There is a very special feel as you enter the Bunker, the small underground venue that opened in 2016 in a small former car park and are greeted with an eclectic mix of furniture, a deep red pile carpet, walls draped with oriental rugs and house lights provided by a varied mix of household lampshades. It feels one of the most relaxing spaces you can imagine to watch a performance with plenty of legroom to stretch out in.
It turns out to be a perfect setting for this highly personal account of the author's long term friendship with the theatrical maverick Ken Campbell, a director I was not aware of before but now wish I had seen his work. The writer of the piece, for it does not have the feel of a play, Terry Johnson stands centre stage behind a lectern and reads his account of their work together. He perfectly captures the frustration, bemusement but ultimately deep affection he developed for his friend in their work together and over the course of ninety minutes draws us in to share his sadness at his passing.
