★★★½

“Auton – with the soul of a poet – is funny, self-deprecating, eager to please and brimful of hope”

Genial optimist and shaman-in-a-suit Rob Auton asks us to close our eyes at the opening of his set. For a while we sit in the dark. He asks, have we ever worn trainers that fit as snugly as our eyes in their sockets?

Ironically – for we are briefly blind – he then invites us to see life as he does: full of wonder and curiosity and moments of accidental scintillation.

For the next hour, the comedian conjures worlds where the advice on the side of a washing up liquid bottle – leave the dirtiest dishes till last to keep the water cleaner for longer – is evidence of universal kindness.

He shambles around on stage, a self-confessed hopeless mic-wrangler, appearing like “Harry Styles, only old and depressed”. He has long hair and a beard, like Jesus, which is good for a gag or two.

The ultimate shuteye is death, of course. He reflects on a visit to Heptonstall cemetery where Sylvia Plath is buried (“that’s the kind of stag do’s I get invited to”). He notes how the poet’s fans have left pens and pencils on her headstone. He admires a life that could inspire such affection.

But thinking further, he asks whether he’d swap places – dead with headstone pens or alive with pen in hand.

Alive, he believes, always alive. And what follows is an aching entreaty to the living from all those buried alongside Sylvia Plath, each yearning to return to old hobbies now denied them. Auton is not above moving sincerity in between the cute gags. Indeed, that’s his act.

But then he’s back to life’s oddities. Take blinking. He conjures a parallel world where everything is the same except people make a clucking noise when they blink.

He shambles through his set, delightfully capricious. He swears there’s a script, but he sounds like a wacky dad looking out the car window making on-the-fly observations to entertain bored kids. These thoughts often coalesce into what one might recognise as a joke, other times not so much. (Punchlines are not a priority, he declares early on). There is a fuzzy Work In Progress feel for which his charm mostly, if not entirely, compensates.

This is a funny and surprisingly touching tribute to life as a slender moment of awareness packed with opportunity. We leave the theatre high on his hippyish zeal and optimism.

The show has yet to find its full potential. But in the meantime, Auton – with the soul of a poet – is funny, self-deprecating, eager to please and brimful of hope. The winter chill is thawed by his sunny rays.

AN INTERROGATION

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“The three-strong cast is uniformly compelling”

Debuting his play in Edinburgh in 2023, writer director Jamie Armitage had to deliver this police interrogation drama in a tight 59 minutes. At the Hampstead Theatre, he uses the extra 10 minutes to great effect, packing his bonus time with an odd twitch, an extended silence or an implacable blank expression denoting nothing – not guilt or innocence.

It is these small touches – like a dab of white that brings alive a painted eye – that add so much to this exquisitely polished gem.

The set-up is familiar from a thousand cop shows: a nervous female detective is convinced of the guilt of an amiable and upstanding citizen, and she has to break down his faultless veneer against the clock. This kindly gent has given up his Sunday to amble his way towards a discussion about the unseemly business of two women, one killed a while ago and another missing.

He must answer for some strange coincidences in his tale but he’s happy to do so. Why not? He’s an establishment CEO, head of a brain injury charity, pillar of the community, knows people in Government. He has alibis up to here.

No, there’s absolutely nothing remotely guilty about middle aged, middle class Cameron Andrews. But fidgety DC Ruth Palmer has a hunch.

How will she set about the task? To what extent will she succumb to or exploit these inherent power dynamics?

And so we begin, the clock counting down in the hunt for the missing woman. Not so much cat-and-mouse as cat-and-another-cat, this one licking its self-satisfied whiskers, too clever by half and not likely to be undone by a brittle young woman.

The set is simple yet evocative. Plastic chairs, plain table. Water cooler. Yellow office lighting draining colour from already pallid skin. You can practically smell the stale sweat and cold coffee.

It’s a pin drop experience as we lean in to pick up on every inflection, and squint to analyse every tell and posture. The live-stream screen on the back wall is both a help and hindrance in this regard. Yes, it draws attention to the telling gestures for the people at the back, but the sudden close-ups also signal when A Big Moment is looming, which is clumsy in such a subtle piece.

The three-strong cast is uniformly compelling. Colm Gormley as John Culin, the mentor detective, plays his cards close to his chest. Does he have Palmer’s back, or is he playing another game entirely?

Rosie Sheehy and Jamie Ballard as Palmer and Andrews are flawless. Their softly-spoken interchanges are so light, yet so freighted. There’s not much action but they seem to morph throughout as if the mind games were physical. They reel, deflate, rise, go again. But only ever minutely.

In set-up and purpose, An Interrogation draws on influences from Silence of the Lambs to Line of Duty. So it’s tempting to play interrogation cliche bingo – her slip, his slip, the accusation, the big gamble etc.

But this absorbing play is too disciplined to oversell those moments. It is all quietly brilliant.

Good job this tense little duel lasted only about an hour. I finally got to exhale.

ROB AUTON: THE EYES OPEN AND SHUT SHOW

Soho Theatre

★★★½

“Auton – with the soul of a poet – is funny, self-deprecating, eager to please and brimful of hope”

ROB AUTON: THE EYES OPEN AND SHUT SHOW

Soho Theatre then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 1st February 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Rhys Rodrigues

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ROB AUTON

ROB AUTON

ROB AUTON

AN INTERROGATION

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“The three-strong cast is uniformly compelling”