This is a deeply affecting, highly realistic and immersive production. The action of this incredibly intense two-hander exploring the sex trade takes place entirely in a car driven round the suburbs of Edinburgh by an actor, with one other actor in the car, plus only two audience members as passengers. This is itself obviously highly unusual and initially actually quite scary (in a good way!), even for a seasoned contemporary theatre-goer; you are asked to relinquish control entirely to the performers, placing your safety in their (I’m sure very carefully risk-assessed!) hands.

We are being driven by Tom, beautifully played by  actor and co-writer Hayden Munt as an abrasive man in his early twenties, complete with bristling aggression, stained tracksuit and the kind of cold dead eyes that you want to avoid when you meet them in the rear-view mirror. His girlfriend Jess is his powerless passenger, perfectly presented by Sophia Luu as being weak and vulnerable and desperate to engage Tom in idle talk about her far-flung dreams for their supposedly rosy future. Because I know that this production explores the plight of those forced into sex work, the marketing complete with delicate trigger warnings, there is something tragically futile in her soliloquising on marble kitchen worktops and matching accoutrements. Tom’s reactions, at first just dismissive and then increasingly hostile as we reach our first stop (and Jess’s first client) cause a sort of claustrophobia in the car that has me gasping for air. For though this is clearly fiction, the acting is so exceptionally realistic that my main urges as a passenger are primal fight or flight; to intervene or run away!

In post-show dialogue with the director and co-writer Patrick Wilson (who drives the audience members back to the venue to allow for a debrief), I discover that sections of the script are entirely improvised, using a heavily character-led Method approach, and this explains the actors’ extraordinarily accomplished use of timing, which fitted to perfection the unpredictable rhythms of the Edinburgh traffic. This was further enhanced via the confident use of silence, for we’ve all been in those tense car journeys which take place mid-argument, and this feeling was magnified tenfold here, with the odd raised eyebrow or angry glare spied in a mirror being enough to communicate the mood.

When we reach our second stop, an unknown ‘punter’s’ house, events begin to spiral dangerously out of control with breathtaking speed. This rapid escalation is, according to a social worker with whom I discussed the piece, entirely realistic, and in this aspect the company’s in-depth research has clearly paid off. Inevitably, the root of Tom’s anger lies in drug dependency, leading to him objectifying Jess out of a desperate need for a fix and to repay debts owed to his dealer. It is hard to entirely sum up the absolute disgust that I felt at Tom’s treatment of Jess, and how difficult it was to witness both his emotional and physical manipulation and abuse of her. The symbolism of this being a journey with an inevitably terrible end is poignantly underscored by the fact that we are all in a vehicle controlled entirely by him.

Whilst I felt it impossible to sympathise with Tom’s character, I did gain an insight into how cycles of dependency and poverty had led him here, and how as a result Jess was being forced to go along with the ever-more savage events. The piece really opened my eyes to how commonplace this kind of situation probably is; driving around the suburbs and pulling up outside random houses, I began to wonder if there were people nearby experiencing the same, knowing that statistically speaking it is entirely likely. In the debrief I learnt that the company’s aim was to raise awareness of this very fact, the prevalence of sex work and how quickly things can get out of control. Being in the role of ‘powerless’ passenger/observer is a deeply unsettling but I think vital one, both on the level of being able to experience such a raw and visceral piece, but also in prompting the notion in me that in real life I could be far more active in helping someone like Jess.