This is a really exciting book, which tells for the first time the almost unbelievable story of the National Theatre’s production of Fernando Arrabal’s The Architect and the Emperor of Assyria, which was staged at the Old Vic in 1971.
Across the eight days and nights between last Sunday and tonight, I’ll have seen 11 shows, and (excepting tonight which I’ve not seen yet and one of which was a critics’ preview and I’m therefore not in a position to comment publicly on yet), I’ve loved eight out of the nine. That’s an incredible strike record for one week, and one of those runs of great shows that you only dream of. It helps, of course, that I was playing catch up on six of them, so I was in (comparatively) safer hands than going blind to yet-to-be reviewed shows. But there’s also a fear that a show won’t live up to the good reviews youv’e already read and absorbed.