Last night Jane, Sara, Stuart and I went to see new play Ink at the Almeida Theatre in London's glitzy Islington.
Written by James Graham, directed from Rupert Goold, and starring Bertie Carvel as Rupert Murdoch we had high hopes for this production. And we weren't disappointed. It was fab.
Synopsis: Fleet Street. 1969. The Sun rises. It's a business. And it's revenge.
James Graham’s play starts with the birth of arguably the UK's most influential newspaper – The Sun - when a young and rebellious Rupert Murdoch asked the impossible and launched its first editor’s quest, against all odds, to "give the people what they want."
Shamelessly never asking 'why?", punching up (never down), pages and pages of telly, celebrity gossip, loads of free stuff, sport stories (not just sports results) and sex (lots of sex). It was a winning mix.
The play is actually an impressively unpreachy look at The Sun, its launch and the red tops’ circulation war that followed. The killer blow in the circulation war was the inclusion of topless women which for 43 years (dis)graced "Page 3".
The acting is top-notch from the "let's put on show" beginning that almost breaks into a musical to the crisis of confidence as The Sun itself becomes the story. You might not like Murdoch but you have to admire his tenacity.
James Graham has written a fantastic sell-out play in Ink that is bound to transfer to the West End.