Luke Redmond has been writing theatre for twenty years and directing for ten. A few of his plays are featured below, along with a detailed account of his directing experience.

‘Redmond’s direction is deft with a human touch.’ THE STAGE

‘Writer and Director Luke Redmond sustains the odd, taut atmosphere beautifully … the indications of his talent are everywhere apparent.’
TIME OUT

Taking its primary inspiration from Shakespeare’s underrated classic Measure for Measure, the play delights in the pretence that the audience is one step ahead of the action, when in fact they are always one step behind.

Daniel and Sol, brothers and philanthropic paupers, have only two days left to find £42,000 and save their local family centre. After a night of drunkenness and epiphanies they become swept up in the desperate plight of Charlotte, a charming stranger who is about to lose everything in a poker game. Sure enough Rachel, Daniel’s egotistic ex-girlfriend, storms in deciding she wants him back. Too bad it’s all happening on the day Daniel has decided to change for good, the day he’s decided to start putting his own interests before others…

SOL:  Okay, how much do you want to bet that you could be a bastard? I mean a genuine bastard.

DANIEL:   A quid?

SOL:   As much as that? So you’re pretty confident then?

Much more than just a comedy, this is a cleverly crafted play about the true nature of philanthropy, taking inspiration from Rudyard Kipling’s seminal poem ‘If’. Please get in touch if you’re interested to read the script.

Vernon and Irene were artists dedicated to bringing entertainment to thousands of people, and this legacy lives on in ballrooms worldwide. The script, while attuned to the current zeitgeist, also reaches beyond to tell a timeless story of love and life. Punctuated by public adoration and private tragedy, love and loss, success in the face of the Great War, their lives were truly  incredible.

‘Kid, you’re a natural. You’re hired.’

The Castles were united in 1905 and married in 1910. On stage and off they led dramatic and glamorous lives until Vernon’s tragic death in 1918, by which time Vernon had returned to England, enlisted as a fighter pilot for the Royal Flying Corps, been posted to France and flown over 100 combat missions. He was awarded the Croix de Guerre and the Iron Cross and remains the only World War One pilot to ever receive both. The latter was given to him by an unnamed German pilot Vernon had shot down and wounded, only to land by and carry to the hospital in the English barracks.

Vernon and I is a story told by an elderly black American called Walter Ash. He was a retainer for Hubert Foote, Irene’s father and a close friend of both Vernon and Irene. He was integral to the two dancers’ success and was swept up in the whirlwind that was their lives. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers made a film about the dancers’ lives in 1939, the studio inexcusably bastardising the character of Walter. This script however is an accurate portrayal of the dancers’ lives: its main source text is Irene Castle’s own biography, ‘Castles in the Air’, along with a rare book that contained the letters Vernon sent to Irene during his time in France fighting the German flying circus. Meticulously researched, the characters (with the exception of a few who no information exists about) are entirely real, doing and saying the things they did as remembered and recounted by Irene. The play took almost two years to research and a further two years to write.

Vernon was a truly remarkable human being and I got a real sense of who he was by reading the 200-plus letters he wrote to his wife while stationed in France. Many people spoke highly of Vernon and Irene, and their lives interweaved with Lew Fields, Charlie Dillingham, Charles Frohman and perhaps most notably Irving Berlin, to name a few. The little-known Berlin wrote his first musical about the dance craze that was sweeping America and based it on the dancers’ own lives. The debut of ‘Watch Your Step’ actually had Vernon in the lead role and was undoubtedly a big part of Berlin’s immediate and subsequent success.

Vernon and I is a two-act musical with a minimum cast of eleven.  Many of the songs are drafted, and we’re currently looking for a musical director to help bring them to the stage. Please get in touch if you’re interested in being involved.

‘The Castles are a neglected duo – which seems very strange when so many others have been highlighted. They were the greatest dancers and teachers of the 20th Century and responsible for Ballroom dance as we know it today. Their story will have universal appeal with the present ballroom boom (which looks set for a very long time). I feel that you have chosen the ideal time for such a project. I enclose the Castles’ technique book, and with it go my sincerest good wishes in the certain knowledge that it will be of the highest calibre and a credit to the whole world of dance.’ DAVID ROBERTS, Chief Executive of the United Kingdom Alliance of Professional Teachers of Dancing

Nevermore is about human avarice and in particular male jealousy. It is written in a classical style and its source text and primary inspiration is ‘The Raven’ by Edgar Allen Poe.

The play takes place in the study of Sebastian Falls, an author and a troubled one at that. He shares the stage on a permanent basis with Greene, a personification of his own bitter jealousy. It is a love story from the perspective of a man who never obtained the object of his desire, his Ellanore.

‘I guess the grass is always greener Seb.’

The play is moody and dark but has moments of humour and an ultimately uplifting finale. It is a classic tragedy and the key emotion is melancholy. The play and setting are a direct metaphor for Sebastian’s mind, his cell, his own self-constructed prison. The play features a real sense of individual manifest destiny and the Mayan concept of Baktun, which means great change.

‘Gripping throughout, this play has everything – excellent acting, a very good script, good pacing, an atmosphere of intrigue and poetry.’ GUARDIAN

A woman arrives at a hotel and is greeted by a gentle and humble bell-boy. It quickly becomes evident that it is not a normal place to stay and rest, and the bell-boy Gabe hardly your average porter. Will Adele stay there or will she leave? Most importantly, where the hell is she?

‘Have the courage to live. Anyone can die.’

The style of the play is interesting because it is the product of two writers, Luke Redmond and James Card. It is deliberately short, perhaps frustratingly so, drawing comparisons with life itself.

Pawn is a one-act play with a cast of four. It premiered at the Man in the Moon Theatre, Chelsea, London in November 1999. Following seventeen successful performances RedCard Theatre travelled to C Venue in Edinburgh for a further eight shows in August 2000.

‘This play drew an impressive house – and deservedly so … This debut production from RedCard Theatre is an intriguing, absorbing experience.’ THE STAGE

BA (Hons) Dramatic Arts, ALRA

Assistant Director/Sebastian, Twelfth Night, Julian Glover 1997

Julian was an inspiration to me; we became very close and he allowed me to edit the text with him and assist on the direction of a wonderful production of Twelfth Night. We really celebrated the language and interspersed the play with an ensemble recitation of Shakespeare’s sonnets during scene changes. It worked beautifully, and the orchestration prompted many who saw the play to comment on how much they liked the scene changes. It was a true celebration of the essence of the play.

‘If music be the food of love, play on!’

Assistant Director/Berowne, Love’s Labour’s Lost, Glen Walford 1998

I was very lucky to be able to work alongside both Julian and Glen as assistant director and lead actor on two exceptional pieces of Shakespeare. Although totally different in style, both directors taught me a vast amount about the craft and I enjoyed my time under their tutelage immensely. I was given the task of editing Love’s Labour’s Lost, a five-act, four-hour-plus monster of a play, and I relished the chance to do so. I was meticulous and never altered the rhythm of the text. My cut came in at just under the desired running length and I do not feel the play suffered at all in any respect. I also learned to act a really meaty part, but thankfully many of the cuts I made were to Berowne (he likes to talk a bit).

Director, Six Characters in Search of an Author, ALRA 1998

Having impressed the powers that be, I was asked to direct my final show at the Academy of Live and Recorded Arts. It was a real eye-opener and sped up my learning curve to a very rapid degree. I learned a lot about actors, specifically about different types of actor and about how to get the best from each different type. Together we produced a very good, dark piece of work. With a talented cast and crew we brought something very special to life; of course the play itself allows for this. The translation we had been given needed a little work, but we received some really positive feedback from our tutors; I was singled out and thanked for the work I had put in. The college helped me to develop a great deal and has continued to do so for many years.

Director, A Time to Kill, Playing the Field Theatre Company 1998

Director, Learning to Fly, Playing the Field Theatre Company 1999

Being hired to work on these two plays was my first professional directing job, and the second play was my first experience of working on a brand new play – a very simple story about an illustrator who falls in love. After one show I was taken by the producer outside the theatre. I was confronted by a guy who was weeping uncontrollably. ‘You got it,’ he said. ‘You got the play. Thank you.’ It was the writer, Paul L Martin; he was really delighted and really surprised.

What I learned during these eight weeks was about restrictions that can be imposed upon the direction of a show. I learned about budgeting and time management; I learned that sometimes you have to work late into the night and that the direction of a play can be dictated (in some way) by what is available to be used. I learned quickly that direction itself can be, and in fact must be, environmental, technical and as resourceful as possible. I realised that it is testament to a director’s skill to solve problems outside of the artistic ones within a play. I started to learn about the complete craft.

Director, Pawn, RedCard Theatre 1999

After these two plays a fellow writer brought me a very rough first draft of what I believed could become a great play. So we knuckled down and produced five more drafts. Then we put it on. Putting this show on at the world-famous Man in the Moon theatre was a brilliant experience. I knew after this that I was more a director and writer than I was an actor. I missed the thrill of stage acting a lot, but it was replaced by another thrill entirely different to that of performing: it was watching people watch your play. It is really very cool indeed and the production of my first piece of writing was the first time I had witnessed it. The play was a massive success and really caught the imagination of those that saw it. After the reviews came out, we sold out.

The highlight for me on a personal level was being able to trust my own artistic vision and be commended for it. On the penultimate night of a three week run, I was sitting right at the back, as far out of the way as possible, when the audience started to file in. There were some strangely notable faces in that particular audience. I had a peaked baseball cap on and looked more like the archetypal hoodlum than the archetypal director. After the show and a rapturous ovation a woman turned to me with a big grin on her face, not knowing my involvement in the production, and said, ‘Well young man what did you think of that?’ I was stunned; anywhere outside of a theatre the two of us would be unlikely to have had a conversation. I remembered why the theatre is such a great place to be. I said to her, ‘I thought it was ok’. She smiled at me and said, ‘Well I thought it was brilliant’. It was the first time I had seen up close the effect one can have on an audience; I wasn’t in the play but I had written and directed it and it was the greatest feeling I have ever felt. It was such a small thing but it had a big impact on me.

After the show I was contacted by the London Arts Board (LAB) who invited me to submit my next play. Unfortunately by the time the script was complete three months later, the LAB had undergone a giant makeover and the production was never realised.

‘Redmond’s direction is deft with a human touch.’ THE STAGE

Director, Gemma’s Friends, Jelly Productions 2000

Following Pawn, I was hired straight away by another up-and-coming theatre company to direct another new play. It was another very enjoyable experience and was my first introduction to the new Blue Elephant Theatre. The show was well-received and well-reviewed, and I worked closely with the writer who is a very capable artist indeed. The play did incredibly well. I met with the artistic directors and producers and they were eager for me to direct more plays in their venue.

Director, Pawn Edinburgh Festival, RedCard Theatre 2001

We took the production of Pawn to C Venue for the festival. Performance had shown me where I could further improve the text. The debut was good, but the revised text produced an even better play. It was a great experience that taught me a lot, most importantly about text development.

Director, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, LK Productions 2002

This was an editing job that turned into a direction contract for a touring production of the play. I first had to produce a performable version of the story with a tiny cast of five. Once complete, I thought it would be a challenge to direct and wondered who they would ask. They asked me. It was great fun and I made some good friends along the way. The tour ended and I started to devote more of my time to writing.

Assistant Director, The Method, Natasha Landridge 2004

I took an opportunity to work with Natasha Landridge as it had been recommended to me that it would be a good test of my ability. Natasha is a celebrated playwright who had taken a very long break for theatrical writing and production. The play was very hard-hitting and I enjoyed the work a lot because it was another opportunity to work with another writer on a new play. I really responded to the lyrical nature of the text and helped Natasha wherever possible with editing.

Director, Nevermore, RedCard Theatre 2005

The production of Nevermore at the New Wimbledon Studio theatre remains my proudest professional achievement. It was reviewed and then it sold out. After our eleven performances the artistic director told me it was the best play she had seen in her time at the studio, and I was immediately offered a three week return at the end of the year. I am very proud of the play; it is heartfelt and honest.

‘One of the best plays this humble reviewer has ever seen at Wimbledon Studio, it is both directed and written by multi-talented Luke Redmond.’ WIMBLEDON GUARDIAN

Having written free-form poetry from the age of fifteen, my poetic style changed significantly in 2003. I had been working with Shakespearean texts for several years under the tutelage of two long-standing RSC professionals, both of whom had a complete understanding of and a genuine passion for his work.  I was consequently affected and inspired by Shakespeare’s verse, and upon finishing a piece of poetry one day I was surprised to find it was fourteen lines of pentameter, but with the more modern rhyme scheme of A B C D. This piece was called Next Stage and was my first sonnet, memorably written on the day of the death of Dolly, the first genetically-cloned sheep whose creation I had written about years before.

1 Next stage

I believe I’ve slowed down so much I’ve stopped
In ‘know’ trouble and no bubble has popped
Yet things are changing is it the next stage?
Turning over new leafs, turning the page
Turning the corner, the tables the tide
Pray for my time so my time I can bide
For what? For my fifteen minutes of fame
If I don’t like it I’ll just change my name
Change my tune, my tack, my heart and my mind
Till no trace is left leave nothing behind
The next stage, the new age, the next ‘best thing’
The new kid on the block, then man, then king
New world order, a new day, a new dawn
Dolly is dead however Klue is born

Klue 2003

I was interested to test Dante’s theory and set about seeing if I could write a sonnet a day for one hundred days.

It proved a challenge, not least with regards to time but more importantly with regards to content and subject. Increasingly the sonnets became insular and overtly cryptic and I began to understand the reasons, motives and themes within others’ sonnets. I began to learn about sequences and cycles and eventually about crowns.

Because of the restraints of writing one sonnet every day, I feel this volume of one hundred sonnets is understandably naive. When I had finished it I realised that I hadn’t even begun, and allowed any future sonnets to be written in their own organic time. To date I have written 411, collected into five volumes: Klue’s Odyssey, Klue’s Obligation, Klue’s Orisons, Klue’s Obituary and Robin Rhymes. I have learned about poetry and more importantly about myself, which was the original aim. I haven’t written freeform poetry since and seem incapable of breaking out of pentameter. I think in tens.

11 Television war

Once more into Baghdad dear friends, once more?
Create Term-oil with your slick mission
What is your greatest weapon in this war?
The tomahawk? Or the television
The sand storm war that tore and ripped and raged
Uncontrolled but of course calculated
All the costs counted and all the gas gauged
Until the ‘Mass’ are annihilated
The war engine is well lubricated
Greedy machines are indeed speedier
Fuelled by fear and what’s fabricated
I reported distorted media
Will I make it? Or make a decision?
To flick the switch on the television

Klue 2003

260 The scheming of my rime

I judge no man, would have no man judge me
I bear no grudge nor would not want to be?
The product or producer of this hate
I shed my skin again and change my state
I alter too the scheming of my rime
Allowed to tell the truth the proof is mine
A C B D is stolen like my life
Yet taken back because this theft is rife
I wonder Will? You examine each sheet
And follow me until we are complete
By this I mean until our ink runs dry
Till both of us are dead no more to die?
To die to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream
I change the rime yet cannot change the theme

Klue 2005

383 Nothing

No thing can be created or destroyed
just re arranged or changed or turned to base
No thing can be despised or be enjoyed
the proof of witch is etched upon my face
Written the wrinkles or formed in the frown
I walk on hands across my mirrored flaw
I spy my own reflection upside down
My smile back? No thing was as before
I flipped myself? into this wishing well?
and seal my lips? for fear of cracking dreams
The melody of witch will never tell
The sound of nothing is not what it seems
Nothing relevant? Nothing obsolete
All things are pieces now, nothing complete

Luke 2007

400 This stage

I am certain I’ve slowed so much I’ve stopped
In some trouble and one bubble has popped
Is this the end, is this the final stage?
The last act, the last scene, on the last page?
I’ve never felt led, never directed
but have not been myself for very long
I broke the rules under stand corrected
This error mine it seems that I was wrong
About what and when, about who and why?
I fix the rules again to clarify
For hundred years ago I wrote the truth?
The next stage was right, how do I have proof?
The dark descent is done and now the dawn
Klue is not dead for he was never borne

Klue 2008

408 The houses of the rising sun

One must go yet one is destined to stay
in my heart. I feel I am the latter.
You must know, that you are my summers day
can compare you to Nothing. No matter.
No words. No will. No Why or Where for art?
Thou, are my mind now, and mended my heart
I sung my song and I told my tale
but stole the tune from the nightingale.
But it was too the lyric of the lark
before the mourn let it dawn upon me
That you were what shone thus gone is my dark
and past was my tense so now I must be
Never in the house of the Rising Sun
forever in the debt of Halcyon

Robin 2008

409 Crippled craft

My little sound is well, and true and spent
still I approach the stage? and clear my throat
Don’t know the tune or where the lyrics went
I die. Search the corpse. No suicide note
I lay in coffin set and watch the gods
So I cannot be dead at least not yet
myth roughbred skill has gone to the dogs
and crippled craft is now what I beget
I hear a single voice in audience
the sound of which is music to my ear
I do not move my performance in tense?
Is everyother sole still? trapped by fear
Exeunt. I can’t accept the accolade
Was shattered once, but stronger if re-made

Robin 2008

Back to theatre portfolio.

Reviews for Nevermore – written and directed by Luke Redmond

Time Out (review by Lucy Powell)

The setting for this staccato, slightly leftfield new play about the loss of love and manuscripts is perfectly pitched to the cracked, eerie tune of the works of Edgar Allen Poe, whose poem ‘The Raven’ was its inspiration. Two large leather arm chairs dominate an otherwise unremittingly black, bleak stage. In one sits Sebastian, played by Téo Ghil, the author of nine unpublished works of unutterable genius and a determined recluse. The other is inhabited by Stephen Sobal’s Greene, who, it transpires, is Sebastian’s malicious, voluble alter ego and inner demon.

Greene falls silent when Sebastian’s solitude is broken by his stream of visitors, beginning with Ella, whom he has loved for ten long unrequited years. Hot on her heels is her husband William, who is pushing ‘The Nine Hells’ to a power-hungry publisher. Karl, the cheeky, well meaning neighbour from another play entirely delivers the post, including a dangerous bottle of clear solution, and for the final showdown Sebastian gathers everyone together to play out his carefully constructed counter-plot, before confronting the omnipresent Greene.

Writer and Director Luke Redmond sustains the odd, taut atmosphere beautifully, and, although there are more than a handful of painfully predictable moments, particularly when the play concerns itself with gender relations, the indications of his talent are everywhere apparent. It’s a great shame that Redmond didn’t develop the monotonously spiteful character of Greene, which itches to pull his play very far out of the ordinary. But, despite its glaring flaws, this is a production full of promise, and the best from this poised, intelligent new theatre company is assuredly yet to come.

Guardian (review by Yvonne Gordon)

A compelling piece of theatrical writing and acting, Nevermore is an absorbing drama about the tension between the inner and outer self. Gripping throughout, this play has everything – excellent acting, a very good script, good pacing, an atmosphere of intrigue and poetry. Its gothic undertones permeate the lives of the tragic protagonists, whose dialogue is interspersed with Edgar Allen Poe’s romantic, dark take on life as expressed in The Raven. One of the best plays this humble reviewer has ever seen at Wimbledon Studio, it is both directed and written by multi-talented Luke Redmond.

Analytical, creative but troubled Sebastian, poignantly played by Téo Ghil revels in his isolation, while at the same time taking an interest in the lives of those around him. He puts his mark on the world by writing a brilliant book, although he has no desire to achieve worldly gains. A man free from the trap of personal aggrandisement, his one desire is to heal the hurt between his ideal woman, Ella, deftly played by Jennifer Lawrence, and her husband – his former best friend William, convincingly played by Finn Sivertsen. James Card plays Karl the hippie neighbour, the significance of whom becomes apparent at the end, as everyone gets their comeuppance with a subtle twist in the tale. Enter the seductive publisher, Rebecca, well played by Mairi McHaffie, and a case of subterfuge, and you have a fantastic melting pot of human fallibility. Intelligent and well crafted, catch it if you can, because Red Card is a theatre company to look out for.

Media Whore With No Punters

I wasn’t sure what to expect as I entered the tiny (40 seat capacity) New Wimbledon Studio last Saturday night. I suppose I was there out of curiosity and loyalty first and foremost, since Luke and James are friends and colleagues of mine. However, as is often the case when viewing or listening to friend’s creative endeavours, my expectations were not set particularly high. (I’m only being honest because I was so mistaken in this case).

From the outset, Nevermore was a gripping and tense affair. And I’m not sure why this took me so much by surprise, but it was theatrical in the truest, purest sense of the word. Téo Ghil’s Sebastian, the main protagonist, possessed an intensity that I have rarely seen on stage. His ‘alter ego’ or ‘voice inside his head’, Greene, was playfully, maliciously played by Stephen Sobal.

Sebastian was at the forefront of proceedings throughout, whereas Greene would often take a back seat, metaphorically and physically, when other characters where present. The story itself deals beautifully and heart-wrenchingly with the theme of lost love – Sebastian has spent ten years mourning the loss of his true love Ella to his best friend William. However, Nevermore certainly cannot be reduced to this premise. Edgar Allen Poe’s ‘The Raven’ is recited by Sebastian (and Greene) on several occasions, and its dark, atmospheric presence can be felt even when the words themselves are not being uttered. Without giving too much away, literary comparisons can also be drawn with great Greek tragedies. The audience can guess the tragic outcome from the start, but what happens in between is no less thrilling or exciting.

As well as ‘dealing with love’ (and I apologise for the banality of my expressions, which are doing the play no justice) Nevermore is also an honest portrayal of mental illness. The choice of having Greene and Sebastian as two different actors was brilliant. Greene has so much more presence that way, and the audience can begin to understand how hard it must be for Sebastian to live with him inside his head. Greene’s constant taunts and malicious persona make evident Sebastian’s self loathing, which is otherwise hidden behind his stoic exterior.

Anyway, that’s quite enough of the psycho-babble (which probably is far off the mark anyway). I hope that Nevermore will be back, perhaps in a bigger theatre (though the studio was an excellent choice of space). In the meantime, I await this winning teams’ next offering and I promise Nevermore to be cynical.

Reviews for Pawn – written by James Card and Luke Redmond; directed by Luke Redmond

Time Out (review by Jonathan Gibbs)

This self-acknowledged riff on Sartre’s ‘In Camera’ desposits lost soul Adele at the reception desk of Hotel Limbo, from whence she can only progress to Heaven or Hell once she has beaten Gabe the bellboy at chess. Like its primary text, James Card and Luke Redmond’s play mixes witty word-play on the paradoxical notion of ‘life after death’ with a more serious attempt to make firm moral precepts for living, from the objective standpoint of death.

There to help or hinder Adele in her deliberations are Gabe, his strangely subservient boss Lucy, and one other long-term guest. Leigh is a gracefully dissipated vamp in residence since the ’40s, either because she’s too dumb to win her one game, or because she’s too drunk, or maybe just because she likes it there. Sonya Vine plays her with an offhand confidence that recasts the other actors as members of an undergraduate revue.

Doodling in the margins of classics is a dangerous pursuit, but the writers gradually convince us that there is something here more than a sketch. Jennifer Rambert’s Adele grows as she sheds her cipher camouflage and starts to come to life, as it were. Unfortunately, just when we’re sitting up and paying attention, the play abruptly halts, shortly before the hour mark. This is frustrating, not only because of the cop-out punchline, but also because one feel that, with a bit more effort in the script department, we might have had a really good play on our hands.

Wandsworth Borough News (review by Paul Nelson)

Whatever anyone thinks about the hereafter, the main thing is we do think about it. It comes as a surprise therefore to discover, as propunded in the new play Pawn at the Man in the Moon Theatre, that the authors, James Card and Luke Redmond, have put the audience on the spot by tricking us into thinking we are watching one thing whilst we are in fact watching another.

How can anyone in charge of eternity be so callous and heartless as to constantly checkmate every opponent in an eternal tournament of chess? Well, the clues in the play abound. Checking into an hotel, Adele ought to have guessed something was rum by the coupled names of the people running it – Lucy and Gabe. Gabe, the porter, or is he the manager, takes charge of Adele’s needs, though it seems strange that she is to have as a companion the languid Leigh, a longstanding guest whose knowledge of the world and chess is slightly better than is Adele’s. Leigh is blase and bored, and no wonder, she seems to have been staying at the place for ages, and is also keen to pass the time in activities of a dubious un-chesslike nature. Can anyone really make suggestive passes at complete strangers out of mere ennui?

For Adele though, things have really only just begun to cook. Different from the other guests, she experiences all sorts of tormenting pain – pain in the afterlife? – and it is this which totally winds up both the character and the audience. Is it Purgatory, Limbo or Heaven? Just where the hell is Adele?

The answer is short and sharply to the point. She ain’t where she wants to be, even after a recall. She returns to the same reception area with ostensibly the same porter, now more polite – this time though she has no luggage (you wonder is that significant too). The realisation dawns on her that she’s got what was coming, and she deserves it. But hell’s bells, that’s just not what she wants!

The play is a clever vehicle for the four members of the cast and they delight in the audience’s confusion. The plot until the end, totally enthralls. The trick is finally revealed in one single word. And it is very sudden. I laughed loud and long, and even after the curtain call found myself still amused by the sheer audacity of the play’s supposition. The actors are Jennifer Rambert as the bemused Adele, Clare Jane Webb as the put upon Lucy trying to get all things right, James Card as Gabe the wily, overbearing, until Adele’s return that is, porter, and Sonya Vine as the worldly Leigh.

Miss Vine’s performance stands out from the rest by virtue of the fact that she is probably the naughtiest girl in this or any other world, knows it, and wouldn’t change a thing. Neither would I. The play is an all too brief and very light escape from any serious thoughts and I found it very entertaining. Worth a second visit.

The Stage (review by Nick Awde)

With freezing weather and the lure of Bonfire Night festivities, this play drew an impressive house – and deservedly so. Subtitled ‘A Graphic Dream’, this debut production from Red Card Theatre is an intriguing, absorbing experience.

Adele (Jennifer Rambert) turns up at a shadowy hotel where she surprises receptionist Gabe (James Card, who also co-writes). She was expected later, he informs Adele, but checks her in the introduces her to the hotel’s only other resident, Leigh (Sonya Vine), a languid, chess-playing debutante from another age.

Enter dizzy hotel proprietor Lucy (Clare Jane Webb) and, the line-up complete, it soon becomes clear that Adele is a suicide arrived in hell – a hell that touts its trade in the manner of an exclusive health club. References cheekily abound as Adele ponders her decision to join, a nod to George Bernard Shaw’s Man and Superman and a budding lesbian relationship straight out of Jean Paul Sartre, with shades of Luis Bunuel.

As the product of two writers, Card and Luke Redmond, one senses too many ideas and motifs jostling for attention. The play wastes much of the intended irony, while the chess theme, intended as a central strand, is abandoned as a mere visual aid. Yet while the premise is patchy, one’s belief in the characters and their dilemmas is instant. Individually the actors are raw, as an ensemble they are effortlessly slick and mesmerising.

Redmond’s direction is deft with a human touch, with moody atmosphere generated by James Thompson’s lighting and sound. All in all, a partnership one should see a lot more of.