DESPITE an absolutely masterful performance by Simon Callow, this show was blighted by poor conception and arrogant whimsy.

It was a strange hybrid of third-person narration of Dickens' life, interspersed with first-person quotes from the great man's journals and books. Enormously ambitious, it seemed to attempt to distil the monstrous literary and social phenomenon that was Charles Dickens into a two-hour monologue without so much as a sound effect to assist.

As a showcase for Callow's redoubtable acting talent, it was ideal: his portrayal of everything from Fagin's leer and lisp to the horror of Bill and Nancy Sykes' murder scene was exemplary.

The best part of the show was his evocation of the author's reading tours, when he embarked on country-wide journeys to read aloud to his public. Revelling in the huge challenge of the part, Callow managed to induce the spellbinding effect and brilliant characterisation the script was attributing to his subject.

Themes that formed an immense part of Dickens' life and literature were skimmed over, and there were no biographical revelations beyond the odd juicy anecdote to flesh out what is widely known about the tortured genius. In an attempt to compensate, the script constantly drew parallels between the great man's life and his characters.

These varied from the standard, such as the comparisons of the privations the youthful Dickens endured with the sufferings of David Copperfield, to much more dubious and irritatingly speculative offerings. Had the tone been a little less authoritative, these suggestions would have been easier to stomach, but delivered as facts they impeded Callow's marvellous dramatisations of Dickens' equally marvellous characters.

Jon di Paolo