Concrete Playground

It's no wonder, really, that he was known as Mr Glamour. In this cheeky, anti-sexy and downright fun production, Gareth Davies is a force to be reckoned with.

Flipping the theatre archetype on its head and then messing up its hair a bit, And They Called Him Mr Glamour is an unexpected insight into the universe of a rising (or perhaps remaining still) star. A startling rant that makes you rethink whatever you thought you were doing here, sitting in a theatre. All the paranoia, self-loathing and pure star quality is there. And the sound of actors treading the boards of the Upstairs Theatre only adds to the production.

Davies last appearance at Belvoir Downstairs was one to remember, but this time he does away with the script and relies solely on one of his own making. As if that weren't enough of a challenge, the entire script is a monologue. In lesser hands, this would be a big mistake, but Davies carries it off with an overload of awkward charisma (which, surprisingly enough, isn't an oxymoron). Director Thomas M. Wright surely has no small hand in this either.

That said, the set and lighting design is almost as endearing as Davies himself. This intricate and impressive array of bulbs, glass jars, wooden panels, miscellaneous instruments, grit and the occasional piece of Ikea furniture does exactly as it should: overwhelms, and then becomes nothing more than a tool in Davies' capable hands.

If theatre is not at all your thing, there couldn't be a better introduction than this. The strange thing about it all is that it's definitely still 'theatre'. And great theatre at that. The whole thing is just the right level of confronting and the right level of laughs to make it all work out quite nicely.

Image: Heidrun Lohr