sides, the steps amidst the audience -- popping up like fragments of memory that cannot be ignored either by us or by the older versions of the characters. And it is these, whose lived-in experiences and long-held emotions are undeniably drawn in beautifully rounded performances, who really make A Life as captivating as it is. Hugh Ross relishes the scathingly sharp humour of Drumm -- his Canadian grandchildren are described as looking like "pygmy lumberjacks" -- and the fiercely burning intelligence which has corroded into a self-assured arrogance, but layers in a crucial tinge of regret of how life has unfolded and how unable to change he feels. An utterly enthralling portrayal of an engagingly complex character. Ross is superbly complemented too by the two women in his life: Judith Coke's sweetly daffy wife Dolly and Kate Binchy's Mary, the one that got away. Dolly is the ever-dutiful and deferent partner but Coke subtly suggests a keen astuteness about her, which may not be recognised by her husband, but is one which speaks volumes about the lengths to which some women go to keep their marriages stable, yet maintain their own lives. And in a similar way, Binchy beautifully plays the deep understanding of men that Mary possesses, recognising the importance of her role in Drumm's life and possible redemption and also in that of the man she chose over him, Neil McCaul's feckless Kearns. Wrapped in an unassuming persona, it is a remarkable nuanced strength, completely free from any