It is absurdly ambitious of Robert Welch to believe he can distil the "very essence of Protestantism on a global and historical scale" in one hour, with one actor, in his first stage play.
Protestants, although performed with some brio by Paul Hickey, is infuriatingly bitty, a series of snapshots that never add up to much, let alone a coherent whole.
It is an angry piece - even though it purports to eschew sectarianism - despite the fact Protestants were doing pretty well on a "global and historical scale" the last time I looked. In execution the show is tricksy, as if designed to showcase Hickey's versatility and Welch's ability to turn a phrase.
On a set resembling a miniature wooden amphitheatre stand a series of props. The glowering Hickey picks up a bisected circular saw-blade, perches it on his shoulders and hey presto, he's Elizabeth I, railing against an ignominious treaty with Ireland.
Other props turn him into an Alabama snake-handler, Martin Luther, an Irish soldier in Cromwell's army, a young Ulster boy preparing for his first July parade and a Glaswegian football hooligan.
Hickey's performance is energetic and aggressive, and the way he switches accents would make any casting director applaud. But quite what these mismatched characters have to say about Protestantism as a whole is anyone's guess.
There are faux-poetic linking passages - Welch is a poet, novelist and academic - but the author's final thesis seems to be that Protestants are defined by the fact that they protest. Well, I hardly think Luther's theological agonies compare with a Rangers fan's desire to kick Celtic heads in.
Director Rachel O'Riordan keeps things moving, and Hickey is impressive in a rather chilling way, but this play has no shape or spine. Among his many other talents, Robert Welch is a book editor: you'd think he'd realise that centuries of history and an entire culture can't be crammed into an hour.
Until 3 July. Information: 020 7478 0100.
Protestants
