Roger Mortimer (Dad) is a solidly middle class chap; Eton, the Guards, the Times (horse racing correspondent). What could be more backbone than that? The son; Eton, the Guards, drugs, booze, sex (all sorts) and AIDS – what could be more interesting and potentially tragic? One can understand how a producer could be seduced by the prospect of bringing such rich lives to the stage by way of an award winning book, with, to boot, the enticing prospect of a ‘much loved’ actor playing opposite his real life son. But a heap of interesting stuff does not make a play.

Having started life as a work of comic literature, in the form of letters from a father to his son (Lupin), this is a play, which has some difficulty in struggling off the page and onto the stage. Being kind one could say it has its moments, but there is too much simple recitation of the letters and not enough direct interaction to launch it beyond the sphere of whimsy. That is to say, although there are for the most part two people on stage, there is too much residual monologue, which inevitably keeps the piece in the realm of ‘telling’ rather than showing. The saving grace is the undoubted wit and insight of Roger whose understanding and calm hand on the tiller of his son’s wayward life bore late, but lasting approval.

Fox Snr. (James) was a little hesitant last night as if he was still feeling his way into the part. Where he did shine was in the little character cameos that are sprinkled through the show, all done largely with a wig and a series of hats and favourite amongst which was the dodgy Chelsea antiques dealer with a mouthful of profanities. One recalls his threatening gangster in Performance with a lament that subsequent work has largely seen him in a variety of patrician and grandee roles all of which he can do without breaking sweat.

Fox Junior (Jack), acting with his pa, was able to use the curious blood chemistry of father and son to bring a genuine warmth to the role, which takes him through writer, Charlie Mortimer’s life with dad’s letters as signposts. Making the most of Adrian Linford’s memory-room set, director, Philip Franks, had him climbing up shelves and cabinets and leaping onto tables – all, unfortunately, a little contrived.

As a touching portrait of a particular take on humanity through the description of a father-son relationship it will undoubtedly find an audience to entertain.    ★★★☆☆    Graham Wyles    21/04/15 at Bath.