Is the theatre a safe place where consenting adults can watch representations of every variation of sex and violence and go home with a warm, civilised feeling?
That’s the way Chris, the enthusiastic theatregoer in Tim Crouch’s unsettling play, sees it. But the play seems to question whether art can seal itself off from the real world.
Chris, Crouch, playing a fictional version of himself, and two actors who played father and daughter in an (again fictional) earlier Crouch play about sexual abuse share a halting narrative, leading the audience with ominous gentleness into increasingly dark areas as we hear how the company researched the earlier play by watching videos of terrorists beheading their hostages.
It also emerges that at the end of that play’s run simulated violence turned real in a way which should surely have shattered Chris’s illusions. And this play ends with a shocking confession which leaves the stunned audience to pick up the pieces as best it can.
Running time: One hour, 15 minutes. Until Saturday.