From almost the very beginning of David Mamet's Edmond you are whipped along with such a frenzy that you can hardly catch your own breath. In a way it makes one sympathise with the eponymous Edmond as he finds himself in a downward spiral that he cannot resist. On the surface it is pretty hard to believe that this once rational husband could transform from being a reasonably civilised, middle-class citizen into a rapist and murderer in the space of a few hours. But the combination of Mamet's play, Edward Hall's direction and above all Ken Branagh's mesmerising performance, make it seem scarily possible. 
      Edmond, having been told by a fortune-teller that he is not where he belongs, suddenly snaps and walks out on his life (and wife) in search of fulfilment. What he finds on the streets of New York destroys his faith and principles to the point that he becomes more animal than man. Everyone tells him they know what he wants but he soon discovers that nothing is as straightforward as it seems. Looking for sex, he is first outraged at the literal price he has to pay, but as his adventures lead him deeper and deeper into the underworld where he is insulted, conned and mugged, and eventually driven to murder, he ends up paying the ultimate price: his freedom. 
      There are many British actors who can do a reasonably good American accent but Branagh's is exceptional. It is not only the accent nor even the rhythms but his whole being which is American. There have been arguments that this is an intimate piece, that it would work better in a smaller theatre; the Olivier stage has been reduced in size for this production, but is still a huge space. But Branagh manages to inhabit it with aplomb. 
      As the revolving set takes us with him through this nightmarish few hours, the streets come alive with all manner of creatures. The stream of characters who pass by in the night are players in fascinating vignettes, some barely two minutes long but nevertheless managing to leave an impression: the card-sharp (Adam Levy), the waitress (Nicola Walker) and the cellmate (Nonso Anozie) in particular. There are hair-raising moments and glimpses of pure evil, but in the final moments there is some hope of redemption. No wonder Branagh was tempted back to the stage after an 11-year absence. This is an amazing tour de force.
Francine Brody