This review was originally written for The Reviews Hub: https://www.thereviewshub.com/4-48-psychosis-royal-court-london/

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It has been 25 years since the Royal Court brought to the stage, for the first time, the devastating 4.48 Psychosis, penned by Sarah Kane, who had killed herself the previous year. Now, a quarter of a century on, the theatre reunites the original cast and creative team to revisit this brutal and anguish-filled piece.

The production plunges us into the mind of an unnamed character, grappling with the brutality of a severe and manic depression, desperate for help, but also edging closer and closer to oblivion. Seen in the aftermath of Kane’s death as the writer’s suicide note, the production is an unflinching yet beautifully poetic insight into the mind of a person wrestling with their selves, and largely remains as pertinent now as it did during its original run.

Admittedly, much time has passed since the play debuted in 2000, and with it, attitudes about mental health and suicide have shifted immensely. Yet despite this, the pain and anguish funnelled into this performance, representing not explicitly Kane but very obviously the mind of the writer, remains hard-hitting and painful viewing.

It is a production, though, awkwardly caught almost frozen in time. While the creative team has kept the decisions from 25 years ago, such as the inclusion of television static and grainy timelapse videos of London streets, this contrasts with the inevitable ageing of the cast. As a result, the piece has taken on a new dynamic, capturing a moment in time of a suffering individual yet feeling hauntingly everlasting, much like Kane’s legacy.

Jeremy Herbert’s design is one of many shining parts that continue to thrive in this piece. The decision to suspend large mirrors over the stage brings remarkable clarity to the production. Throughout the piece, performers write, with aplomb, backwards on a centre stage table which then is reflected, easy to read, upon the suspended mirrors. In a performance all about understanding and the desire of sufferers to be understood, there is beauty in the subtlety of this design choice. T

he mirrors also enable the performers to lie sprawled, prostrate, while still enabling the audience to see every twitch, jolt and expression. It also creates some interesting visual illusions, with performers at times appearing to float or appear distorted, depending upon position, which gives further unique insight into the increasingly warped mind of the character. This design succeeds in the intimacy of the Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs space, and complements the performers’ individual deliveries too.

Such is the nature of the piece’s writing; there are no distinguishable characters or, aside from (silence), stage directions either. This provides director James Macdonald with opportunities to divide the lines among the three leads, Daniel Evans, Jo McInnes and Madeleine Potter, in a deft touch that keeps the piece moving but allows for violent changes of mood and focus, enhancing Kane’s volatile script.

Evans, McInnes, and Potter are all striking in this production, slipping back with ease into the roles they originated during the piece’s original Royal Court run. The trio’s clever switching from quiet desperation to frenetic violence is provocative, allowing the piece to maintain its shock factor. Although it is the scenes where they are screaming, appearing strapped upon a table, or pleading ferociously for help, that are the most shocking and memorable, there are also moments of humour and dark comedy, a hallmark of Kane’s writing, that the three draw out successfully.

In addition, the trio allow the piece to breathe through extended silences, often interrupted with abrupt dialogue, but that leave a sense of unease in the air. The silences feel increasingly prolonged as the piece reaches its visually beautiful conclusion, leaving room to ponder and reflect upon the turmoil poured out on stage.

Despite its age, the production is not showing too many signs of wear and tear. It is a production that is not as violent or as shocking as it once was, perhaps impacted by a shift in attitude and content creation since 2000; nevertheless, it is a heartbreaking and gripping piece that still absorbs across its brief yet provocative runtime.