Theatre

This hallucinogenic ride through the dark night of the soul is extraordinary. Shatteringly original, infuriating, rebelliously playful, and as intelligently experimental as any drama you’ll see, it takes the audience member on a journey where it’s impossible to feel in control. Since it premiered at the Edinburgh International Festival in 2004 critics have grappled to pin down its influences: ‘Alice in Wonderland’, ‘The Wizard of Oz’, David Lynch, ‘Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory’, and even ‘Star Wars’ have been cited. The connecting strand, of course, for all these is a fascination with the joys and fears of disorientation –  a theme Anthony Neilson deploys very cleverly to examine the allure and desperation of mental illness.

As the play opens, Christine Entwistle’s engagingly childlike Lisa is sitting onstage plucking petulantly at one string on a guitar. Tightening the string till it breaks, it’s obvious that something else has snapped, as Barnaby Power’s Sigmund Freud-like watch-mender enters to inform her that she has somehow managed to lose an hour of her life. Her flat becomes a lift, and the curtain flies up to reveal a carpet-covered world inhabited by such characters as the Insecurity Guards, Alan Francis’ comically imposing Oath-taker, and a rapist scapegoat. The play’s dynamic swings constantly between joy and terror, as songs and child-like hilarity are overshadowed by the threat of the Black Dog King.

Neilson himself directs with considerable flair. It’s arguable that his excellent production allows him to get away with some of the weaknesses of the script –  the jokes, though very good, are repeatedly overplayed. In the brilliantly contrasting second half, where we find ourselves in the amplified monochrome monotony of a psychiatric hospital, he makes us feel how Lisa might long for an escape from sanity. Yet again, the National Theatre of Scotland brings a fresh blast of air to the London stage.