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The poignant, powerful ensemble piece looks at immigration from the point of view of the migrants themselves. It features 200 Chickenshed members, students, staff and alumni most of whom are on stage most of the time – telling stories through words, dance, song and theatricality.

We start with a long pre-show prologue as we find our seats during which we hear a register of immigrants who have died – drowned, lost, suicide, police brutality and more. We listen in silent horror while cast members act out some of the tensions in slow motion.

Thereafter we’re led to consider what we mean by home, the importance of family, the horror of the overcrowded boats, the ruthlessness of the people smugglers and the treatment of immigrants on arrival. There is a marvellous moment when MD Dave Carey, who composed the music for this show, is wheeled centre stage, still playing the white piano on a mobile platform which then becomes a refugee boat. And a word of praise for Andrew Caddies’s lighting because it’s warmly atmospheric against the backdrop of Sebastian Gonzalez’s set which includes scaffold, stairs and three levels for cast to stand on against the back wall.

Inclusivity is central to everything Chickenshed does and stands for and the whole concept of this show is to draw attention to the plight of migrants. It contends that they should be inclusively welcomed because we all descend from migrants which has what has made Britain what it is today – the piece ends movingly with various cast members speaking of fathers, grandfathers and great grandfathers who came from overseas and who became integrated, working in a wide variety of fields.

There is also agonising sadness – the young man who lost his younger brother’s hand as he climbed into a boat and the mother whose child was no longer in her arms when she woke up, for example.

The vibrant dancing – there are some talented dancers in the company – underpins the message. And I liked the imaginative choreography such as one character climbling up a lifted table held at 45 degrees and then over a block of bent backs to represent obstacles. Also striking is the contribution of Edith WeUtonga who plays various African percussion alongside Carey and sings hauntingly.

It’s a compelling, thought-provoking show and yet another credit to Chickenshed which does an impressively wide range of work these days. Congratulations to director, Lou Stein and the many people who work with him.

Unfortunately this looks likely to be my last review for the forseeable future. Just before I arrived at Chickenshed the news came through that the Government is advising people not to go to theatres because of Covid-19. That means most will close for the duration of the current crisis. I hope to be back when it’s over.

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“My old brain is troubled” says Michael Pennington as Prospero – a loaded line which I don’t think I’ve noticed before. And it’s typical of Pennington to make sure I hear it now: one of our finest ‘Shakespearean’ actors, he paces the verse with smooth, elegant clarity, while, at the same time, making it sound as fresh and conversational as if it were written yesterday. It’s like listening to a virtuoso at the very top of his/her game playing a concerto with enormous expertise and feeling. And of course he sets the tone for everyone else in the company.

It’s a key line too. When we first see Prospero he is angry, cunning and vengeful, conjuring the titular tempest by blowing on a toy boat. A man – shoulders hunched, head bent and given to mood swings – in the early stages of dementia? Kirsty Bushell’s loving, caring, concerned Miranda clearly thinks so. Then of course, her father gets a last burst of lucid, manipulative wisdom before commenting presciently that once he gets home to Milan “Every third thought shall be my grave”. This intelligent take on The Tempest, directed by Tom Littler, is among other things study of old age and peaceful resolution of life’s issues – a very different slant from King Lear.

Bushell has an evocatively expressive face – dirty because she lives on an isolated island and knows nothing of ladylike conventions (nice touch). Her tenderness towards her father and the warmth of her attraction to Ferdinand (Tam Williams) are very touching.

Although this production provides some of the funniest Trinculo (Peter Bramhill) and Stephano (Richard Derrington) scenes I’ve ever seen, Littler and his cast also bring out the ugliness of the ‘colonial’ attitude toward Caliban (Tam Williams, doubling as several cast members do). Almost naked in just a tattered loin cloth and a whole head mask made of dirty, mummy-like bandages this Caliban is covered in weals from abuse. He cowers, weeps and is pitifully undignified. 21st Century audience sympathy is definitely with the ‘monster’ as, appalled, we condemn the actions of Trinculo and Stephano even as we laugh at them. Bramhill, in a flat cap, with northern accent and a delightfully insouciant manner including asides not written by Shakespeare, is particularly entertaining.

Whitney Kehinde is a terrific Ariel dancing around the stage, eyes flashing. Her songs are graced with atonal settings (Max Pappenheim) supported by strange, ethereal echoes beneath them – they sound like the sort of thing Radio 3 broadcasts after 11pm but they work effectively in this context. She is also delightful when she lurks ‘unseen’ among other characters and very human when she pleads for her freedom from Prospero.

I liked Pappenheim’s realistic marine sound track and his storms. And it all sits well on the set by Neil Irish and Anett Black which gives us curved shelves on the back wall, a gauzy stage right curtain and a shallow centre stage hatch. It’s yet another example of what can be achieved in a bijou playing space.

This is a succinct (2 hours 20 minutes with interval) The Tempest which, mercifully, cuts very short the often tedious masque scene in Act 4. The cutting helps to make sure that the story telling is powerful and compelling. It would make a fine introduction to Shakespeare for a first-timer of any age as well as being a thoughtful contribution to the interpretation debate for those of us who’ve been seeing/reading/studying the play for years.

Kirsty Bushell (Miranda) and Tam Williams (Ferdinand). Photo: Robert Workman

Configured in-the-round with audience on all four sides with big panels featuring Grecian figures and shapes dominating two of them (design by Rachael A Smith), the Studio felt pretty atmospheric – and tense, because we are, after all, in the middle of the Trojan wars. A relentless drum tattoo and the whole cast on stage looking variously anxious, puzzled, fired up at the beginning is a good idea to convey that tension but arguably it was sustained for too long. After several minutes the audience was getting restive.

There are some fine performances in this show. Dan Ghigeanu stands out as Paris – direct, sure of himself and all over Helen (Matilda Scott – good) who has been famously whisked off to Troy, thereby causing a war. Chigeanu’s strong delivery works very well.

Lewis Dempsey – with expressive face and sensitive naturalistic delivery – gives an impressive account of Troilus and Darcy Priston is fun as the perceptive, fearless Thersites, one of Shakespeare’s most engaging fools. Roy Clarke is an excellent Achilles. He gets the fierce loyalty combined with not being over-bright perfectly.

There is a problem, however, with staging a youth company in the round. It takes a great deal of experience to engage an audience fully and audibly when you can face only a quarter of them at a time. Some lines in this show were lost because they simply couldn’t be heard from all sides of the auditorium – and this applied especially to the female voices because they’re higher pitched. And that, unfortunately, meant that the story telling wasn’t as strong as it might have been.

Director Paul Ainsworth and his team of keen young actors have clearly worked very hard on this interesting production and it does them all credit. Quite a journey with a play which is by no means an obvious or easy choice.

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The late Philip Osment’s last play is, as you’d expect, powerful, painful and poignant. Addressing some deeply difficult issues (Samaritans contact details are provided in the programme) the play is set on Beachy Head at night – with Max Pappenheim’s sound track providing the continuous, slightly threatening, rhythm of breaking waves.

Gabriel Vick is a policeman, Frances, covered in (someone else’s) blood at the end of a difficult day which has awakened dreadful memories of his own past. Just as he’s poised to jump Susan Aderin’s Fifi arrives – eccentric, funny, wise with a whole raft of unhappiness in her own life. Through the night they talk, eventually revealing their pasts and redeeming each other to such an extent that by morning when the sun rises (lighting: Ian Scott) there is definitely hope for both of them.

It’s imaginatively directed (Jim Pope) nicely nuanced acting as they fence around each other, he initially exasperated and she incredulous. There’s a lot of warmth there, though, as each slowly comes to understand the other. These actors spark effectively off each other and I admired the versatility of their frequent dips into other roles as they relive their troubled pasts – all done with nothing other than body language, accent and acting. There’s an especially striking moment when Fifi cuddles the “baby” she remembers – but it’s not the happy memory it should be.

Mental health problems are all around us and need to be taken very seriously – and drama is doing it’s utmost to support that. This is the second play addressing such issues I’ve seen in 48 hours. And if these explorations can a) raise awareness and empathy in those of us who are mentally healthy and b) help people who aren’t to understand that they’re not alone so that they can reach out for help – than that is a very good thing. I’d be the last person to suggest that drama has to have a purpose to justify it’s existence but it can be useful when it does.

This is an arresting piece of theatre, though, and well worth seeing for its own sake too.

Susan Aderin and Gabriel Vick. Photo: Bridie O’Sullivan

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Rooted in his own experience of growing up in Aberdeen and then moving to a larger city to train at LIPA, Jack Hesketh’s one-man play is thoughtful, moving and entertaining.

We’re in a young man’s bedsit and we follow him as he gets up on several mornings and goes out variously meeting friends, on a date and doing what he needs to do – addressing the audience continually as he reflects on his own state of mind and enacts his encounters. He remembers his parents and talks to his dead father too, all the time trying to come to terms with his own anxiety and depression.

Hesketh is a charismatic and personable actor. He tiptoes, dances, mimes, uses the space imaginatively (director Coral Tarran has done a good job), talks naturalistically to the audience and is often quite funny. At the end of the fifty minutes we, the audience, are onside and rather sorry when it’s over.

Dominic Beale’s sound design provides rhythmic music for the young man to wake up to and a harsh grating sound like a radio which has wandered off the signal whenever the protagonist has a moment of anxiety. Red lights come on at the same time. It’s a simple device but it works,

LIPA has a strong tradition of encouraging its graduands and graduates to make their own work and supporting them to do so. Hesketh is clearly another example of that ethos and I suspect we shall we hearing/seeing a lot more of him very soon. It’s also good to see yet another piece exploring mental health – so many people have problems that these are issues which really can’t be visited too often.