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Feeling Tartuffed
I had a bit of a moral dilemma about whether to write this review at all. In fact, on the way back from the theatre, I had concluded that I would do no more than a short paragraph, more as a reminder to myself than anything else. This is clearly not just another major London…
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You can die at twenty-six
When Victor sweeps his flashlight across the stage and into the audience, the slightly uncomfortable chairs of the tiny Marylebone theatre become additional items about to be sold to Gregory Solomon, and the packed audience an extension of the cluttered attic. Poor ventilation heightens the stifling atmosphere, and the musty smell quickly feels real. The…
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