Writer and Director: Jon Lawrence
A table, three chairs and an overhead light comprise the stark set of a police interview room. In this space, stands a middle-aged dapper man in tweeds with smoothed back hair, polished leather shoes and a yellow carnation in his lapel. How did this smartly dressed individual come to be here, accused of murder? He doesn’t look like a murderer, but then again, one of the policewomen, with a tattooed neck, doesn’t look like a member of the constabulary. Appearances can be deceptive.
Trials of a Gentleman, a one-hour, one-man, one-act show, explores the divergence between image and impulse, mask-wearing and performativity. We hear David Martin’s story. Born in 1960, he chooses to live his life in an earlier era. Drawn to the 1940s, when men were men, women were women, and everyone knew who they were, it recalls the movies he saw with his beloved mother. Here, they could both escape, and she could hide the bruises dealt out by a violent husband.
As his story unspools, chronologically, from start to finish, we come to understand what brought Martin here. Plagued by the ugliness of the modern world, this well-dressed outsider has no significant relationship. When he develops an infatuation with a younger female teacher in the primary school where he teaches, the memories of a domineering and violent father are reactivated through a bullying and predatory head teacher. The audience senses a disaster brewing, but the dramatic beats are so clearly marked that there are no great surprises.
Visually and aesthetically, Trials of a Gentleman works a treat. Lighting and sound by James Connor set up a series of shadowy scenes, like stills from a film noir, while the nostalgic, comforting music reinforces the protagonist’s sensibilities. While the performance is consistent, it lacks directorial input that could have brought more texture and dynamism to the story. While there are many characters in the narrative, we hear only one voice, that of adult David Martin. Presented straight on with little subtext, even the crime itself is nostalgic, a good old-fashioned killing straight from the pages of G.K Chesterton.
While the dialogue, florid and purple in places, speaks to the affectations of the character, who you feel never finds his authentic self, it also slows down the action. There are two moments when you think the story might move into more interesting territory, one where he deconstructs the term ‘gay’ and another where he confesses he loves children. These promising narrative segues lead nowhere, and we land squarely back in the world of uncomplicated murder. David Martin is a character rich with potential, well conveyed by Kit Smith, but one feels there are more layers to be excavated in the man and his story.
Runs until 28 March 2026
