What do you leave behind when your time is up?

In King Tut’s Lover, a disillusioned Egyptian artist locks himself in his late father’s hangar and sets the clock ticking. His mission? To build a legacy — a museum of now — before the structure (and perhaps his mind) implodes. Caught between the epic shadow of Ancient Egyptian glory and the suffocating pressure of modern insignificance, he crafts, confronts, and unravels in a whirlwind of memory, sound, and self-doubt.

This gripping, genre-blurring one-hander blends live music, dark humor, raw physicality, and sharp audience interaction to explore legacy, identity, and the brutal weight of history. With echoes of Kafka, Wajdi Mouawad, and Bo Burnham’s Inside, King Tut’s Lover is an emotionally charged, absurdly funny, and unflinchingly personal portrait of a man fighting time, trauma, and cultural expectation.

A bold debut for fans of intimate epics, poetic breakdowns, and theatre that leaves you questioning what you’ve inherited — and what you’ll pass on.