The Independent on Sunday , 20 July 2003
by Janet Street-Porter

**Thanks, Catherine

Last Thursday Kenneth Branagh returned to the West End stage for the first time in 11 years with an extraordinary performance as the central character in David Mamet's 20-year-old, one-act drama, 'Edmond'. It bears a resemblance to John Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress', but is set on the sleaziest streets of New York. Edmond leaves his wife and subsequently embarks on a rapid descent into hell, killing a waitress and ending up in jail. Before long, Ken's got all his kit off and the Branagh genitalia are wobbling about for all the £10 audience (this is part of the very commendable cheap-ticket season at the National Theatre) to see.

The nudity is irrelevant really as the play itself is such a scorcher. No one does visceral dialogue better than David Mamet. Branagh's accent is perfect, his white, slightly flabby body a pleasingly believable specimen. The trouble is this one-act play would be better seen in more intimate surroundings, with a smaller cast. Instead, the National has thrown a lot of money on a revolving set, a neon crucifix and a lavish bar. I would have preferred to see half-a-dozen actors double up and play several roles - some characters are on stage for only a couple of lines - and kept the props to a minimum. It all tends to detract from what Branagh is doing - a thoroughly compelling piece of work.


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