Knives in Hens

The National Theatre of Scotland’s current tour of Knives in Hens is a production with two distinct voices. David Harrower's play is a beautifully literate work about language and the power of identity; director Lies Pauwels has created a visual feast depicting the war of the sexes. While each artist has much to say, together the result is a bit of a cacophony.

The play is considered by many to be a modern classic. Set in an unspecific time and place, it follows a recently married woman and her relationships with her ploughman husband and the hated local miller. The play is more about discovery and the importance of personal expression than it is about plot points, and many of its finest moments are found not in what the characters do but in what they say.

Pauwels, however, seems to have little interest in telling this story. Instead, through clever staging and choreographed movement, a number of interesting scenarios are painted, including depictions of submission, dominance and sexual desire.

The set looks like an art installation mixing gymnastics and the circus with a collection of empty bottles, and the rather cheeky music selection ranges from classical to pop music. When delivering lines, the actors (four of them, including an extra ensemble player) stand downstage before three microphones and usually look out at the audience when speaking, rather than at each other.

It’s all rather impressive. It is highly creative, brilliantly performed by its committed ensemble and, no matter what one thinks of it, likely to linger in the mind for some time.

However, with its forced-upon concept, the production comes across as an artistic war between writer and director, resulting in a production that is likely to split audiences. Those who like their theatre to be literate, and those who are fans of Harrower’s play, will probably dislike what they see, but those who like the experimental will probably find much to enjoy. I can’t say that I liked it, but I certainly admired it.