Lie Of The Land

In this intense and tightly scripted two-hander, Torben Betts creates a stark and fractured world. An unnamed man, Neal Barry, and unnamed woman, Nia Gwynne, have recently married, against the wishes of her rich family and the hopes of his poor one. They have left their jobs in the grey city and set up home in the country.

If they call this Utopia, where the possibilities are limitless, everything about them screams otherwise. Wincing in city suits and dark glasses, each clutching a suitcase, they stand near each other, but are divided. The gulf between the two of them reflects the gulf between them and the outside world.

Under Adam Barnard's slick, poised and precise direction, they deliver Betts poetic, splintered lines with all the hypnotic force they require. Together, building the vision of this place by the sea with waves of words that flood across the stage, they are unforgiving in their intensity as they reveal the truth about the situation. The civil disorder in the city, low-flying aircraft, the rising waters, the shrinking island, the failing civilisation.

Individually, each gets right into the heart of the character. Gwynne, with all the distancing and condescension of her class, while conveying a strong sense of her vulnerability. Barry, with more bluster and bravado on the surface, reflects a greater vulnerability from the outset. But as he burns his city clothes and discovers a skull from prehistoric battles while fishing for trout, he draws in the need for ritual that can dominate our lives.

The use of the black box theatre space as set reflects the bleakness of the script. Areas are delineated with strips of white tape on the floor, added by the actors between scenes. A screen behind is used to project shaky black and white scene-setting descriptions, as if for a silent movie. Steve Mayo's sound design, although not quite as precise is it might be, ensures that the external world encroaches lethally into this one.

While the overall result will not be unfamiliar to those who saw Betts recent award-winning The Unconquered, here, his questioning of the divide between people finds even bleaker answers.