Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me is a play you must see. The script is by turns funny, sad and consistently believable, and the acting and production values in this Corpus Lateshow are amongst the best I’ve seen in Cambridge.

The action revolves around three characters – an Englishman, an Irishman and an American. The three meet as hostages in a Middle Eastern cell, and it is here the action unfolds. That is not to say that the play is not hugely entertaining - it is - but it is also challenging and at times disturbingly violent. For a play that could be accused of riding on the back of the publicity of the hostage-taking of recent years, it is worth noting that it was written almost twenty years ago; little seems to have changed.

Corpus is a tricky and limiting space – not all plays work here. Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me could not have been more perfect in the Playroom. There was little required in the way of set, and it was refreshing to see a play that worked with, rather than fought against, the bleakness of the space. The much-maligned central door provided the crux around which everything was arranged and was powerfully placed to induce the feelings of fear and potential danger that an entrance would bring for the characters. Credit should be given to the production team for what was not done rather than what was; the exception being the understated but highly effective creative decision to shave all three actors’ heads.

This is an apt representation of their commitment to their roles. Michael Campbell’s (playing ‘The Irishman’, Edward) only fault was that at times he was so believable he threw his fellow cast-mates into a distinctly ‘actor-y’ light. The performative element of his character could’ve pushed the boundaries of cliché; instead he brought an energy and ease to the stage. Arthur Kendrick (‘The American’, Adam) was similarly engaging, and often superb, but did not always achieve the right level of intensity required to convey the simmering frustrations and violence that lay just beneath the tranquillity of Adam’s personality. Akin to Kendrick, Harry Baker (as ‘The Englishman’, Michael) occasionally failed to attain the nuances necessary for create a fully credible character, but if there is one thing a year at Cambridge teaches people, it’s how to possess an air of unjustified superiority, and this he did perfectly. All had stand-out moments – Adam’s singing of Amazing Grace, Michael’s tennis match, Edward’s impressions – but it is their interaction that deserves most praise. The best way of describing this is as unselfish – a rare thing to find on a Cambridge stage.

All too often productions at Corpus are pushed into the bracket of ‘Great play, shame about the use of space’. In this case it was ‘Brilliant play, shame about the poster’. In a theatre environment as fickle as Cambridge, decent publicity really is key – I would urge you to believe this reviewer’s hype over that which the publicity team has created for them. A plea to would-be directors at Corpus, in the words of my much-harangued supervisor seizing upon a rare, pleasing turn of phrase - ‘More like this please!’