Follow Me

Ruth Ellis is waiting to be hanged. Albert Pierrepoint is preparing to hang her. A crowd of protesters outside are chanting. The other roles - a group of men assisting with the execution, and a woman talking with Ellis in her cell - are assigned to the audience.

What makes Follow Me such a riveting experience is the way in which the text introduces two fascinating characters while simultaneously posing so many crucial questions about humanity, celebrity and justice.

This is a period piece about a historically significant event - Ellis was the last woman to be hanged in Britain - but its contemporary resonance is striking. It's difficult to resist trying to devise a new defence case for Ellis, taking into account provocation or temporary insanity, while Pierrepoint's angry condemnation of US executions includes casually gruesome details that one fears may still be applicable 50 years on.

Appropriately, the play contains a liberal sprinkling of gallows humour: Albert describes how his father 'showed him the ropes' of his occupation, while bad-taste jokes pepper Ellis's conversation as she becomes increasingly fraught.

The two performances - by Beth Fitzgerald as Ellis and Ross Gurney-Randall as Pierrepoint - are simply terrific. One would expect a chill down the spine during the closing moments of a drama about a hanging, but when the condemned woman finally acknowledges her fate the ripples of horror feel like a brief haunting.