MALC McGOOKIN appreciates a graphic novel that records the history of the legendary peace camp and surveys the state of the right to protest in contemporary Britain
The Book of Grace
Arcola Theatre, London
THIS three-hander by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Suzan-Lori Parks could have been a straightforward domestic drama, with the return of an estranged son and former soldier to the house of his domineering, xenophobic, border-guard father, Vet, on the entreaty of his eternally optimistic wife, Grace, who believes reconciliation is possible.
The scaffold and barbed-wire border fence spanning the living room set, and the divergent opening monologues delivered by the isolated characters, immediately divests us of such a simple reading.
Vet, played with unpredictable hostility and simmering fury by Peter De Jersey, reveres the fence and his uniform. Ambivalent about his son’s return, he is concerned that Buddy will intrude on his vigilant isolationism and steal some of the limelight from an upcoming award ceremony in his honour.
MARY CONWAY becomes impatient with the intellectual self-indulgence of Tom Stoppard in a production that is, nevertheless, total class
Although this production was in rehearsal before the playwright’s death, it allows us to pay homage to his life, suggests MARY CONWAY
JAN WOOLF is beguiled by the tempting notion that Freud psychoanalysed Hitler in a comedy that explores the vulnerability of a damaged individual
MARIA DUARTE is in two minds about a peculiar latest offering from Wes Anderson



