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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.

I arrived at Tower Theatre for Sweat with no idea of what to expect. I have limited experience of Lynn Nottage’s work and didn’t know this play. In the event I was – unexpectedly – quite bowled over. This is the first amateur performance of Sweat (it had a West End run in 2018) in the UK and I doubt that it could be in better hands than those of this strong cast and their director, Ian Hoare.

A powerful play, it is about a community being torn apart by the changes in the industry which sustains them all. It examines the effect of job loss on individuals and families and has its roots in meetings Nottage had with redundant steel workers in Reading, Pennsylvania. It’s angry, anguished writing.

The first half feels a bit episodic and it’s a while before it’s clear that this is a story being told with time shifts and a framing device. Factory bosses need/want fewer workers although families have worked in this industry for generations. The workers meet continually in a bar which acts as theatrical glue. Tensions mount, especially in the second act, when one of them is promoted to management. Then there’s an incident which leads to two young men going to prison and it’s their being interviewed by a quasi social worker which frames the rest of the piece.

The quality and conviction of the acting is outstanding. Isaiah Bobb-Semple is a charismatic young performer who brings throughtful warmth to the cerebral Chris who should have gone to college instead of prison. Lande Belo, as his mother, develops her character with real truthfulness from a relatively carefree factory worker enjoying herself with her friends to a suited manager trying to be fair, keep her job and not betray her mates and, eventually a weary woman trying to survive by doing two menial jobs.

Peta Barker is impressively naturalistic as the social worker trying to talk sense into two sulky young men and Matthew Vickers is a very believable barman listening to his customers/friends and trying to keep the peace. I was also very taken with Richard Bobb Simple (presumably he and Isaiah are father and son in real life, too) as the pitiful, broken Brucie.

At the performance I saw that there was a technical problem at the beginning which meant that two actors started the show almost unlit. It is greatly to their credit and professionalism that they simply carried on until, about ten minutes in, the issue was resolved. It didn’t affect the quality or impact of the show at all because it was so competently worked round.

This is a show which hits you squarely between the eyes especially at the shocking climax and in the simplicity of the very last line – spoken by Carlos Fain-Binda as Oscar. Well done, Tower Theatre.