Burlesque night at Frome Poetry Cafe had April Follies as our theme and lovely Muriel Lavender our hugely popular guest. The Garden Cafe was completely crammed to watch Muriel in frilly bloomers declaiming her satirical gems, all in the best possible taste and accompanied by props from Dolly Parton hat to W.I. knitted knockers. For anyone who can't wait till Frome Festival in July for another dose of Lavender linctus and glimpse of gusset, Muriel is performing at The Bell in Rode next Thursday (14th).


One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, written and set in the 1960s, has dated in the same way Shakespeare's tragedies have: we may thank our stars things like that don't happen nowadays, but we know human nature hasn't really changed. It's a brutal story of institutionalised bullying that culminates in suicide and murder, but nevertheless manages to end on an exuberant high that a broken but indomitable spirit can survive oppression with just a little help. The help, of course, is R P McMurphy, a reprobate who acts crazy to get out of the Work Farm, and opens the eyes of Nurse Ratched's 'boys' to her tactics of psychological abuse in the name of therapy. It's a play that needs a strong male lead, and Frome Drama Club found one in Stephen Scammell whose charisma electrified the entire action. The crazies were all terrific, each actor inhabiting his role totally at every moment, and the scene when they defy their tormenter to watch the World Series on a switched-off television is fantastic. (Thanks Mike Witt for the picture) Also unforgettable is the party scene that precipitates a tragic climax. Director Calum Grant, who also designed the effective set, comments in his programme notes that the fishing trip in the Jack Nicholson movie can't be shown in a stage version, but for me the containment within the men's ward is what builds the claustrophobic atmosphere to inescapable climax. A full house at the Merlin gasped, laughed, cried, and gave this brilliant production prolonged and well-deserved applause.
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I feel a bit bad admitting I wasn't bowled over by After the Accident at the Brewery. It was well acted, and the situation - joyrider kills best friend and random small child, parents unable to recover - is certainly harrowing. The notion of putting culprit and suffering parents together for Restorative Justice, with us the voyeuristic audience as onlooking coordinator, is simple and strong, and the mix of eloquent soliloquy and intense argument should have worked really well. But I never felt able to inhabit the emotional heart of this story - it remained a case-study, violent and tragic but oddly two-dimensional. I think the static and cerebral directing was one factor, and another was that the script simply failed to convince at key places when cathartic shifts were necessary but not really credible. And, for such a deluge of raw pain, it went on a bit too long .

Being frequently bang off-trend when it comes to movies I've only just seen Social Network - what an amazing movie, deservedly taking Oscars for best script and best editing and should have won best film too if we weren't all sentimentally besotted with royalty. Zuckerberg in the movie registers quite high on the autistic scale of emotional illiteracy - presumably to add a more complex dimension, since the real Zuckerberg comes across in interview as a total hero. His concept was radical: facebook as an agent of worldwide democracy, users as communicating individuals rather than consumerist prey. No wonder he was sued.

And finally... banging the drum for Frome again: Matthew Graham (think Life of Mars and Ashes to Ashes, not Bonekickers, please, we all have off-days) revels in living just outside the town.
In a recent interview he said he'd pick Frome over Bath any day "- of course! Always go for the underdog. It's a treasure trove of unusual shops and its arts festival draws the likes of Eddie Izzard... Unstoppable Frome!"
Deadly is the Female, which along with our independent record shop and cinema were among Matthew's list of unmissables, is currently commended in Vogue for 'a shopping experience designed to make you feel like a Hollywood starlet from the golden era.' As Muriel Lavender, starring the Poetry Cafe tomorrow night, will agree.
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Frome was officially twinned with The One Show back in that programme's glory days, but I've always maintained it should be twinned with Eden - at least if your idea of paradise is an incredibly creative town made up of bitesize bits of urban energy mingled with local friendliness. When I arrived here and Frome had me at 'hello', I was told my adoptive home doesn't count as Somerset, it's known in that county as The Peoples' Republic of Frome. How great it would be, then, to be literally self-governing - or at least to be able to make future-focussed decisions not ruled by the palsied hand of bickering party politics.
If only we had enough energetic imaginative individuals to stand as independents in our wards at the May elections.... ooh we do. That sounds like something to sing about. It's flashmob time!

A funny thing about The Comedy of Errors is that it's not the slightest bit amusing for any of the characters, who become progressively more irate, berated, and beleaguered: it's the privileged information of the audience alone that turns the action into hilarious farce. The premise is beyond absurd, combining extreme mistaken identity with bizarre coincidence, but this wonderful production energetically trounces any such nitpicking cavils.
Pay full attention to the opening speech though, because without this nothing makes sense: Egeon, a merchant of Syracuse, explains he is seeking his son who, with his faithful manservant, is seeking his identical twin brother and his identical twin faithful manservant. Little does Egeon know that they're all now in Ephesus, busily mistaking each other’s identity all over town.
Andrew Hilton's inspired direction shows this early Shakespeare play is ideal for in-the-round production: minimal set details give plenty of space for physical action and the story cracks along at a spanking pace. 19th Century costumes (designed by Harriet de Winton) not only look fabulous but subtly underline the brutality below the surface of an elegant era. Comic timing throughout is superb - some moments so funny they sparked spontaneous applause. All the actors are terrific so it seems wrong to pick out individuals but I will: Antipholus of Ephesus and his passionate wife (Matthew Thomas and Dorothea Myer-Bennett), Angelo the baffled goldsmith (Alan Coveney), and the mistreated menservants (Richard Neale and Gareth Kennerley). Both sets of twins looked uncannily alike, which really helps too. Oh, and so does the live music. This is SATTF on five-star form and it's on till the end of April, then transferring to the Northcott Theatre Exeter, so GO SEE!

If you've ever sniggered salaciously while seasoning with cumin or discussing kundalini, you'd love Julie Mullen's erotic poetry. Julie is an actress as well as a zestful word juggler, and Bradford on Avon's poetry cafe positively thrilled to her raunchy off-the-wall style. I went with lovely Muriel Lavender, who though not in her best underpinnings nevertheless caused quite an erotic frisson herself.
Anyone seeking the full corset experience should come to Frome Poetry Cafe next week, when Muriel will be the star of our Burlesque night.

Hull Truck Theatre brought their current touring production Lady Chatterley's Lover to an optimistic Merlin audience on Wednesday. Sadly, despite the dark glamour of the programme image, this was more of a plot recital than a drama. (Picture by Peter Byrne.)
Everyone knows the basic story and this could have worked in favour of the adaptation, but it didn’t. There was obvious intention to address issues of class and gender struggles between the wars but the steady pace and stagey delivery made for an insipid performance and, devoid of Lawrence's exultation in cunt as vital to life, the story became a depressing case-study of matrimonial difficulties. The lovers' discreet fondlings lacked any erotic energy and seemed inspired by that much-parodied potter’s wheel scene in Ghost.
The set really didn’t help: a dense circle of country-household clutter was presumably designed to show how Connie was fettered by her status, but allowed no sense of the freedom of the woods or the elemental thrill of the rainstorm. Here, as in the adaptation itself, there seemed too much reliance on explanations rather than physical or emotional impact.

By contrast, Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell at Bath Theatre Royal featured classy acting, especially Robert Powell who brought charm and unexpected warmth to the title role of the misogynist alcoholic journalist whose column was famed for its frequent absence. Set in a superbly credible Soho pub early one morning, the play is a rambling monologue of reprehensible anecdotes and acid reflections. "Choked on his own vomit – what a disgusting phrase!" he muses, "when did you ever hear of anyone choking on someone else’s vomit?” Keith Waterhouse wrote his tribute in 1989, showing the cult of celebrity was obsessed with the degradation of idols long before Heat and circles of shame. There's contempt too for affluent county living, as 'Mr&Mrs Backbone-of-England' come in for hefty lampooning: cue prolonged laughter from all the Mr&Mrs Backbones-of-Bath massed in the stalls...

The first ever Merlin New Playwriting Competition reached a triumphant conclusion with the presentation of the winning plays as fully-directed rehearsed readings on stage last Thursday. Members of Frome Drama Club played all parts in the five winning plays and did full justice to styles and subjects ranging from a very-American modern tragedy to a very-English 19th Century comedy. Sets were minimal, but effective lighting and imaginative direction from Claudia Pepler combined with a varied programme of superb writing and strong acting to create a fantastic theatrical evening.
The quality of entries was clear from the start with Silent Columbine by Bristol student Hannah Williams-Walton, a brilliant script and a powerfully convincing psychological study of the two boys who massacred thirteen people in 1999. Patrice Gerrard, also in the younger category, evoked a ‘waiting-for-Godot’ atmosphere in One Long Interval as a restless teenager waits with his father in hospital for news of his younger brother. A clever and succinct script with compassionate insight into family dynamics as well as some very funny moments.
From the over-25 category, The Zapper by Frome writer Brenda Bannister took an initially realistic situation – a let’s-be-civil discussion about divorce – to create an admirably crisp and witty script with a satisfying conclusion. In a change of mood again, Heartsink by Geraldine Lindley from Bath dealt with the difficult topic of Munchausen’s syndrome. The final play of the night The Fearful Adventure of the Fishing Excursion was a diverting duologue set in a Victorian bedroom and involving extreme storytelling Lemony Snickett might envy. Playwright Jonathan Collings found his ideas in a collection of Victorian tall tales and wove them together with preposterous charm to create a highly individual finale.
After the performances, audience members joined writers and cast in the foyer for an informal feedback session and a chance to express their appreciation and enjoyment. Merlin director Claudia Pepler, who had the initial idea of a New Playwriting competition as well as overseeing the project and selecting the winners, intends to make this an annual event. “Next time we'll aim for full production,” she said “The whole process has been brilliant.”

"Thankyou for coming to this and not wandering around Bristol in a green felt hat, getting pissed in the name of St Patrick." This is Bristol Old Vic's Word of Mouth, about to prove once again that a poetry performance can move, amuse, and thrill every bit as dramatically as a play - and more succinctly & intimately too. Byron Vincent compèred with his usual enchanting dialectical dexterity, recalling a scary '80s childhood contending with waving gladioli, stranger-danger, and Mr Noseybonk.
First guest was World Slam Champ and BBC radio4 fave Elvis McGonagall who, having applauded our Paddy's day choice, metaphorically rolled up his tartan sleeves to give every aspect of modern culture a pasting - especially politics. Ferocity and wit in equal measure scythed through the coalition, banking, Cameron's Big Society ("how patronising is that? Enid Blyton meets George Orwell") and Operation Undying Conflict in Afghanistan.

Luke Wright has called his brilliant new show Cynical Ballads and performs his 'seven caustic tales from Broken Britain' as a powerpoint presentation with visuals ranging from Searle-like cartoons to quasi-lecture notes on the history of the ballad form. “Some poems work on the soul, some poems work on the funny bone” Luke says, but his do both: they're passionate and satirical, but every light jest has a dark shadow - as in his tale about The Luck of the Brungers which ends bleakly
If you’re wondering what the moral is, I’m afraid I’m wondering too.
Trolls like this will always win. And there’s nothing we can do.
Luke doesn't think Britain is really broken, he says, despite this collection of misfits and monsters, and he sees his show as a kind of angry nagging love-letter. And that's how it comes across, despite the yobs and the snobs and the drunks on the train - as a series of deeply felt and turbulent tales about the painful poignancy of human life.
Like Byron said at the start: “Everything’s ok really – well it isn’t, but it’s always been horrible, so that’s nearly the same.”

Four In A Bed has had its last outing - in Southsea, somewhat bizarrely, at The Cellars in Eastney. A great little pub venue, providing our actors for the first time with a stage & lighting to enhance their frolics. Performances peaked - great to end Nevertheless Productions short tour on such a high note.
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The Merlin One Act Play competition closed at the end of February, leaving us just three weeks for the tough task of deciding a shortlist from 55 submissions, and for director Claudia to pick five finalists and organise rehearsed readings of their winning plays. First read-through went really well: actors from Frome Drama Club animatedly discussing the plays, acknowledging 'great writing, great dialogue' and disagreeing over their favourites. Which is exactly what I hope will happen among the audience when the winners are staged. All seats free, 7.45 on Thursday 24th, so do come along if you can.

From drama to poetry: Bristol poet Tom Phillips was guesting at Poetry & a Pint in St James Wine Vaults on Monday. Tom is an editor at Venue, our local version of London's Time Out, recently threatened with closure and then last week dramatically 'saved'. Future issues will be Venue, Spock, but not as we know it. Our much-loved anarchic & informative weekly will amalgamate with a 'lifestyle' magazine and mutate into a monthly freebie. Tom referred to this trauma only once and obliquely, in his excellent set, when he introduced his poem Pyrrhic Victory: "The writer of this is on his knees before the emperor - I think it's about my present employment situation."

And a couple of previews:
Frome's April Follies Poetry Café on Wednesday 6th features brilliant burlesque poet Muriel Lavender, whose wicked wit and sensational attire are raising eyebrows and spirits across the southwest.

Looking further ahead, Westbury Festival is introducing poetry events this year -organisers Maggie and Helen visited Frome for ideas how.

Finally: Being Human has reached its last gory episode and Monday mornings won't be the same. (I'm generally out when it's screened so watch on Demand at first possible opportunity.) Facebook is crawling with mournings for Mitchell, the vampire who ironically managed to be human after all when he found self-loathing, surely the sole ability distinguishing us from other animals. Can the next series survive without its key players - or did Herrick lie when he said there was no way back... "He was flawed, he was adored, with him we were never bored": John Mitchell, here are your best bits.

Entertaining
Pithy
Engrossing
Offensive
Surprising!
Fabulous
Brilliant
Different
Intriguing
Imaginative
Thought-provoking
FANxxxxxxTASTIC!
Four in a Bed - drama quartet written by me and Rosie, co-produced with Bootleg Theatre Company - finished its Frome run on Saturday with sell-out audience and post-show party courtesy of Martin, new owner of Upstairs at the Lamb and big supporter of our pub theatre venture Nevertheless. Friday night was an unexpected sell-out too, and feedback has been amazing, from one-word responses (typical selection above) to emails texts & calls. "Thank you for a wonderful evening, innovative and enjoyable, Frome so needs this!" "Really good writing - absorbing, touching and funny!"

Massive thanks to Stew, Kerry, Sara and Joe for their strong acting and to Colin for bringing it all together. There's a final performance of this production on Wednesday at Eastney and then in festival the fun starts again when Bristol's Stepping Out company brings Lullabies of Broadmoor to Frome Festival.

Mark Thomas reckons he looks like he's just bagged a rambler in his promo image for Extreme Rambling - Walking the Wall, his one-man show about walking the Palestine border wall: a ramble, as he points out, requiring more than a bobble hat and boots - like an inside contact at UN. For over two hours Mark paces the stage in front of a map of the West Bank, recounting through facts and dramatic sketches the story of this epic journey with energy and passion that never flags. It's an amazing performance - a wildly funny show about shocking realities, deeply felt and inspirationally well-crafted.
Mark calls his trip a mixture of devilment, curiosity and rambling, though he's been warned to claim officially he's writing about birds and wild flowers. It's a journey full of learning. Like, although the border is 315 kilometers, the wall is more than twice as long, deviating wildly in order to include the illegal Israeli settlements. Like, the cruel absurdities of this route include a football pitch split in half, villagers separated from their shops, and children walking to school through a tunnel they share with sewerage when it rains.
There's much to grieve and rage over in his tale but it never becomes a lecture or a rant, as Mark peoples the stage with other characters too: his supporters, opposers, and random companions. We meet juggling Israeli anarchists who quote Monty Python, Palestinians queuing through the night at the border crossing, conscript soldiers, an orthodox Jew estate agent, the dapper Consulate General and the colonel who designed the wall - 'a man who doesn’t let the facts impinge on his life.' We recognise the voices of his hippy cameraman, his exasperated fuck-up sorter Nava, and Mark's inner Hugh Grant.
And the wall's final obscenity is to end at Beityatir, incomplete despite '723 kilometers of national self-delusion'. Mark's journey ends as it began, with an Israeli soldier shouting out a challenge. This time, fired by fury that 'this land so obsessed with identity robs everyone of his own', he yells back a summary of his experiences, concluding with lung-breaking belligerence ‘and I’m writing about birds and wild flowers.’ Brilliant entertainment with lasting impact.

Big contrast at the finale of the Bath Literature festival: Griff Rhys Jones discoursing on his trips to mountains and rivers, which turned out to be mainly a smugly superficial ramble through the peaks and streams of his ego. Thank Groupon for Royal Fizz champagne cocktails at The Lounge.

Saturday was World Book Night, with bedtime stories for children and free books for all at Frome Library. Over a dozen Fromies applied successfully to be donors, which means a total of more than 600 books supplied by the scheme. The big handout was followed by Books Please! - a chance for bibliophiles to share their most-loved reads. My own special favourite was Robyn still in her Where The Wild Things Are costume reading Kubla Khan.



And finally: Only 4 days now till Four in a Bed opens Upstairs at the Lamb. Rosie and I took Alison in to admire the framed poster in the downstairs bar...

Probe, the dance company that extends performance into contemporary drama, is now an Associate Artist of Merlin Theatre and what a coup for Frome’s theatre to be linked with this exciting group. Currently they are touring with May, a stunning production featuring mesmeric words from Tim Crouch made excitingly visceral and vivid by dance sequences. (thanks Matthew Andrews for the pictures)
The story takes us to terrain that fascinated the writer in his previous award-winning plays My Right Arm and The Author : the relationship between mind and body, and the emotional connection between audience and actors. We seem initially to be in a non-demanding poetry reading, encouraged into comfortable laughter, until the reader’s subject becomes gradually graphically apparent. May, the girl he is writing about, is a self-harmer, and nothing in this gentle social worker’s experience has prepared him for her pain, expressed in struggle to find words and in passionate primal dance. He begins to understand her ‘ecstasy of agony’, how ‘each jab an endogenous spurt blocking out the pain.. a unifying simplicity.’ The poem becomes a love story, mingling empathy with the violence, until we are suddenly back in the drab hall of the readings with a call for the owner of a blue Mondeo to move it please…
Fantastic live music from Scott Smith, who was also the bemused compere, supported fabulous dance from Ben Duke and Antonia Grove, and a brilliantly disturbing script. I came out shaking, after the most extraordinary hour at the theatre for a long time. You can see a clip here, and see the show (or see it again, as I will) in Bristol’s Mayfest. Five stars.

Voices in the City is the collective name for spoken word in Bath Literature Festival, or as they put it: 'poetical events', since Bath is a city because it has a cathedral, rather than urban eclectic energy. The poetical event in the Central Library from 10am to 4.30pm last Friday, meticulously organised by Sue Boyle, provided readings ranging from Greek myths to Eliot's Wasteland, free to anyone with time to spare. I was a brief drop-in, but managed to catch a superb set by BlueGate Poets from Swindon. Travellers without Baggage is the name of an anthology they have been working from, and their presentation combined some of the original poems by Valerie Clarke with their own responses and was both lyrical and moving.

Paul - the new movie-genre spoof from Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, if you've been distracted by Baftamania and the name doesn't ring a bell - is not getting many stars from broadsheet reviewers who find its sci-fi geekiness not as funny as zombies or rural cops. Over in the states there's a different concern: the miraculously-healed bible-belt babe, liberated into extreme expletives and intention to fornicate, apparently introduces 'a risque series of attacks on Christianity that will be unpopular.' (Paul: “My existence doesn’t necessarily disprove religion, just all Judaeo-Christian denominations.”) I loved it, although most of the sci-fi filmic in-jokes went over my head, because the story is rich in other gags too: it's a bonding-style love story, a thriller, a nerds-triumph story and most of all a road movie, with lashings of self-discovery along the way. Why it's Little Miss Sunshine but with a kindof benign supersmart skinny Gollum on board.

Back in the day when I strutted my performance poetry stuff about a bit, Hazel Stewart and I were Live & Lippy - and before that, with wonderful guitarist Laurie Parnell, we were Liquid Jam. In fact some of our words are still knocking around Youtube (onomatopoeia had 6260 hits last time I looked.) Hazel now lives in Cumbria so duets are off the menu, but when she journeys south we always meet up for walking and writing and talking of past times. This weekend we had another reminiscence-fest, looking back on our 'artist date' city-breaks in Paris, Amsterdam, Barcelona, and New York.... must be time for another, Haz!

“The nice thing about writing a book is you have to really think” says Debby Holt at the crammed launch of her totally engrossing new novel Friends Lies and Alibis at Toppings in Bath, a charmingly ingenuous comment from a writer who is actually extremely erudite, and crafts her domestic dramas with psychological insight as well as witty social observation. This story, she tells us, started out as the exploration of a toxic marriage, but ended up more about the relationship of the wife's two friends who made it their mission to release her by wrecking it. They have mixed motives in this but Debby points out breezily "I've never had an unmixed motive in my life." It's Debby at her best, with a storyline that never dips and characters you could recognise in the street - my favourite is Leah, feeling after a bad night: "Her future lay before her like the sea at Chesil Beach on a particularly gloomy day."

Just two weeks now to the opening night of FOUR IN A BED, Upstairs at the Lamb, Frome's first and only Pub Theatre. It's organised by Nevertheless Productions, the Theatre Company I coorganise with founder Rosie Finnegan (whose creative energy and vision was recognised in recent nominations for Frome's 'Person of the Year') and our first co-production with Salisbury's Bootleg Company. We're particularly excited because we each wrote two of these four short plays, all featuring a bed in very different ways - and director Colin Burdon tells us rehearsals are going really well. Tickets are just £5 for an hour of lively dramatic action, Thursday 10th, Friday 11th, and Saturday 12th March. So come along and find out 'How they did it', discover where 'the Girl with Blue Hair' has gone, see if Marie in finds the freedom she craves in 'A Single Bed', and learn Jake's secret in 'Mirror Image' ... Please!

StageWrite Café presents... DRESSING UP BOX at the Merlin, last Thursday, was a more-than-sellout success, as our bistro-style seating onstage spilled into several rows of the auditorium - a fantastic tribute to the twelve wonderful writers who workshopped their creative imaginings and memories into a vivid and varied performance night. Huge appreciation to everyone involved, especially Howard for our visual effects as well as performing, and Niamh for the technique tips - ooh I feel a Bafta moment coming on... I'll condense it to a big THANKYOU to all who participated and all who supported, especially Flourish Homes who made this project possible. And thanks, Jill, for the photos.

A quick break in London with Christine Coleman finds us on South Bank where the skyline mists into glittering soft-focus as we pop into Tate Modern to prowl among the galleries admiring the way everyone is an installation and even the escalators become art when you stare at them. Supper with Roger Jinkinson, the only writer I know who chats on facebook with Greek fisherman. In Greek. His new collection of island tales will be out soon.


And finally: epic applause to Laurie Parnell, Tracey Ashford, and Philip de Glanville, who lifted an AmDram night to almost inconceivable heights while winning best actor, best actress and best production at the Somerset Fellowship of Drama awards tonight at the Merlin. A clean sweep for the Troupers, immensely well deserved.

Like Brian Friel, Harold Pinter was a master of unreliable narration. “The past is what you remember, imagine you remember, convince yourself you remember, or pretend to remember,” he once said, and the characters in his short plays Landscape and Monologue in this sense inhabit Faith Healer terrain, though without the same empathy or lyrical elegance. In both these plays, though Landscape is notionally a duologue, there’s a sense of complete and bleak isolation, with speeches so enigmatic it seems superfluous to attempt interpretation in terms of what has actually happened. More significant is that the couple in the second play have no more connection than the unnamed man who talks to an empty chair in the first. The actors were all strong but what is most interesting is why these radio plays were revived at the Ustinov despite – or perhaps because of - the fact that theatre compels an attentive stillness which radio-listeners rarely attempt. Chris Goode's impressive direction brought theatricality to these static pieces, underlining their nonreality by featuring technical set changes, and using lighting to create shadows lurking at the sides of the stage like silent onlookers.

Oddsocks, the company that aims to make Shakespeare accessible, brought their current production Hamlet The Comedy! to Bristol’s QEH Theatre, promising a hologram of Paul Daniels as Hamlet’s father and zany family-friendly hilarity... And yet I went. I’m so glad I did, and I’d happily go to anything else this immensely talented troupe decides to tackle with similar absurd impropriety. Hugely entertaining with wonderful physical sequences, clever set and technical wizardry, yet five charismatic actors managed to convey the lyricism and emotional energy of Shakespeare's language despite the liberties they took with the script. Music by Jamiroquai's Rob Harris – including a rocking version of the famous soliloquy - was the icing on a scrumptious performance cake.

The ever-excellent SATTF team have begun their spring programme with Richard II, considered one of Shakespeare’s ‘histories’ but it could equally be seen as one of his finest tragedies. The fatal flaw of this Plantagenet tragic hero is a strangely innocent one: he believes in his Divine Right to rule, so the morality of his decisions is irrelevant as kings are above conscience. The conflict between Richard and Bullingbrooke goes beyond the justice of the disinherited cousin’s claims, with deep-seated certainties challenged by the volatile energy of opportunism. In this new order you can be who you choose, but what if you are vanquished and unthroned yet still believe you are king? In the current production at the Tobacco Factory, director Andrew Hilton highlights the poignancy of Richard’s struggle to find his identity in a rebellion he can scarcely comprehend, and John Heffernan plays the traumatised king with immense sensitivity and subtlety. In such a strong ensemble piece it’s hard to pick out any individual since all played their roles superbly, with menace, pathos, and humour all there and beautifully dressed.

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