We, the English, those old folks who cherish our green and pleasant lands. We, the English, who in modern times can separate ourselves so comfortably from the wars that happen overseas. We, the English, who consume entire lives and travesties through a six inch LCD screen for three hours and then totter over to Pret. We used to be a glorious and feisty nation! And wasn’t that glorious.

I don’t think so, and I don’t think Irisa Kwok does either. In a small and confined space that is in desperate need of some air-conditioning installed (I’m not all English and I have a little American in me, so sorry to the Larkum and sorry to the world), Kwok managed to take a small but eager audience on a fantastic journey that painted a pumped vignette of the destruction of English inclination in the Great War, through the story of writer and wartime nurse Vera Brittain.

“This script is one assurance that some Oxbridge students have a trace of intelligence inside of them”

Maybe in part of my American sensibilities, I know embarrassingly little about the First World War in comparison to the second, and I had never heard of Vera Brittain beforehand. Yet both Kwok’s writing and direction, and a fantastically emotive portrayal by Amy Brian, allowed Brittain to be transported to the present that she otherwise perhaps might seem so separated from. Often, despite the Great War context not resonating completely on my part, recognisable elements of dangerous patriotism and beguiled youthful ideals spoke to modern political climates that we all claim to have a stronger hold upon. Brittain attended Somerville College, Oxford, for one year before the war: I found I related a little too much to some of the teenage conversations where stupidity made its subjects sound a lot smarter than they actually were. I jest, of course. This script is one assurance that some Oxbridge students have a trace of intelligence inside of them.

“Layered sound and flashing lights brought scenes to life”

The script is phenomenal. In particular, Kwok’s care with the story of Edward Brittain (played by Joe Short) and his relationship with his sister Vera was the emotional cynosure of the plot. How often do we hide things out of the shame that society places on us? I would have liked to have seen more of this aspect of the story, but due to cast illnesses on the night we were not able to see the full extent of it; however, I have full faith that this aspect is explored with the emotional backing that we were lucky enough to witness on the night.

In technical aspects, the rehearsed read was very impressive, and I have to congratulate Eli Bertuccioli and Hei Yan Tsui for their work on the lighting and sound design respectively. Layered sound and flashing lights brought scenes to life. I admire Kwok’s direction and other technical input on this behalf: the rehearsed reading, despite scripts being in hand, was really elevated by this and evoked an engagement from the audience that was needed to be able to appreciate the ethereal writing.

This is a script that is very powerful, but I did often feel my mind drifting to questioning whether the stage is the correct medium for this piece. The textual excitement of swooping, romantic poetry was sometimes drowned in the fact that there was almost too much of it. The rehearsed reading was three hours long, and despite the intrigue brought by technical elements, incredible performances and a plethora of fascinating content, I unfortunately found myself disengaged in parts as the play continued to go on and on. I do not think, however, that any moment of the story felt drastically unneeded; despite the stretched length, there were few parts of the told story that felt uninhabited. I hope that this piece is developed further outside of the theatrical, in a context that allows its poetry to be savoured and indulged in. We, the English, continue to show love for BBC historical drama. In future, I do hope to see this project basked in the light that it truly deserves. And not just the five par can lights in the Larkum studio.