The characters are all over 70 and so much life has happened to them but something apocalyptic is happening too (a recurring and disturbingly prescient theme in the playwright's work, not least
The Skriker). And in the steady flow of James Macdonald's assured production, contrasting timeframes are elided beautifully - as stories of survival are divided by Bassett's matter-of-fact accounts about the state of the world today - aided by Buether's addition of a pitch black antechamber in front, framed by ingeniously flickering and effective electric coils, Peter Mumford's lighting transformatively complete.
A frequent collaborator with Churchill, Macdonald's investigation of the text is supreme, so that each incomplete, overlapping sentence is weighted with its full meaning. And breaking up the conversation are monologues of archetypal, Churchillian, linguistic complexity which somehow remain surprising - Findlay's growing panic, Markham's tremulous fear, Watson's masterly swoop into seriousness, Bassett's troubling wordplay, each solo brings with it the jolt of imagination and intelligence. And crucially, in the hands of such fine actors able to convey the intent of a playwright with still so much to say, a playful freshness that keeps Escaped Alone dancing lightly on its feet