whilst under its former title Mad Tigers And Bears , the following was said of I Am Not An I

Interviewed on the BBC radio programme Late Night Live, Edward D'arcy Hatton tells Linda McDermott of his latest engagement with The Grand Opera Gala, as part of this year's celebration of Liverpool as the European City of Culture. Ed went on to express his delight and excitement at having secured a cameo appearance in Mad Tigers And Bears - since reneamed, I Am Not An I

Of early drafts the following theatres said

"..neatly conceived...inventive in character and theme.."

Royal Court

(the lead female role) "..is your greatest triumph. Simulatneously irritating and heartbreaking, she is complex and charismatic...theatre is the best medium for the piece.."

Soho Theatre

The following review is reproduced with the kind permission of  Ewen Moore, Hearsay  Magazine.

Mad Tigers And Bears  is a new play by Stephen M. Hunt. It was performed as a rehearsed reading at the intimate Brockley Jack Theatre for one night only 31st May, 2008, but on the strength of this performance, a full production is surely waiting in the wings.

At the centre of the play is an impossible dichotomy - how does one write a play about the way language imposes limitations on human behaviour, using that very same "limiting" language? The fact that the play thrives on this seemingly impossible dilemma is partly why it is so successful.

Set variously (or perhaps simultaneously?) on The Spanish Steps in Rome, in some kind of a sanitarium, and on Escher's print Ascending & Descending ( you know, the famous drawing of monks on a square staircase that never seems to get any higher), we find ourselves in a disorientating - yet compelling - scenario which continuously shifts and changes. Central to the play is an American tourist in Rome, with whom the audience can strongly empathise. She has become lost in a heavy fog (both literal, for the stage is flooded with dry ice, and metaphorical) and is confronted by strangers who either touch her gently or harangue her about the nature of her existence. Rosalind Adler as the tourist is fiesty and bewildered by turns, and her carefully paced performance opens up the play to the audience. Meanwhile, she is probed mercilessly by the mysterious "Pops", played with great dignity (and just the right amount of menace) by Julian Lamoral-Roberts.

Intercut with this story is the drama of a young couple, Gina and Barry (Emma Fletcher and Robert Wainwright) who are obviously fall-

ing badly out of love. As they twist knives into each other, the electricity and tension between them crackles with almost tangible menace. Emma Fletcher makes Gina's impulsive lust for life utterly delicious - you practically want to run off with her yourself. Barry, on the other hand seems to be the calm and ordered half of the pair and Robert Wainwright convincingly charts his descent from serenity into chaos. Fine support in this particular scenario is provided by Edward D'arcy Hatton as Marco, who may or may not be having an affair with Gina.

But the question that nags at us is - what is the connection between these two scenarios? What binds together the distressed tourist and the warring couple? While Act one sets up many questions, Act Two ostensibly appears to provide answers. However, the answers are not the ones you expected and things that appeared irrefutable truths soon become mere perception.

This fine balancing act is held impeccably together by director Kirsty Bennett and indeed, what is so satisfying about this fiercely intelligent play is that it acknowledges there is no such thing as "truth". The tension cranks up higher and higher as characters you thought were sympathetic turn out to be horribly self-serving and characters you thought were in control turn out to be hurtling towards their doom. Nothing is certain but everything is totally believable.

As one character in the play so eloquently puts is, "you can't work with the human mind without getting your hands dirty." Stephen Hunt has got his hands satisfyingly dirty with this play. Dig in - and enjoy.

      Ewen Moore Hearsay Magazine