Gory dystopian thriller that doesn’t quite live up to it’s potential
The Drayton Arms in South Kensington is where the audience settled in for Debt Meat, a promising dystopia with a fiendish premise – a world where human flesh is the only form of currency. Debts are repaid at the ominous sounding “full-body reclamation” at the Royal Mince, and every citizen dreads a knock at the door. When a girl is snatched away to pay her debts, her sister is desperate to do anything she can to save her, including getting involved with the scandalous dealing of wealthy neighbour Hope and her husband.
As a lover of dystopian fiction, I was immediately gripped by the universe writer and director Benji Edwards creates. His concept is electric and the world-building is well executed, especially as it immediately sets the characters in a bloody class conflict with one another. The direction is also sound, with the show moving along nicely throughout, carried on a tide of simmering tension and blood.
The show is spearheaded by the brilliant Laya Lewis (Skins) in the lead role. Her performance is classy and adds a touch of brilliance to the proceedings. At times it is hard to take your eyes off her as she grips the audience with her emotional range, including a gut-wrenching moment when she slices off her own index finger to pay back debts.
Keegan Carr plays the unfortunate sister, although her performance falls slightly behind the high standard set by others. Her character is naive, an element she captures well, but she fails to show enough of an emotional range away from these scenes. Confusingly, she uses her native American accent throughout despite the show being set in a recognisable version of Blighty.
Alex McKeown is another highlight in his role as a Royal Mince dogsbody. He is every inch the dead-eyed debt collector, and I enjoyed watching him in his role, as he carried out his work with chilly smiles and clipped tones. It’s clear he enjoys the role as well, and it transfers into his first-rate performance.
Wealthy neighbour Hope is played by Jane McDowell, who captures the cold snootiness of domesticity well (perhaps she did some character research at the bar) and drives the story. She delivers her lines well, although I would have liked to hear her use a wider vocal range throughout.
Her husband, played by Renny Mendoza, is another strong performance. He contrasts the other actor’s coldness with a slimy arrogance that develops into paranoia and then rage. His physical tension and emotional outbursts portray these complex emotions very well, although he could have added more depth to the quieter parts of his scenes.
Despite these strong performances across the board, the cast is too large. The bitty roles distract from the overall flow of the show – especially a brief cameo from Edwards – and with a little more foresight these could be easily amended. The flow is further hindered by an interval, meaning the characters take the stage for less than 40 minutes all told.
The sound and light design is also almost completely lacking. It’s a dire shame as this could be an easy way to add drama and tension to a show that already has it in heaps – an open goal that is unfortunately missed.
I would love to see Debt Meat given a chance as a larger production, and the concept certainly merits it. However, in its current form it doesn’t live up to its big potential.