"Lunatic of Dust" - a review by Shaun Spock

I have just returned from quite simply the most extraordinary afternoon of ground-breaking theatre it has ever been my privilege to witness!! Gwenda Bartram's simply magnificent touring production of LUNATIC OF DUST by Ethan Whorwell may run over five hours and feature an apparently wilfully misguided central performance by Lionel Blair, but its themes - love, suicide, chocoholism and humility - are ones with which we can all identify, and I defy anyone not to weep buckets at the prolonged danse macabre (performed as a solo entr'acte by Blair) during the tantalisingly over-extended interval. Nicol Williamson's cameo as Inspector Henry during the notorious heist sequence is quite simply the greatest performance ever given by anyone on any stage ever, and a triumphant return to form for this most wayward of thesps. I had the great joy of interviewing Gwenda Bartram some years ago as part of my GCSE in theatre at Tifton Secondary: she was refreshingly dismissive of the so-called greats of British theatre (including Sir "Melon" Quayle and Petula Pinner), and an - at the time - reviled proponent of the gargle method of voice production. This production is vindication not only of her individual methods, but a triumph of organisation and choreography. Set in the recent future in a country not dissimilar to one very different from our own, LUNATIC details the transgressive love affair of chocoholic troubadour Serge (Blair) and his decision to rob the Bank of Luxembourg to fund his carbohydrate cravings. The highlight of course is the third act heist. This is played in complete silence, and indeed darkness, and lasts an extraordinary two hours. For those brave enough to last the distance, it ends with an astonishing coup-de-theatre and the first, indeed only, appearance of Nicol Williamson. This afternoon a restraining order meant we were denied any kind of onstage fisticuffs between Messrs Blair and Williamson but I'm told that Friday's performance was especially electrifying and violent. The marathon play ends as it began - deep in the sewers of Luxembourg - with Serge dying of chocolate poisoning in the arms of his beloved Susan (a rather bland performance from newcomer Ilyana Ellis). Tickets are still available at most prices throughout the tour, and I say - in defiance of the so-called national critics - go, go, go. Not since Sir Cameron's LES MIS have I been so moved.