Writing fiction about struggling to write fiction is tough. Given that writers block comes naturally to anyone with a pen in their hand, it’s an extensively covered topic, and so a hard one to tackle without falling into the realm of cliché. This is, of course, on top of having to manage the uncomfortable paradox of attempting to articulate a lack of articulation, when it is precisely this lack which has presumably inspired the writer in the first place. Unfortunately, Worlds End fails to say anything new, or indeed say anything in a particularly provocative or captivating way.

As a play set in the present day, it also feels slightly dated. Originally written in 2008, the play’s anxieties about recession economy and bohemian faux-multiculturalism are certainly still relevant, but like a small-scale version of our writing-about-writing dilemma, the topics have since been written about so prolifically that the play’s socio-political commentary feels very much like a restatement. Sellar’s mockery of the middle class may be enough to generate a few laughs from the audience, but nothing more.

The flaws of ‘Broken Britain’ are over-dramatically expounded upon by Ben (Robin Owen) a troubled writer who aggressively refuses to leave his flat, thus creating tension whilst ex-girlfriend Kat, aided by her friend and new boyfriend, moves out her belongings. The role demands rapid fluctuations between obnoxiousness and vulnerability, so that the audience can feel sorry for Kat’s having to cope with him, whilst being able to sympathise with a struggling man still desperately in love. Unfortunately, much of Owen’s performance felt heavy-handed, and lacked the tonal variation needed to adequately portray Ben’s emotional instability, meaning that the character often came across as flatly blasé. However, there were moments towards the end of Worlds End where Owen shone in making Ben’s tragic fragility suddenly and heart-rendingly visible, creating some of the strongest and most wonderfully human moments of the play.

Indeed, Worlds End was at its best when dealing with being human. The tableaux which opened the piece presented short bursts of Kat and Ben’s progressing relationship, and Howell and Owen deftly varied the mood between being lightly comic and touchingly sad, creating a five minute emotional roller coaster in which neither character spoke. The authentic feel of their relationship was buttressed by a well-made and realistic set. Comprised of a mixture of items from the banal to the exotic, including both attractive old and cheap new furniture, the set risked seeming like a mishmash of hauled-together props, but proved reflective of a collected life still in the progress of collection. The play might not have said anything new, but in this aspect at least there was an amusing yet poignant portrayal of what it is to fall in and out of love.

While Worlds End makes for perfectly pleasant viewing, it fails to excite, inspire or provide a great deal of insight. Attend in anticipation of an enjoyable evening, but not of anything more profound.

Worlds End runs at Corpus Playroom until Saturday 11th January