It has been said before that the character of a nation derives from its institutions, that is, the ones it cleaves to in its public life.  Much has changed in Britain since David Hare turned his gaze on the pillars of the establishment in the late eighties, not least the removal of barriers to women becoming bishops in 2014. So to some degree Jonathan Church’s revival, for his first outing as new artistic director of Bath’s Theatre Royal, is against the backdrop of battles already won and the first estate, if not in retreat, at least wondering (still) how best to retrench in a country whose character seems to be under permanent review.

David Haig is Rev.Lionel Espy, the parish vicar flirting with the idea that absence of evidence is evidence of absence as he finds his urgent and sincere prayers for social justice unanswered. Mr. Haig gives us a man of deep humanity, sound intentions and sincere belief who is nonetheless hollowed out spiritually by his inability to offer real comfort to his parishioners, for fear of compromising his ministry.  His is a character, like so many a TV cop, who gives everything to his work and leaves nothing for those loved ones around him who become, unintentionally and unwittingly, peripheral to his existence. A man for whom the sacraments are of less importance than tending the needs, as he sees them, of those deemed to be in his care; for whom bums on pews are secondary to lives free from want. In short a man earnest to a fault, but without the stereotypical holiness too often used as shorthand for stage vicars.  Considered in movement and thought with a residual vigour revealed in faint bursts as when he plots his own defense against removal from his parish. Caught by a fleeting prospect of romance like the sudden, dazzling reflection of the sun from an opening window that vanishes as surprisingly as it appears he shows us the best of men, rounded with human frailty, but with a compass that doesn’t show the way to ‘compromise’.

Enjoying the fag end of his life bound to service is the vicar’s wife, Heather (Amanda Root) who is drained of real purpose from having played second fiddle to the church throughout their married life.  It is a small part, which is played with generosity in its self-effacing ordinariness.

Paapa Essiedu is the shiny new, all-believing, evangelical, Rev Tony Ferris, who has turned the head of the Bishop of Southwark (Anthony Calf) with dreams of swelling congregations and turns Queen’s evidence on his boss, Espy, who has, in small business terms, failed to turn an enquiry into a sale by sending away an abused wife (Michelle Bonnard) without pitching for Jesus. No less than Espy, he is on the verge of a life given over to the church to which end he eschews the love of Frances (Rebecca Night) with the admission that their relationship, ‘dissipates my energy’.

The fourth estate comes in for a bit of a kicking in the shape of a muck raking tabloid journo (Ashley Russell) who is bent on regaling his readers with a detailed rundown of the ins and outs of the love life of gay vicar, Harry Henderson (Ian Gelder) a loyal friend and colleague of Espy.

It’s an interesting choice of play to kick off the summer season and one can only surmise that Mr Church is setting down some kind of marker.  It is a play, primarily of ideas, that whilst it may have lost some of its bite, has lost none of its depth, which in this production is brought out by all-round excellent acting being facilitated by sensitive and penetrating direction.  ★★★★☆   Graham Wyles   28^th June 2017

Photos © Nobby Clark