Honest, Assembly Rooms
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Is honesty always the best policy? For Dave, the angry young man protagonist of DC Moore’s searing - and searingly funny - playlet, it’s the only policy.
Whether it’s his toddler nephew or his inept colleague in the line of fire, Dave is hard-wired to tell the truth - and more often than not, it hurts. This is his tale of one long day’s journey into night, flinging insults at anything that moves in a boozy stagger through London until dawn breaks and brings with it a few painful home truths.
DC Moore has already shown himself to be a fine writer of tense, glittering ensemble drama, first in Alaska and more recently in The Empire, both at the Royal Court. This 45-minute monologue, staged in the snug of a bustling pub off Princes Street, provides ample opportunity to revel in the playwright’s dazzling way with words. Nothing is safe from Dave’s simmering rage – the civil service, work nights out (“80s music so tedious it will make your heart stop”), the shiny yuppies of Clapham, private schools. The observations are razor-sharp, the wit biting, the voice unmistakably that of modern, disillusioned, Britain.
As the tipsy misanthrope, Trystan Gravelle, clutching a bottle of Bud, gives a pitch-perfect performance. At once vituperative and chummily conspiratorial, his sing-song bile grips from the first minute to the last. Highly recommended.
To 30 Aug (0131 623 3030)
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments