Pornography

At first, we seem to be backstage. Wires hang overhead, speakers and cables are scattered about, a TV flickers in the corner. It looks like the aftermath of something before the action even begins. Simon Stephens’ 2007 play about the July 7 bombings is a beautifully written exploration of what goes on behind the scenes in the lead up to a major tragedy, showing us how ordinary lives intersect with extraordinary events.

Stephens’ characters are either on their own or in twos, speaking to us directly or locked into their own dramas. The individuals and pairings don’t see each other for the most part but are drawn together in invisible choreographies. The geometries of their movements are just as important as their words.

What do we remember of them? A bullied schoolboy’s blazer, the way a lonely female academic swears, the pale naked body of a young man about to sleep with his highly strung sister. One woman is having a quiet breakdown.

The characters’ richly textured stories emerge gradually and layer on layer is added as the accidental correspondences between them build. Each one of them is an individual but also part of an invisible network.

This is also a play about a haunted city and the ghost in the machine is the character of one of the 7/7 bombers. He too has a story to tell, recounting how he bought peroxide for the bombs or his anxious train journey to London while the other lives go on around him.

Sean Holmes’ brilliant production makes highly effective use of the auditorium as characters enter and exit from unexpected places. The actors give a stunning ensemble performance, responsive, attuned to each others’ movements, staying in role as the focus moves elsewhere.

The text says that individual scenes can be performed in any order. In doing so, it emphasises the random echoes and unpredictable correspondences that make this such a powerful and moving piece of theatre. It says that human beings will always be connected in subtle and intangible ways, no matter what the attempts to destroy them.