plays with theatrical conventions and character-switching, but never becomes gimmicky. It earns its laughs through character, language, and recognition. In one scene, Rafe mimics a furious cockney muscle bound actor rival, his own father, and a pretentious young director in quick succession—somehow making them all distinct, while holding the emotional thread firmly in hand.
It’s a technically minimal production—just one actor, one voice, a few shifts in lighting—but the emotional scope is anything but small. The play dances between humour and heartbreak, often within the same breath. One moment you’re laughing at Rafe’s scathing impersonation of a pompous theatre critic, and the next you’re realising that he hasn’t spoken to his long-suffering wife in years.
This is a show that respects its audience. It doesn’t spoon-feed the story, and it allows for ambiguity. Who really started the fire? Why did Alison leave? Who was the mysterious figure who rescued Rafe from the flames, only to vanish into the smoke? The answers are revealed slowly, often sideways, and with plenty of space for the audience to draw their own conclusions.
If you’ve ever wondered what happens to the man behind the mask, if you’ve ever felt a moment of clarity in the dark of a theatre, or if you’ve simply loved a story that knows how to balance wit with weight, Exit, Pursued by My Past might be for you.
It’s about grief, but also forgiveness. It’s about ambition, but also acceptance. And yes—there’s a man in a sack dangling over a fire, but that’s just one part of it.
