The compass of Lenny Henry's voice is marked with two Wests - oriented somewhere between the resonant drag of the West Midlands and the sudden energised trill of the West Indies.

After 30 years in the business, that voice remains a plastic and malleable instrument; instantly recognisable, forever changing.

With his new show, So Much Things to Say, Henry tentatively explores a character-based performance, with voices that want to go deeper.

Old habits die hard, though. "I know what you're thinking," begins Henry. "He's a lot taller than we expected . . . Well, you're a lot whiter than I expected." Henry works the audience tirelessly. Within the first minute he knows the entire front row by name, address, physicality and fashion sense.

Right down to his shocking suit, he honours every expectation, soothing us into the most undemanding routines: Aren't men and women different? Aren't mobile phones annoying? Isn't contemporary music bland? But, ever so gradually, he sneaks in his new characters: an ageing shopkeeper who's nobody's fool; a young British soldier patrolling Iraq; a deceptively prim lady, tired of her husband; a former lothario in a nursing home.

Henry's skills as a comedian have never quite matched those as a mimic, so while his Robert DeNiro impersonations are consistently hilarious, there's something too gentle about his Basra soldier saying, "The Americans walk around like they own the place." Subtlety and stand-up aren't an effective combination.

"Thank you," is how Henry signals that a bit is over, prompting applause for a comedy without rhythm or crescendo.

Finally removing himself from the second act, Henry leaves the stage to his characters while their stories gradually coalesce. "Everybody has a right to be heard," comes his strong finish, but with such political hesitancy, what is Henry trying to say? He may speak up, but Henry never speaks out. - Peter Crawley

So Much Things to Say is part of the Bulmers International Comedy Festival.