The very English elements of the play will be less relevant for Sydneysiders, but A Butcher Of Distinction is still a hell of a ride.

Both performers move seamlessly back and forth between dialogue and narration with no hiccups.

The only thing that doesn’t quite work is the young love storyline; it’s more the fault of play than the performances or direction but it’s difficult to resist the desire to throttle Henry as he continuously and earnestly pines over Edna.

Such a performance and discussion surely deserve longer running time.

A cheeky look behind the scenes at the cogs of Belvoir does little to answer these questions.

It’s a strangely stiff effect, but it works in favour of the thrill.

Ultimately the two most rousing events of the histories, Hal’s reformation and Henry’s death, are lost amongst the comedy, the momentous occurring simply as moments between laughs, lacking impact.

He is – and this can’t be said with nearly the conviction Haft achieves – a genuine ‘cat’.

Ultimately there is the removal of victimisation, and with this revelation we must reconsider what has played out for the last 80 minutes not as tragedy, but as triumph.

There is no car, just a couple of chairs and a steering wheel but when the acting is this good, the audience doesn’t need to see a car to believe it’s there.

At the end The Pillowman seems designed by the bleak parables that pepper it. In place of a moral or a reader’s revolution though is the constant reminder that humanity is sick.

Nothing is avoided so undoubtedly the play is for audiences that like to be confronted.

For those not easily offended, it will surprise and delight. Get tickets before they’re all gone.

It is Yui Kawaguchi who really steals hearts. She never loses her grace, or strength, as she is pushed about and challenged by the boys.

The effort of all seven actors is inspiring. The seven performers, gracefully discuss the their lives.

Sure, the sound and the atmosphere is not the same as with the big kids, but that’s totally the point.

De Novo is a delight, at once both light-hearted and thrilling and a credit to everyone involved.

Breen, who’s now based in Melbourne but has kicked around The Comedy Store for a while, was a great piece of icing on the cake; tight as, as always.

The production may be uneven, but when Stone and his team get everything right, they realise the very best of Williams.

Though Shaw’s play is 120 years old, there’s still plenty of relevance in this modern world and director Sarah Giles has done a great job of balancing its traditional setting with its modern ideas.