Theatre can transport you. Sometimes to ancient Rome. Sometimes to 19th century Paris. Sometimes to… an industrial strength nightmare.
Cleansed at @almeida_theatre begins almost deceptively. Two gay men in what appears to be some kind of institution declare their love for each other. It’s tender, romantic and genuinely moving. Sarah Kane said the play is about love. Stuart and I settled in expecting an intense but emotional evening.
Then the wheels came off. Spectacularly.
Enter Tinker, a sadistic “doctor” who spends the next 95 minutes making everyone else’s life unimaginably horrific.
One man has his tongue cut out and forced back into his mouth, both hands amputated, both feet amputated, is repeatedly sexually assaulted with a pole, and later castrated. His boyfriend gets off comparatively lightly by having his throat slit.
Elsewhere there are murders, suicides, savage beatings, rape, forced feeding, drugging, prolonged nudity, humiliation, torture and a character undergoing forced gender reassignment. By this point, Greek tragedy and Shakespeare’s bloodiest moments are quietly wondering if things have perhaps gone a bit too far.
The play caused outrage when it premiered at the Royal Court in 1998. Actor Stuart McQuarrie, who originated Tinker, recalled audiences regularly booing, with one audience member shouting, “What’s it all about?” at the curtain call. Nearly three decades later, it still has the power to provoke exactly that reaction.
The warning signs were literally there. The Almeida’s trigger notice lists prolonged nudity, torture, mutilation, murder, sex, incest, sexual violence, forced eating, suicide, drug abuse, gender reassignment surgery, homophobic and misogynistic language, blood, flashing lights, loud bangs and gunshots. In hindsight, perhaps we should have taken the hint.
Did we enjoy it? No.
Was that Sarah Kane’s intention? Quite possibly.
Is it brilliantly staged and fearlessly performed? Absolutely.
Will I ever forget it? Not a chance.
⭐️
@almeida_theatre #Cleansed #SarahKane #AlmeidaTheatre
