In the Upstairs studio space, we arrive in the People’s Republic of Koka Kola, formerly the UK, a hilariously lurid police state where freedoms are acutely curtailed and consumer capitalism is totally dominant. Lighting design by Anna Watson is equally impressive, with LED giving neon vibes and more haze than a Jimi Hendrix concert. In this Happy Meal dystopia, everything – from cities, to train lines, to armies – is owned and branded by big corporations. Amaka Okafor’s Lor is convincingly passionate, and the women are well supported by Nima Taleghani’s Ali and Felix Scott’s Wayne.

Ali and Isla fall for each other and along the way the threesome find themselves unwittingly kidnapping Wayne – it turns out none have the stomach for cold blooded murder. If you would benefit from knowing more about specific content and themes in Hope has a Happy Meal, please read our list below. There is also something very allusive in his writing: the mention of Strawberry Fields commune brings to mind the Beatles song “Eleanor Rigby” when, some time later, it becomes evident that we are dealing with a situation that could be described as “all the lonely people, where do they all come from? The carnival inspired set is designed by Naomi Dawson and attempts to encapsulate the madness of the world, but doesn’t quite pull it off because the text doesn’t delve deeply enough into the metaphor of capitalism as a circus. The central image of a quest by assorted misfits who, despite some bouts of bad temper or depression, are shown to be good people (more or less) suggests the play’s politics of small-scale resistance.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a show at The Royal Court with a weak cast, and Hope has a Happy Meal is no different.

Laura Checkley as protagonist Hope is endearing, down to earth and funny, especially when she busts out the dance moves. The reveal to Hope’s backstory isn’t as interesting as the shenanigans that preceded it, and we never discover what has motivated her to come back at this particular moment. Nevertheless, Fowler never loses his finely tuned sense of humour, leavening out the more overwrought moments with a welcome wryness.

We don’t want to spoil anyone’s experience of a new play at the Royal Court and therefore we avoid giving too much away when promoting the play. When Hope befriends Isla, a young woman raising her baby nephew, the two quickly find themselves on the run. The People’s Republic of Koka Kola is a dystopian capitalist cess pit – a country which used to be a democracy and is now dominated by the most powerful brands representing the most extreme form of capitalism.

The second half is a skip through the months living together in the commune, dealing with humorous practicalities of keeping a hostage in the basement (someone’s got to empty the bucket), and watching Hope rekindle her frosty sisterly relationship with Lor. In this world, the old alternative communes have vanished, forests have been poisoned into sick wilderness, and Ronald McDonald bestrides the globe. When protagonist Hope lands at Nike International Airport after 24 years abroad, she knows everything has changed. At the very least you will have a brilliant couple of hours of theatrical entertainment with clowns, knives, guns, beautifully raw emotional dialogue, great performances, and some exquisite nightclub dancing.He gives the actors lots to work with, and Royal Court Associate Director Lucy Morrison adds physical flair and playfulness to the piece. The playtext has subtle references to the long tradition of new writing, by Caryl Churchill, Sarah Kane and Simon Stephens — as well more recent plays by Alistair McDowall and Rory Mullarkey. And there is a lot to enjoy in Lucy Morrison’s energetic and often funny production, whose set by Naomi Dawson is versatile enough to host what is in effect a Thelma-and-Louise-style road movie lit up by the neon glare of American culture, with a kinda Big Lebowski vibe.

On their way to find the Strawberry Fields commune of Hope’s youth, they are joined by redundant forest ranger Ali, but things soon get very complicated. There are some fantastical moments, including a bizarre gameshow hosted by a makeshift Ronald McDonald which doesn’t add anything, and some soap opera drama cliches are thrown into the plot (think Chekhov’s gun) which don’t feel fully earned. This is a shame because it’s an intriguing conceit, and could have been developed further, but there are too many ideas packed into this play that don’t get fully realised, and Hope’s journey to find her son understandably takes precedence because it is a human – and relatable – story. Isla’s sister was murdered by an abusive partner, and she is harbouring the couple’s child – on the run from relentlessly evil father, Wayne. Disney Quarry, Facebook Forest, and BP Nature Reserve all feature on her surreal, tragic, and redemptive journey via Koka Kola Railways.It's an opening that works by holding its nerve, building up the humour by leaving us not knowing where it’s going. In the end I found it playful but not an effective critique of capitalism, nor a particularly hopeful piece about redemption, nor a strong rejection or message about police brutality or domestic abuse. Now, Lor’s once thriving commune, not so subtly named ‘Strawberry Fields’, has failed, and its stalwart is suffering from alcohol addiction. Perhaps its strongest message is about community togetherness and the power of people, though it never doubles down. A surreal and frenetic quest through a hyper-capitalist country, Tom Fowler's play Hope has a Happy Meal premiered at the Royal Court Theatre, London, in June 2023, directed by Lucy Morrison, in a co-production with SISTER.