Last year, Noah Marullo directed Harmony at White Bear Theatre, which was written by and starred Sam Thorpe-Spinks, with the show being the first production of Grub Street Theatre, which Noah is the founder of, and also at White Bear Theatre, he played Wristwatch/Fallen Angel in The Nethernauts. Noah is a tutor at The Actors’ Workshop and was the assistant director of Macbeth in 2024, and he has previously toured with The Dukes Theatre Company as Malvolio in Twelfth Night. In The Time Machine: A Comedy, Noah understudied all three characters, and the production was nominated at the 2024 Olivier Awards for Outstanding Achievement in Affiliate Theatre. Further stage projects for Noah include playing Algernon in The Importance of Being Earnest and Cassio in Othello, both with Changeling Theatre, and he graduated from Guildhall School of Music and Drama in 2021. As a screen actor, Noah is part of the new BBC drama series Babies, which stars Paapa Essiedu, Siobhán Cullen, Jack Bannon and Charlotte Riley, and the show is created and written by Stefan Golazsewski, who also directed the series. As a child actor, Noah played Gus Carmichael in Tracy Beaker Returns, working alongside Dani Harmer, Connor Byrne and Richard Wisker in the popular CBBC show, and he also played the character in The Dumping Ground, leaving in the first series. At the start of his acting career, Noah played Billy in the Channel 4 black comedy series Free Agents and was in the cast of the 2008 feature film Last Chance Harvey, where he worked alongside Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson. Speaking with us, we found out from Noah about his directorial debut with Harmony for Grub Street Theatre, being in the casts of The Time Machine: A Comedy and The Importance of Being Earnest, filming for new BBC drama series Babies and his time as Gus Carmichael in Tracy Beaker Returns.
As the founder of Grub Street Theatre, can you tell us about the company and what encouraged you to set it up?
Grub Street really began like a lot of things – slightly by accident. I’d been involved in a few grassroots projects as an actor, and then, through a small twist of luck, a group of us suddenly had access to a theatre space, so we just grabbed it. That instinct – to say yes and make something – has more or less defined the company ever since.
The grubby title actually refers to what is now Milton Street – where Guildhall stands and where we all met. It was later renamed, loosely after John Milton, in what feels like an early bit of cultural damage control – distancing itself from Grub Street. At the time, it was known for housing impoverished artists churning out work – quickly, cheaply, and not always brilliantly. Something rough or a bit rubbish might be dismissed as “a bit Grub Street”, which I’ve always quite liked… even if it does make us sound like we run a burger van.
Since then, we’ve continued to put on shows, develop work, and build towards something longer-term. The work tends to come from whatever we stumble upon – new writing like Harmony, classical texts, or more experimental things. At the moment, I’m elbows-deep in papier mâchĂ©, making masks for a new piece we’re developing.
The guiding instinct is to make the audience feel alive – implicated, complicit, and provoked. That can sound lofty, but I’m currently crafting a particularly bulbous nose in the hope it gets a laugh. I’m excited by what’s possible – one day I’d love to tackle The Two Noble Kinsmen, and the next do a clown show set in Penge.
More than anything though, the company is driven by actors. The most exciting thing for me is always what happens in the room – what actors discover, and how that can be shaped into something shared with an audience.
For your first produced show with Grub Street Theatre, you directed Harmony (written by and starring Sam Thorpe-Spinks) at White Bear Theatre last year, how did you find the experience making your directorial debut with the production?
I remember a close friend of mine saying that directing is a lonely job, and I think there’s truth in that. Opening night felt very different to acting – I know the nerves, the sense of stepping into something, the intense release of an entire pent-up rehearsal period bursting into performance. Directing is odd; it’s the sense of letting the child carry on cycling in front.
I love actors. I always look to see what they’re seeing on stage. My feeling is that if an actor is truly specific, the audience will see the same thing. That became a kind of anchor for the process – a way of building something that could allow that to happen every night, in a different way.
Our actors – Sam, Isla (Lee) and Ross (Carswell) – gave everything of themselves to that run, and I was lucky to be surrounded by a creative team who trusted me, and who I trusted in return. It didn’t feel like a solo act; it felt like a group of people committing fully to the same thing.
It will always be a special project for me, because it’s where I learned some of my first real lessons in directing – about trust, about letting go, and about shaping something that feels both entertaining and provoking for an audience.
Can you tell us about your work with The Actors’ Workshop, where you are a tutor and were the assistant director on Macbeth in 2024?
Yes – this is the training ground. For me as much as for them. The Actors’ Workshop has been going for about 20 years and has a remarkably strong track record of getting young actors into our top drama schools.
I’ve always felt that if I didn’t teach, I couldn’t direct – and I couldn’t teach if I couldn’t act. The three things feel completely intertwined. I work with students in much the same way I would with professional actors: guiding them towards risk, towards following impulses, towards listening – and then grounding that in craft, in text work, in something that can hold.
I remember one student grabbing me by the scruff of the shirt and delivering the tennis ball speech from Henry V. He’s a tall lad, and I could see in his eyes that all he saw was the Dauphin – and he was doing everything he could to change how the Dauphin saw him. I feared for my life that day.
Moments like that happen often, and there’s not much that comes close to it – it’s incredibly affirming, and it constantly reminds me why the work matters.
How was it taking on the roles of Wristwatch/Fallen Angel in The Nethernauts at White Bear Theatre and was there anything that drew you to the show?
Tom Kane is a wonderful actor and writer who’s created a mad, dense set of plays in which a Fortune 500 company, just after the 2008 crash, stumbles into limbo – a purgatory between heaven and hell – and proceeds to build a hotel-casino complex, effectively colonising the underworld. He’s written three so far, with plans for many more. He’s a genius.
What’s extraordinary is the level of detail. He seems to have a deep knowledge of different cultures and mythologies, so as this group of fusty proto-tech bros begin to seize “the liminal”, they’re confronted by a whole range of belief systems: Greek cyclopes, Indian gods, Milton’s angels. The idea is that each of these encounters is staged through the theatrical language of that culture – puppetry, mask work, heightened text – which makes it incredibly rich to perform.
I felt very lucky to be part of it. My character, Wristwatch, was somewhere between Tim from The Office and one of the siblings from Succession.
The thing I look for most in a writer is that first encounter with the text – whether the character begins to reveal themselves immediately. Tom writes living, breathing characters, which I think comes from him being such an outstanding actor himself.
I’d love to see the plays grow – they feel like they could become even bigger and more daring.
What was it like touring with The Duke’s Theatre Company as Malvolio in Twelfth Night and how was it being part of a William Shakespeare play?
Ah – the steward Malvolio. There are certain characters who follow you around like a ghost. I hold Malvolio very dearly.
Twelfth Night is stupidly good – I’m sure I’m not the first person to say that. When King Charles I saw it, all that’s written in his Folio is “Malvolio”, and I think that’s a real key into the play. Malvolio fights to be the centre of the story, but sadly is simply unaware that he isn’t. If only he knew that many of the other characters are also directly contacting the audience. I feel that is a delusion that is very, very human.
I was lucky enough to be in a production that wanted a young, viable Malvolio – it’s usually an older man – which keyed into the idea that it’s his social class that makes it such a ridiculous thought that Olivia could ever love him. In many ways, that magnified the tragic side of the story.
Malvolio has, I believe, the longest single soliloquy with the audience – my God, that was hard to wrestle with night after night. I think I learned more out there, failing, twisting, and riding waves with the audience, than any book on how to perform Shakespeare could teach. These plays were written with the assumption of broad daylight – everything is laid bare, and when the characters speak, they speak directly with the audience.
Shakespeare makes the audience complicit in all that follows. The audience wills Malvolio on to completely and utterly humiliate himself, but does nothing to stop the proceedings when he is being abused. It’s ultimately tragic, and it culminates in “I’ll be revenged on the whole pack of you”. That pack consists of Olivia, the Fool, Sir Toby – and the entire audience.
I could see it in people’s eyes – those who rooted for him felt guilt, and those who disapproved felt something like remorse. I’ll always carry that with me.
What did you enjoy most about being the understudy in The Time Machine: A Comedy, which was nominated at the 2024 Olivier Awards for Outstanding Achievement in Affiliate Theatre, and what do you feel you learnt from understudying different characters?
Being an understudy requires a lot of restraint, and a lot of readiness. The Time Machine was a three-hander farce where, once the characters entered the stage, they never left. I understudied all three.
I learned a huge amount about craft and form through that process. Watching someone like Dave Hearn act – play, find the joke – was like watching a scientist. There seem to be instinctive laws to comedy that he and the other actors have developed over many years. They would talk about the play afterwards like a piece of music – if you leave that beat a fraction longer, the joke three lines later lands stronger.
My job was to absorb everything and be ready for when the day came. And the day did come – and then it came again. At one point, I was going on night after night.
It was a profound experience, and I’m very grateful to have had it. I even got a few laughs.
Can you tell us about your time playing Algernon in The Importance of Being Earnest and Cassio in Othello with Changeling Theatre?
This was my first ever job out of drama school. It was a pretty intense ask immediately, and I had to get up to speed quickly with the demands of professional acting. Touring companies like Changeling Theatre are real gold dust for the industry – they’re some of the last vestiges where young actors can cut their teeth on demanding text and characters. It felt like a glimpse of what rep companies must have been like.
Algernon is a wonderful role – eccentric, impulsive, irreverent (as is Wilde himself). I learned through that experience that the entire craft of acting is about getting yourself into a readiness for not knowing. All the release work physically, all the structural work on the text, presence work – it’s all so that when you walk on stage, you have no idea what you’re going to do. You have to be close to your impulse.
When we opened, I fixed. I was terrified to explore in the way I had in rehearsal. I deadened my impulses and started anticipating. I was fortunate that my director, Rob (Forknall), trusted me – he brought me back to the uncomfortable reality that the beauty of theatre is that it’s live. You must simply play the moment you’re in, and no other. That was the release that young actor needed, and I enjoyed those performances of Algernon deeply.
Cassio – I’ll be brief. And if another actor who’s played Cassio ever comes across this, they’ll understand. Some characters you give your all to; you treat their stolen moments on stage with everything in you – and yet the actors playing Othello, Desdemona, Emilia and Iago get all the flowers. Cassio, in many ways, is a function for the play – and that’s showbiz, baby.
I will say this: I did manage to be genuinely sick on stage in a drinking scene where Cassio can’t handle his pint. An accidental gag reflex gone wrong – I had eaten a full packet of tangy cheese Doritos beforehand. What a mistake.
What was it like training at Guildhall School of Music & Drama, from which you graduated in 2021?
It’s funny – the idea of drama school breaking you down and building you back up again feels quite taboo now. I’m not sure if that was ever a myth, or something more quietly understood behind closed doors. Maybe if you do three years of anything, new habits will replace old ones, but what I will say is that I was changed on a molecular level by that building.
I was fortunate enough to train with a group of teachers who had, together, developed a deep understanding of the craft, and yet were all completely individual in how they approached it – something of an old guard. It felt like something that had been passed down through generations, and when you were there, you felt part of something beyond simply preparing for the industry.
I will always be indebted to what I learned – day by day, hour by hour – alongside people who were giving every fibre of themselves to the work. I still think about those lessons frequently. In some ways, moments from last week feel further away than those rooms do.
It wasn’t always easy, of course. But I go back to it often, and carry it with me always.
As a screen actor, you have filmed for the new BBC drama series Babies starring Paapa Essiedu, Siobhán Cullen, Jack Bannon and Charlotte Riley; how was it returning to TV acting for the first time since 2013 and being directed by Stefan Golaszewski (who also created and wrote the series)?
Well – they bring you coffee on set, which is always nice. In theatre, you’re more likely to be in a slightly dingy back room, making petrol from instant granules.
It was a quick but interesting excursion back into screen. I can’t quite imagine what it’s like to direct something of that scale, but Stefan took real time with me, which I appreciated. I really enjoyed being back in front of a camera.
One thing I was reminded of immediately, from growing up on sets, is how much I love the make-up and hair teams. They’re the first in and last out every day, and always a great laugh – they completely calmed my nerves on day one.
You don’t get the same immediate feedback as you do in theatre. You have to trust your own internal taste in the moment – or throw it out completely, who knows.
I look forward to more screen work in the future.
Do you remember how you felt booking your role of Gus Carmichael in Tracy Beaker Returns, and how was it playing a regular character in one of CBBC’s most popular shows?
You know what – I didn’t really know what Tracy Beaker was, if I’m honest. I’d grown up in America – you can probably still hear a bit of a twang in the early episodes – so that cultural heritage hadn’t really been a part of me.
I do remember being in the garden when I found out I’d got the part. Coincidentally, we had a foster sister living with us at the time, and she thought it was the most incredible thing ever. She’d watched The Story of Tracy Beaker repeatedly and gave me the full lowdown on how important it was. My God, what I had to learn.
Luckily, I was probably too young to be too daunted by it.
I’ll say this – looking back now, from a time where we perhaps take this kind of thing more for granted – Tracy Beaker gave a voice to experiences that children in the UK were going through that no other show really did.
It’s a show with a big heart, and I’ve had the privilege of seeing what it’s meant to so many people over the years.
How would you describe Gus and how was it developing the character over the years?
He feels more like a real person from my childhood now than a character. I’m sure any child actor would recognise that feeling.
I think Gus was a phenomenally daring character for the writers to create, and I believe they handled him with real grace and purpose. It was never explicitly stated in the show that he was autistic, and yet I’ve met countless incredible young people with autism who related very strongly to him. That’s something I’ve always carried with me.
I was nine when we started shooting, and I remember taking it very seriously – trying to construct the character as best I could. From day one, I was sure he wore the same clothes every day, with a wardrobe full of blue polo shirts and beige chinos. I practised Beethoven piano sonatas with my granny, which eventually led to the bust of Beethoven he carried (which, yes, I still have), and I looked into ways some autistic children might physically express themselves. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time was a big influence at the time.
I took Gus very seriously, and I tried to be as loyal as I could to him over a number of years in which I was also changing a great deal as a person.
Looking back now, there may well have been actors better suited to play him. But I hold him very dearly – I partly grew up through him.
What are some of your stand-out memories from playing Gus in Tracy Beaker, and did you have any favourite episodes to film?
Straight out the gate – Lily falling off the roof. What a decision from the writers. We all stood there while the stunt double punted themselves onto a mat from a floor above. Tom Cruise, eat your heart out.
I also remember the unexploded WW2 grenade episode – it still makes me laugh. Completely mental storyline. The piano audition, Mike’s OBE, Gus’s girlfriend, the day trip – at one point I actually had to run through real fire. There are endless moments. It was an incredible time.
You know, those actors were really something special. When it’s kids, there’s something much more primal about how it’s approached – you’re not quite doing Meisner and Stanislavski in prep. Some of them have gone on to be wonderful actors in their own right. Show me an actor who can play Liam better than Richard Wisker did – 14 years old and oozing charisma.
That whole cast was special, and so was the show.
What was it like filming Gus’s leaving episode in Series 1 of The Dumping Ground, and how was it seeing the fan response to the character?
There’s something special to be said about What Would Gus Want?, my final episode on The Dumping Ground. Looking back on it now, I think it was really phenomenally beautiful writing.
I’ll make a particular mention of Connor Byrne, who plays Mike – in many ways, he’s the heartbeat of that show. I remember our scenes in that episode being some of the best acting I’ve ever witnessed from a scene partner.
In terms of the response, I’ve had the privilege of seeing what that character has meant to people over a long period of time. It’s not something you’re fully aware of when you’re in it, but over the years it becomes clear how much people connected with him. That’s something I don’t take lightly.
At the start of your career, you played Billy in the Channel 4 black comedy series Free Agents starring Stephen Mangan, Sharon Horgan and Anthony Head, and were in the cast of the 2008 feature film Last Chance Harvey starring Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson, what was it like on set of both?
I’m going to tell a very quick story about Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson. I was about seven.
Dustin Hoffman taught me how to do the severed thumb gag. I fell asleep multiple times on Emma Thompson’s lap. Her daughter asked me to marry her – I said no, she was too bossy.
I remember watching Dustin give a speech, and at the end of it I looked over at Emma Thompson and she was in tears.
After about a week of shooting, I was leaving set with my chaperone. We walked past a room stacked with chairs – we’d been filming in a big hall for a wedding – and there was this beautiful jazz-blues being played on a piano inside. We couldn’t see who it was.
We walked in, and all I could see was the top of Hoffman’s frizzy hair. He stood up, winked at me, and pretended to remove his thumb from his hand.
Magic.
How did you get into acting and directing and did you always know you wanted to do both professionally?
It’s funny – I’m 26 now, but it already feels like there have been various entrances and exits into all of this. At one point, as a teenager, I swore I would never act again. The next year I was driving to and from a dear teacher’s house, spending hours working on Hamlet for drama school auditions. I certainly never thought I would direct.
I got into acting because I happened to – nothing more really. My mum was a drama teacher in Bristol, and a local theatre needed a Tiny Tim. I was sacked after the first night – an early exit. I was sure that wasn’t going to stop me, so I auditioned for Michael in Peter Pan and got cast as a Lost Boy. It’s a cruel business.
I remember a teacher at Guildhall saying that, as actors, we had all signed our souls off to the devil. I think I’d done that years earlier, playing pantos at the Bristol Hippodrome.
It’s not an easy business, but it’s a hell of a contract. I want to work for as long as possible, with the best possible people.
Do you have any favourite films, TV and theatre shows to watch?
Little Miss Sunshine, Richard III and Shrek.
How do you like to spend your free time?
Eagerly watching Roy Hodgson come out of retirement for Bristol City.
What are you hoping 2026 brings for your career, and do you have any projects coming up that you can talk about?
We have a few irons in the fire at Grub Street. Sam’s writing a new play, and we are shaping it together in a room full of wonderful actors. The hope is we will perform it by the end of the year, all things willing.
Follow Noah on: