The blurb from this show promises to explore Stockholm syndrome' and how a woman close to the cast came to engage in an ongoing relationship with an older man who raped her. Unfortunately, the critical question of how the woman moved from being quite freaked out by this man to be willing to undress in front of him goes unexplored, which leaves the show feeling extremely exploitative during the graphic rape scene. This is a shame as there are moments of genuine intensity during this play and the manner in which relationships play out after the rape is complex and feels interesting. I also found the manner in which the director spoke to the lead female in the question and answer session afterwards to be domineering bordering on abusive. I am not sure if they were trying to incorporate the Q&A as part of the show, but it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
A Question of Consent
Until Sun Feb 2
Photographer: Paul Cockcroft
Time Out rating:
Time Out says
Posted: Mon Jan 13 2014
Oh dear. Well-meaning as it is, this improvised exploration of a serial rape victim’s real-life trauma is totally wrong-headed. Young ensemble Craft and artistic director Rocky Rodriguez Jr simply haven’t got the tools or the maturity to handle material of this nature.
An anonymous friend of the company has granted Rodriguez and his four actors permission to dramatise her story, using what the director describes as ‘a very specific practice that I have been developing’ rooted in ‘physical exhaustion and identity deconstruction techniques’.
In practice, that means watching half an hour of sweat-soaked stick fighting, during which, inexcusably, one audience member was fortunate that only his knuckles were rapped, before the company negotiate their way through a series of pre-determined scenes. Rodriguez calls the show from the sidelines of the bare stage, announcing blackouts and pausing the action to deliver notes. There’s just the slightest hint of cult leader going on.
That said, his actors’ performances are muscular and intense, even if what’s gained in presence is lost in precision, both of language and dramatic thrust.
Story structure is the biggest problem. Not only is the narrative hamstrung by predictability, but Rodriguez hollows out a genuine trauma into a trashy potboiler. There’s no attempt to humanise the landlord rapist beyond a stock ‘creepy old weirdo’ and the production refuses to consider either social context or potential solutions.
Either this is an exercise in theatre as therapy, in which case it doesn’t need a public audience, or else it ends up in danger of exploiting its subject. Whichever is the case, A Question of Consent is naïve beyond all measure.
By Matt Trueman