“You are so shallow you will evaporate” quips Barry (Leon Chambers) a washed-up TV entertainer looking to invigorate his flagging career in Joe Penhall's DumbShow. The play delves into the dark recesses of the relationship between celebrity and tabloid journalism in the 21st century.

The action takes place entirely within the four walls of a luxury hotel suite into which Barry has been unwittingly lured by two undercover tabloid journalists, Greg (Justin Stahley) and Liz (Helen McGill) posing as rich bankers.

Rob Irvine's impressive set, replete with faux modern art on the walls and a central glass floor to ceiling window gave the feeling of being in a plasticised non-descript hotel room devoid of any human touch.

Both McGill and Stahley nicely oozed the requisite amount of oleaginous sycophancy in their undercover roles of Jane and John in the opening scene as they bait the trap into which Chamber's sad-sack Barry is neatly manoeuvred. Whether by accident or design McGill, uncannily resembled a young Rebekah Brooks with her blaze of red hair, ravenously ambitious and completely devoid of any moral compass.

Stahley's Greg was not your stereotypical East End barrow-boy made good tabloid hack but came across as a middle class intern replete with man-bag, working his way up to the business pages.

To their credit, and the credit of debutante director Michael Bettell, all three members of the talented cast avoided descending into caricature, which given the three roles – two tabloid hacks and a stand-up comedian- could so easily have happened.

And so to our protagonist, Barry. Chambers imbued every one of his lines with a whining despair, and selfish rage against the fact he no longer commanded the public following that had propelled him to the status of “Mr Saturday Night”. At times he came across as a child throwing overgrown tantrums. His underplayed reaction to the offer of a glass of champagne in the opening scene spoke volumes and set out a whole backstory of recovering alcoholic without uttering a single word.

Penhall punctuates the narrative with end-of-the pier one-liners that at times felt out of place. In a touching scene between Liz and Barry an unnecessary joke about being atoned is crowbarred in. We know Barry is a comedian is it really necessary to take every opportunity to remind the audience of this.

The play - and the characters - works best when it is at its darkest and the lighthearted humour spoils what could have been a very dark piece indeed. To this end all three characters – particularly Barry - needed more menace. The cruel speech in which Barry mocks his fans could have been more unpleasant in its delivery so as to wrest back any sympathy the audience may have developed for the comic.

Instead, the second half of the play feels rushed and artificial particularly the final scene when Liz, having set about destroying Barry's career, happens to pop back up in his hotel suite for a quick chat – really?

In Penhall's own words “Dumb Show is about what happens in the absolute absence of compassion, where society is becoming a vacuum devoid of any real empathy and sympathy, where the only thing that's left is an utterly plasticized, platitudinous and prurient tabloid sentimentality.”

Michael Bettells' fluid and polished production ably brings to life Penhall's vision of the show. It is difficult to feel any real empathy for any of the characters. Which is probably what Penhall aims for all along.

Photography by Ruth Anthony