A gruelling and uncomfortable play (that needed one more draft)
Sting is relentless. In the first ten minutes there is a miscarriage; Ash (brilliantly performed by Adelle Leonce) starts her new job as an archivist cataloguing witch hunts, when she bleeds. Over the next hour and a half, playwright Sophie Swithinbank gives us cults, arson, serial murderers, pet rabbits, sexual violence, and anaphylaxis in her valiant effort to explore control.
Ash is young and quirky – she wants a ‘fern for oxygen’ – but has had a traumatic past – and is told she ‘sucks up the bad’. Her new boss, Lily, is writing a book on the persecution of 17th century witches and researching possible links between witch executions and a modern day murder investigation. This is then paralleled by Lily’s investigation into Ash’s boyfriend, Dom, a ‘policeman’, who she suspects is abusive. Ash spends the play running between Lily’s archive – at one end of the traverse stage – and Dom’s home – at the other; between loving aid and destructive control. It is harrowing watching the emotional turmoil of a smart woman trying to escape a coercive relationship. But Ash’s battle becomes confusing in the latter half as the play fractures into a cluttered collection of unlikely moments and Lily’s promise as an astute investigator is unfulfilled.
Amongst it all are unanswered side plots. Marks on Ash’s neck match those of the area’s murder victims and imply Dom is the killer, but this is never fully explored. Later, the evidence from the witch-hunts and Lily’s investigation into Ash’s abuse both burn, to no apparent consequence. In the programme, Swithinbank argues that the unresolved nature of these crimes is the point, but watching the play alone, that point doesn’t land. Lily delivers a few speeches on witch trials but neither Lily nor Ash connect the structures that perpetuated violence towards women then with the predatory police force and ineffective justice system that let Ash down now. Sting feels reminiscent of John Proctor is the Villain, which got a West End transfer, but there the audience get to watch as the girls realise how the events of The Crucible are being echoed in their own lives.
Sting isn’t always tidy or logical but that doesn’t stop it from being fearlessly compelling. The lighting and sound design supercharge the plot; the music reverberates in our bodies; we watch the second half through a screen of smoke; the actors throw themselves into powerful performances. Sting gives rage a voice. You can feel Swithinbank’s anger. And that, all in all, makes it worth a bit of mess.
This show runs at Young Vic until 18th July. Tickets here.