Conor Lovett has a voice like a lullaby: soft, liltingly taking you along, and sugaring the bitter truth. The End is a deeply saddening story of a man’s acceptance of his decline and his demise, and yet he manages to smile, to find humour in his predicament, to find compassion for those who reject him or do him wrong. There is an unerringly chipper side to this man’s approach to his awful plight, his acceptance of filth, deprivation and social exclusion. He seems not only to accept them but almost cherish to them. Lovett’s performance is mesmerically brilliant.
Pavilion Theatre, 6 October