But he denies that in this case, the intellectual approach obscured his understanding of the emotional truth of the play. "The two aren't in opposition, but something like that just reminds you not to be too arrogant."It's tempting to see the actor's gradual understanding of The Tempest's "love, redemption and grace" as an indication of a new and happier dawning in the person of Simon Russell Beale. It's a vexed question whether an actor experiences the emotional journey of the character, or merely provides a conduit for emotion he or she doesn't necessarily understand. "A few years ago I would have safely said that we're all just conduits, but recently I've become confused.

Doing Konstantin in The Seagull, I had to ask myself why I felt so depressed afterwards. There was none of the feeling of release that you get with plays like Lear or Richard III." Russell Beale's Konstantin left not a dry eye in the house when the portly, approval- seeking young writer seemed to mature and dignify before our eyes in the long, terrible moment before his suicide, when he stood staring at his writings in frank acceptance of their mediocrity. It is a moment which has terrible resonances for any artist.But if a part can take an actor to previously undiscovered emotional territories, can a great part also teach a greater emotional articulacy? "No," says Russell Beale after a longish pause, and gives an embarrassed little giggle. "Funnily enough, it's in the inarticulate moments that you discover something about yourself.

But they don't make it any easier to communicate that understanding."Perhaps this is no bad thing. Various commentators have said that it is precisely Russell Beale's well of unexpressed emotion that gives his acting power. It is also the moments of inarticulate emotion that have become this actor's trademark, beloved of the critics: Ariel's spit, Konstantin's pause, Richard III's furious, silent hesitation when his young nephew, York, asks for a piggy-back.And true to form, uncomfortable with the self-revealing turn of the conversation, Russell Beale changes the subject, saying, "I didn't really do serious parts until a few years ago I'm gagging for a comedy now. Mosca is not the most pleasant man you've ever met but he's not one of these monsters or depressives."Rather like the one between Prospero and Ariel, the relationship between Volpone and Mosca depends on close teamwork, and Russell Beale has no objection to playing second-lead to Michael Gambon, whom he greatly admires "Mosca is second fiddle because he's not a life-giver. Volpone, for all his terrible greed, just wants to eat life - he loves food and wine, he craves sex. Mosca's mind is fast and intellectually capable, but limited by cynicism He always sees the worst in people.

He doesn't just want to gull people, he wants to destroy them."As he speaks, Russell Beale's features contort into a grimace of envy and spite - those demons seem to be surfacing again "Oh no," he laughs it off. "I'm all for the dark sides of classic comedies, but Volpone should be fairly light. It's just when Mosca's by himself that - I hope - you see the Devil come out."! 'Volpone': Olivier, SE1 (0171 928 2252), now previewing, opens Thurs.. THE AUTHORITIES refused to issue any scorecard, for fear of prompting an unseemly race or sweepstake; after all, San Francisco takes pride in its sophistication. But word slipped out none the less: Golden Gate Bridge was about to rack up its 1,000th official suicide And no one could stop people counting.

The published tally had stood at 997 when the announcements stopped at the beginning of June. There were two more suicides that month; a third just over a fortnight ago. No one knows if 25-year-old Eric Atkinson realised the macabre contribution he was making to San Francisco's history. There's no suggestion that, before 1937 - when the Bridge was opened - San Franciscans trudged steadfastly into the cold currents of the Bay to destroy themselves. Not that suicide was unknown in the city; promising so much, the San Francisco of Gold Rush days had always had a corner on drastic disappointment But the steepness of the city was opportunity enough. Any dismayed person could see the effectiveness of just going out of the window.