Land of Our Fathers (Venue Cymru, Llandudno)

Land of Our Fathers is set on Thursday, May 3rd, 1979. Or rather, the story begins on that day. It's more accurate to say that Land of Our Fathers is set throughout May 1979, because the protagonists are six South Walian coal miners trapped hundreds of feet beneath ground following a colliery accident. It's a chamber piece boasting a bland but beautifully realised set (well done Signe Beckman) and six wonderfully written characters. But is the story strong enough to hold the attention for two and a half hours?

A play this long needs to have enough twists and turns to really demand the attention of the audience, and indeed Land of Our Fathers does have its fair share of soapy revelations and melodrama. I'm not altogether sure what does happen warrants such a taxing duration; it could have been shorter without much damage to the plot. Some might say the play is as much an endurance test for those watching as being trapped beneath ground for days on end is for the miners. That's one way of looking at it. But to be honest, the audience is not trapped down a mine and might appreciate a little more brevity.

My People (Theatr Clwyd, Mold)

Pic: Catherine Ashmore

"There is no Wales to speak of, no real national life: no art, no dance, no folklore; no literature... except for the foolish mouthing of its preachers."

So said Caradoc Evans, writer of My People and once (and, for some, perhaps still) the "most hated man in Wales". Evans's short stories, published 100 years ago, portrayed life in Nonconformist Wales for what he believed it really was - hypocritical, stunted, short-sighted and ultimately self-deceived. He saw the power that the chapels of Wales had over their congregations - who, remember, were far greater in number then than today - as limiting to people's spiritual development. Without the luxury of self-expression and the freedom to lead life as one chooses (rather than by the rigid guidelines of organised religion), the Welsh culture could not develop or grow, and may never be a part of the wider world around it.

Pomona (Royal Exchange, Manchester)

Every time I catch a Metrolink tram between Salford Quays and Manchester city centre, I'm fascinated by the stop at Pomona. It's an empty, soulless, despairing place. Nobody ever gets on, and nobody ever gets off. The tram stops, waits a few seconds, then continues on its way. Nobody is ever seen there, and there's barely any movement beyond tumbling litter and the occasional disorientated pigeon.

Pomona is a lonesome place in the heart of Manchester which seems to exist outside of normal reality. There's just nothing there, apart from graffiti-scrawled walls and what appear to be empty office blocks. And it's this same experience that inspired 28-year-old Alistair McDowall to write Pomona, which has won him a London Evening Standard Theatre Award nomination for Most Promising Playwright.

Little Shop of Horrors (Theatr Clwyd, Mold)

Pics: Catherine Ashmore

Staging something as wacky and raucous as Little Shop of Horrors is an ambitious venture for any theatrical company. You need big sets, big costumes, big talents, and bigger and bigger props. It can't be cheap to put on a show like this, and I imagine this production has stretched the Mold theatre's coffers and creativity to the limits, but thankfully they really pull it off.

Little Shop has a chequered history. Most people have seen or heard of the 1986 Hollywood film starring Rick Moranis and Steve Martin, and some people might be aware that director Frank Oz based that film on the 1982 stage musical by Alan Menken and Howard Ashman. But there must be very few people who realise that back in 1960, there was a cheap non-musical film version directed by the king of B-flicks, Roger Corman. It starred nobody you've heard of, but did feature a 23-year-old Jack Nicholson in a bit part.

Dirty Dancing (Venue Cymru, Llandudno)

It felt like I was the only person in the audience who hadn't seen the film, but I'm sure that wasn't true because there were other men there too. Sure, the men were outnumbered by the women 10-1, but I bet a fair few of those men had seen the Dirty Dancing film under duress, or had acquired knowledge of it by osmosis.

Because Dirty Dancing is seriously big for women of a certain age. Along with Ghost and Pretty Woman, it's one of those films they completely lose themselves in, just like men do with Star Wars or Rocky or Top Gun. So although I expected to be surrounded by a majority of ladies when I went to see Dirty Dancing ("The Classic Story on Stage"), I wasn't quite prepared for the unadulterated excitement and passion that I witnessed. It was exhilarating!

The lady next to me was reciting whole passages of dialogue, word for word, verbatim, as they were spoken on stage (thankfully, her husband kept shushing her). The row behind me was very excited before the curtain lifted, swapping memories of the classic 1987 movie, and giving their thoughts about Patrick Swayze (I eventually had to tune out as these thoughts were getting a little too racy!).

Interview with artist Sue Williams about Throb

This is an earlier version of a feature first published on October 2nd, 2015 by Arts Scene in Wales

The barriers we put up between ourselves and those we love when it comes to sex are the subject of an ambitious new multi-form work called Throb which has been five years in the making.

But it's not just barriers that visual artist Sue Williams is interested in – she's also fascinated about breaking down those barriers, and examining the communication (or sometimes, lack of) between the genders when it comes to sex.

Sue is teaming up with other creatives to make Throb an innovative, exploratory, challenging project combining her own paintings and drawings with the work of award-winning poet Rhian Edwards, the choreography of Romain Guion and Marta Zollet, and the musicianship of composer Pete Wyer. Also integral to the creation and direction of Throb is cardiologist Dr Nick Ossei-Gerning, whose expertise is the taboo subject of erectile dysfunction.

All My Sons (Theatr Clwyd, Mold)

Pic: Catherine Ashmore

When Arthur Miller's All My Sons made its stage debut in 1947, it must have been at its rawest and most powerful for audiences. Taking the subject of war profiteering and the effect conflict has on families, the play was as relevant as it would ever be. Almost 60 years later, those themes can still be applied to more modern conflicts - from Vietnam to Afghanistan - but the post-World War Two setting remains the ace up its sleeve.

Three years ago, businessman Joe Keller was exonerated after being charged with knowingly shipping damaged aircraft engine cylinder heads from his factory, which ultimately led to the deaths of 21 pilots. His business partner Steve Deever took the blame and was jailed, but during the trial maintained that Keller was just as responsible for the deaths, having been made aware of the faulty parts in a telephone call. That telephone call could not be proven in court, and Keller claimed he was ill with pneumonia at the time.