Entering an intimately designed venue with dim lights and blaring tunes played by a DJ with a large ‘F*** the patriarchy’ sticker plastered to his laptop, you’d be forgiven for thinking Google maps had taken you to one of Soho’s many clubs, not its theatre.
In contrast to usual pre-theatre murmurings about nightmarishly delayed trains and subpar weather, from the off, we’re drawn into the sweaty, noisy atmosphere of a club, hyped to the point of ‘hands in the air’. All of which makes the opening of the play itself something of a rude, lights-up, end-of-the-night moment, as we’re suddenly thrust into the midst of a relationship on the verge of explosion. It’s an unexpected and confusing change of tack.
