Lie Low, Royal Court Theatre Review
Photo by Raymond DaviesWritten by Bronagh for Theatre & Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review.
Content warnings: Nudity. references to mental health, depictions and discussion of and sexual violence.
Lie Low contains loud music, strobe & flashing lighting, and haze.
Lie Low is a hard hitting, intense show exploring victim/predator roles, mental health and natural reactions to sexual assault. Tables turn and murky secrets come to light, disco songs blare out of speakers and Rice Krispies get spilt, in a show with a dark underbelly. We’re in Faye’s (Charlotte McCurry) flat, which she moved into nine months ago following a traumatic break in. Her brother Naoise (Thomas Finnegan) comes to visit, and Faye enlists him in conducting some DIY exposure treatment to help with her insomnia.
Unbeknownst to us, and to Faye, Naoise has a motive for the visit that goes beyond trying to comfort his traumatised sister. He comes for a character reference to be used in a sexual assault investigation, an allegation that could cost him his job and his marriage. We soon enter very murky waters, where boundaries are collapsing.
This show is a complex theatrical exploration like no other. The #MeToo movement is fresh in our memories, and Lie Low brings these memories back to the forefront of audiences’ mind. Consent, sexuality, and assault are all covered over 70 minutes, as well as an exploration into the gender of the victims and the stereotypes of these. Ciara Elizabeth Smyth’s writing of both from the perspective as victims and predators is a twist that I did not see coming and genuinely shocked me. The trauma seeps through both Faye and Naoise, evident for the audience to see particularly when Naoise is reduced to a quivering wreck after Faye demands to see his penis. Roles are reversed, and Faye becomes the predator, demanding and not caring about consent.
McCurry and Finnegan are believable as brother and sister, the quips and conversation flowing between them effortlessly. Lie Low is both wickedly dark and hilarious, particularly McCurry’s comedic timing and one liners providing a lot of laughs throughout the audience. Boundaries blur, between ‘good and bad’, ‘male and female’, ‘consent and assault’, all brought to life by Smyth’s impeccable writing.
Ciaran Bagnall’s lighting and Denis Clohessy’s sound design compliment Jerwood Upstairs perfectly, making the space feel both claustrophobic and vast in equal measures. The use of lighting was a particular favourite, with the dimming and brightening of lights never harsh but always effective. We can perhaps perceive a lot of Lie Low as being set in Faye’s mind, from the bizarrely random dance numbers to the apparent meetings with her doctor who we never see, but we do hear. Faye is able to move around her ‘mind’ freely, dancing and twirling with ‘Duckman’ making use of the space. Then we go back to her small apartment, after a lighting change, and things are a lot more complicated.
Lie Low is a difficult watch, there is no doubt about it. The topics are executed in a very interesting way, welcoming comedic elements while maintaining seriousness. The momentum never falters. Lie Low is breathtaking and needs to be seen to be believed.
At Royal Court Theatre until 8th June 2024.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
