Each of these women is beautifully realised: the brash youngster whose justification is that she has "paid" and is therefore entitled; the sad older woman so unloved at home that she falls for drinks laced with sweet talk and convinces herself that a monetary transaction is romance; the local who hates the trade but who also colludes with it. Good acting; short, sharp and pungent theatre. A complicating element is thrown in—a letter, written by the culprit (or “client”, according to the paperwork), which might have an impact on Three’s decision. Although the play’s title may or may not be said to constitute a spoiler.

Arendt, Hannah (reissued 2006) Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (London: Penguin). At less than an hour, Trade is brief, but it follows its own complete arc and is not without complexity. The shifting relationships of the three women are a mirror of the shifting relationship that the west has with the developing world, and Trade is as much about women's relationships with each other and each woman's relationship with herself as it about the transactions between man and woman, rich and poor, here and there, first and third world. And it is a procedure. For all the scripted sympathy and underlying safety nets, all the 'can we get you anythings' and the cups of tea in cheap Ikea mugs, this is callous and routine. One and Two are just doing their jobs. Three is ending a life. It takes five minutes for anyone to ask how she's been. When they do, the humanity of the question comes as a jolt.In 2016, she won an ARIA (Audio and Radio Industry Award) from the Radio Academy for her radio play Lament. Produced by BBC Radio Drama London and broadcast on BBC Radio 4, Lament won the Gold Best Audio Dramatisation prize. [6] Film career [ edit ] Mutua, Makau wa (2001) ‘Savages, Victims, and Saviors: The Metaphor of Human Rights’, Harvard International Law Journal 42(1): 201–245. But the main set-piece of the evening is when Three has to choose the method of execution for the guilty man. As One describes, once again in bureaucratic language, the options of lethal injection, gas, firing squad, beheading and finally hanging, one of the neon strips in Jon Bausor’s atmospheric design begins to fizz. As you’d expect, the details of the mechanics of capital punishment are horrendous and appalling. Derbyshire, Harry and Loveday Hodson (2008) ‘Performing Injustice: Human Rights and Verbatim Theatre’, Law and Humanities 2: 191–211.

hang offers a form of imaginative counter-history, as well as implicitly putting the audience (in the Royal Court Theatre where it premiered, overwhelmingly a white demographic) in the position of moral arbitration between right and wrong deeds. Director Kolbrún Björt Sigfúsdóttir is not afraid to home in on the play’s disconcerting nature. There are often moments of uneasy silence, particularly as Williams makes her decision official by filling out scores of paperwork. Amplifying this unsettling atmosphere is Alisa Kalyanova’s set design paired with Benny Goodman’s lighting. Clinical in nature, the strobe lights, white floors, and plastic chairs are all cold and unwelcoming. As Williams becomes more agitated, the glitching lights and Tom Oakes ’ subtle but destabilising soundscape intensify the situation, and it seems to only be a matter of time before Williams implodes. Two and Three (the officials, played by Claire Rushbrook and Shane Zaza) speak in that fake-sympathetic patter used by many counsellors. Set Construction and Get-In : Keith Syrett, John McSpadyen, Alex Burton, Alexander Kampmann and members of the cast and crewI’m not entirely sure what One and Two are – family liaison officers, perhaps, given how much they know about Three and her circumstances. More than a bit too much, as it turns out, and much to Three’s chagrin. Tweedleone and Tweedletwo, as I started calling them in my mind, are like those mortgage ‘advisers’ who can’t, officially, actually dispense anything that could be reasonably construed as advice. The play asks if the criminal justice system can truly be impartial, or even if it should be. When One and Two point out that some of Three’s questions are answered in some ‘literature’ (that is, an information pamphlet), Three replies that the literature would have been written by someone. That someone would have an opinion, as is their right. The logical conclusion is that true impartiality is an impossible dream. Programmes – Discovery – Second Coming". Archived from the original on 5 June 2015 . Retrieved 5 June 2015. About a third of hang’s 70 minutes is given over to a minute dissection of bureaucratic inadequacy in the face of grief and anger. The jargon of transparency and auto-empathy is neatly caught – but there is not much new there. Nor is there much urgency in the stylised dialogue, with floating half-sentences masquerading as interrupted thought. Marianne Jean-Baptiste (Three), Claire Rushbrook (One) and Shane Zaza (Two) in hang. Photograph: Tristram Kenton A highly talented cast, a “what would I do?” theme and some trenchant writing combine to provide seventy minutes of gripping (if traumatic) drama.

I think the best playwrights will allow the audience or the reader to inject the anger, and then the construction of words and sentences will inflict tje violence. There are some truly Shakespearean-level alitterations in this text.The mesmerising Marianne Jean-Baptiste is full of conviction, and almost fully convincing in this agonised, arms-folded role: wary, combative, twitchy but brittle too, wounded, unmistakably bereft" The play's counterpoint is a letter, written by inmate to victim, and it's almost too human to bear. Three could disregard it – that's entirely her choice – but its pull is too strong. When she asks for guidance, One and Two can't provide any: "procedural protocols" and all that mean they can't influence her decisions. The system finally fails the victim. It leaves her to live with the consequences of her choice, of her actions. One and Two move on to the next case. This is not to deny the compelling force of Marianne Jean-Baptiste’s performance. She is full of angry resentment and balefully combative stares" Dominic Cavendish, Telegraph