He's a man with a lot of bottle... in more ways than one

FRANK Galvin lurches through the haze of life, his future stretching no further than the bottom of that last whiskey bottle.

Like the American gunslingers of old, he can’t resist that one big confrontation which might redeem all those years spent both at the bar and in the bar room.

He’s the Doc Holliday of the Boston legal scene… down but not out, broke but not busted.

This world stage premiere of Barry Reed’s gripping narrative in which an alcoholic lawyer takes on the combined forces of the medical and church establishments to prove a case of clinical malpractice is an absolute tour de force in the finest tradition of court room dramas.

Clive Mantle as the drink-ravaged Galvin strides the stage like some bedraggled, crumpled suited colossus as he fearlessly challenges corrupt judge Eldredge Sweeney (Richard Walsh).

Galvin pushes his luck to the furthest extremities of legal etiquette in a relentless quest for the truth. Meanwhile, his adversaries try to snare him in all kinds of ways, a well-laid honey trap potentially being the most professionally lethal.

Galvin is assailed from all sides. His opponents – notably his creepy courtroom adversary J. Edward Concannon, played with increasing acidity by Peter Harding – display all the viciousness of vested interest at bay, especially after their defences have first started to crumble under attack from laconic medical expert Lionel Thompson (Okon Jones).

The stink of corruption hangs everywhere, overpowering even the whiskey fumes in Galvin’s favourite down-town drinking joint.

Meanwhile, Jack Shepherd assumes a remarkably authentic Brooklyn accent as Galvin’s sidekick Moe Katz, providing a softer verbal counterpoint to his friend’s ranting but heart-felt protestations.

The Verdict is a long play. Nevertheless, it’s all the better for it, giving Galvin’s complex yet eloquent moralising a free rein as he gradually demolishes institutional wrong-doing. Thoroughly recommended.

John Phillpott