Nymphs and Shepherds Etcetera Theatre, London NW1
Pleading the cause of a paedophile is not going to win the playwright David Hines many new friends. But his 80-minute monologue, a sort of Alan Bennett-ish Talking Head-case, beautifully and deftly delivered by Andrew C. Wadsworth (an Olivier-nominated musical theatre actor of some pedigree), is horribly enthralling.
You learn something about men who prowl the city parks and prey on young girls. Men with this obsession, a recurrent lapse in a moment of ecstatic madness that Hines defines as the drumbeat of desire. Still, Wadsworth's rootless Oliver seems oblivious to the trust he betrays, the innocence he exploits, the childish beauty he defiles.
As he waits for the police to arrive in connection with a missing girl, he summarises his list of activities and tries to explain them with reference to his background. You don't, however, feel that any such bid for the sympathy vote would deter you from ripping off the man's head if he came anywhere near your own child's school playground.
This difficult area was much better tackled by Bryony Lavery in her recently acclaimed play Frozen. Here, you just want the guy put down. Naggingly, though, you also see what he's on about.
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