He seems a decent sort, this man Meursault, present at his mother’s funeral but not overwhelmed with grief. They had had an understanding and neither needed nor expected anything more of each other than they had. She had been at a happy point in her life, content in the place she lived and with a new male friend.

But by his inability to follow normal codes and modes of behaviour, Meursault becomes a victim of a society that cannot accept his philosophy or his way of living – his lack of belief in God, his seemingly heartless response to his mother’s death, and the naivety which leads him to kill a man and show such little remorse.

With echoes of Kafka’s The Trial, Camus’ L’Étranger presents an outsider who gradually comes to terms with his situation and his difference from others. He finds a release prior to his execution in a confrontation with the prison priest and his final wish for the crowd at his beheading to be full of hate.

This adaptation, by Morten Kirkskov, highlights the French/Algerian context. The life of the Arab comes cheap; the viciousness of Raymond, the ‘real’ villain, towards his Arabic mistress is seemingly accepted behaviour.

The story is told in a powerful and tightly controlled performance by Brazilian actor/director Guilherme Leme. The stage design is simple and striking in black and white. A central chair, a suit of clothes, beams of light, the sound of the Muezzin. Good use is made of these few forces, evoking the heat of the beach and the containment of a cell. Concentration does not wander and audience focus is complete throughout; we hang on the words needing to know more, convinced and somewhat spellbound.

Meursault remains a morally ambiguous and troubling figure, out of time, hard to like but with a fierce sense of righteousness. We are left with room to think as his final cigarette burns in the darkness.