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Ferguson, slouching and perma-hungover in a racoon coat and white hat, looks little like Capote, who resembled a white-blond, moon-faced, devil child. But he captures his insinuating, conspiratorial prattle and his vaunting self-belief. The actor, who has been making a second home on the London stage latterly, in Stephen Sondheim’s Here We Are and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Jesus Christ Superstar, almost made me forget how much I dislike soliloquies where a famous character reels off all the touchpoints of his or her life.

