On Mortality and privilege
by Zoë Erwin-Longstaff
We take our seats and face a classic interrogation setting: stark black-and-white colours, a lone straight-back chair with a ceiling-fan overhead. A polished, 30-something woman walks in from the audience, casually takes a seat under the fan and begins to talk. There is no lighting cue; in fact, she barely raises her voice. This minimum bow to theatricality is not compromised throughout the production. If anything the dramatic force of the piece comes from its almost total refusal to embed the discussion in any kind of spectacle.
