Despite a tendency toward bigger and more spectacular theatre productions on our limited local stages, there is always a place for `chamber' theatre in Bermuda. The absolutely essential requirements to guarantee its success are good scripts delivered by competent actors, backed by strong direction.

These elements were abounding in last week's production of `The Slippered Pantaloon' and the result was an evening of spellbinding theatre.

The National Gallery is not, let's face it, an ideal place in which to stage plays: the sight-lines are limited and at times, disastrous. The acoustics are also somewhat doubtful, although again, this depends on where you sit.

All of this paled into insignificance, however, as the evening's entertainment, staged in aid of the Bermuda National Gallery, got underway.

It is easy to see why Donel Productions had been asked to repeat their huge success of last year, and why there is already clamouring for yet another showing from the many who were unable to get tickets this second time around.

`The Slippered Pantaloon' deals, as the title suggests, with aspects of old age; it is, for the most part, a wryly humorous look at the ageing process, tempered with moments of tenderness and trepidation.

Nigel Kermode and Mary Strong Winchell opened the programme with an eclectic selection of poetry that had the audience laughing out loud one moment, and almost sighing with ruefulness the next.

Lewis Carroll's `You are old, Father William' and the beautiful cadence of Dylan Thomas's `Fern Hill' were brought newly alive in the sheer professionalism of Kermode's delivery, a professionalism lightly worn as he pottered his way through the delightful ruminations of Ogden Nash on a coming to middle-age terms with the wearing of glasses and the flippant cheerfulness of Lennon and McCartney's `When I'm 64'.

Mary Winchell provided the perfect foil in her mischievous `Warning' of the outrages she was looking forward to committing, safe in the eccentricity of old age, and the gentle delivery of Betjeman's `Death in Leamington Spa.' She revealed an unexpected gift for comedy, Northern England style, in her poem about the reading of the family will, written by the populist English poet, Pam Ayres.

This section ended, suitably enough, with Kermode at his Shakespearean best in the Ages of Man speech from `As You Like It,' culminating in the "slippered pantaloon'' of the title.

Gavin Wilson is another of Bermuda's actors whose talent far surpasses that of the amateur, and his performance here was a real tour de force .

Looking (thanks to an expert clay re-modelling of his nose by Diana Tetlow) and sounding uncannily like the great Mark Twain himself, Wilson shuffled painfully onstage and, clutching his linen lapels, launched into the literary maestro's dryly humorous reflections on his life and the irreverent manner in which he had lived it.

His comments on the sins of smoking took on a topical interest as he declared, "I have nothing against abstinence -- I've made it a rule never to smoke in bed.'' There was a mischievous vignette, too, on how to see off "the local interviewer'' -- apparently one of the banes of his long life. This marvellous piece of theatre ended with Twain's wisely tolerant observation, that "No one can reach old age by another man's road. If you can't make 75 by a comfortable road -- don't go!'' After this inimitably American humour, it was off across the ocean for a spot of the English variety.

David Conville's play, `Obituaries' was originally written for BBC radio, always a safe bet for any theatre group looking for a play that depends on the strength of its writing rather than visual effect.

The humour that emanates from an old folks' home is, hardly surprisingly, of the `gallows' type. Clad in dressing gowns, Bartholomew White and Timothy Apcar relieve the boredom of their final years through the playing of "the game.'' This consists of reading out the obituaries in The Times, to see who can score the biggest number of `peacefully' or `suddenly' categories -- with fretful squabbling over those, such as illnesses `bravely borne,' that upset the order of things.

This game takes on a deadlier edge when it is used to decide which of the two gets to meet `HRH,' a member of the Royal family who is set to visit the Beckenham home.

The monotony of the day is also punctured with frequent readings of their own projected obituaries, thus providing the most outrageous comedy of the play.

The image of both of these protagonists, positively prickling with pride as the grandiose achievements of their illustrious lives are proclaimed, is one that will long be treasured.

Here, Mr. White (Kermode) be came Sir Bartholomew, who had declined an invitation to become the Lord Mayor of London, begetter of Concorde and rescuer ("very hush-hush'') of the Dutch Royal family in the war, and former husband of Tallulah Bankhead.

Apcar (Wilson), who became `Ginger' in his obituary, stood stiffly to attention, eyes glazed towards infinity and jaw resolute, as a hastily inserted tape of Rule Britannia formed a fitting background to the unfolding of his heroic life in the British Raj.

The truth, of course, was quite different. But their extrovert imaginations made the loneliness of their twilight years bearable, and in this sense, this little gem of a play has its own profundity.

The performances of Wilson and Kermode in these admittedly `plum' roles were, quite simply, brilliant.

Mary Winchell rounded out the cast, again providing a calming foil as the nurse.

The genius behind this production is none other than Elsbeth Gibson, who with her late husband Don (to whom the show was dedicated) altered Bermuda's theatrical standards for ever. Her influence and the kind of attention to detail that separates the amateur from the professional, was everywhere.

PATRICIA CALNAN AGEING (DIS)GRACEFULLY -- Gavin Wilson (left) and Nigel Kermode star in `The Slippered Pantaloon,' staged by Donel Productions at the Bermuda National Gallery.