To a soundscape of ominous music, a suited and bowler-hatted typist diligently sets to work. In the background, spelt out in large bold letters, the word H-A-N-G-M-A-N hangs proud. Mid-stage are three dozing suited characters, their heads heavy on a table. In a world of shadows and uncertainty, these dark clad clowns rouse and play out a perpetual game of crime and punishment whilst the fourth, set apart, oversees everything, types, observes, constructs and destructs. Newspapers are laid smooth on the floor; later, all tumbled and torn, they litter the place. The game is played out with deadly intent: within the hour, crimes are committed, bodies tumble, criminals are sentenced and the ‘guilty’ are executed. The puzzle is who is who, and which role is being played? What is the role of law? In this dancing dynamic of shifting conspiracies and interrelationships, we are plunged into the depths of dim-lit plots.
Immersing us in a shadowy world of newspaper sets and lightbulb pendulums shaded by semi-open books, Hangman is DO-Theatre doing what they do best. Through virtuoso performances, impeccably graceful, lyrical dance, and jerky puppet-like movement we witness a wonderfully fluid series of tabletop sequences, amid newspaper drapes that fold down into papery walls. We have gambling scenes, drinking scenes, spaghetti-eating scenes, hypnotic and intoxicating dance sequences. Newspaper floors scuffle up during a delicious sequence where two men in white shirts perform a spiralling floor dance, moody and sensual to the sound of sea and saxophone. Two lights are swung by the men, swinging above to cast both light and shadow, their lampshades open books with pages splayed. It’s as exuberantly snappy and jovial as it is beautiful, stylish and sinister. The last quiet scene of fine sand spilling down onto hat brims leaves us to ponder. No answers. No conclusions. An open book among scattered torn pages and the relentlessness of time and punishment.