I cannot even begin to tell you how uplifting it was to see three-time Academy Award nominee Laura Linney at the Bridge Theatre delivering Elizabeth Strout’s book, My Name is Lucy Barton, which was aptly adapted for the stage by Rona Munro. Tickets sold out fast for Linney and so far the Bridge Theatre has been receiving great reviews ever since its pioneering production, Julius Caesar (read my review here) was staged. I didn’t stop myself from booking a seat for the production after it, Nightfall (my review here) written by Barney Norris with cast actor, Ophelia Lovibond. And here I am again regaling my positive feelings for the Bridge Theatre.

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I don’t know if audience reactions are contagious but it certainly felt like that tonight. This shall teach me to believe 5-star reviews. Seriously, what the hell did I just watch? I feel completely fooled here, and I’m not the only one. Sitting in the dark at the packed out Almeida Theatre, I spent most of my evening with my mouth open gesturing ‘eh?’ That’s exactly how I felt, and at least 20 people around me upstairs in the circle.

The Writer, written by Ella Hickson and directed by Blanche McIntyre, is complicated. I get that. Its complexity, multiple scene changes and lapse between a play-within-a-play terrain can throw off the audience a little, but, even still, somehow it holds your gaze. (Sorry but this isn’t a spoiler-free write-up, so move off if you genuinely want to see this play because what I have to say may encourage you to return your ticket pronto if you’ve got a ticket already.)

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