That Night Follows Day

The premise is simple: a group of kids aged eight to 14 address the adults who shape their lives.

When the 16-strong cast arrives on stage there’s an expectant silence. There isn’t a hint of self-consciousness or a flicker of doubt as they form a line across the school gym set, facing forward.

It’s confrontational; even a little intimidating. They may be young but they have the upper hand here, and when they begin to speak as a chorus their innocuous words (‘You choose clothes for us/You sing to us/You watch us when we are sleeping’) feel suspiciously like accusations.

They pick up on contradictions in their education, then run through a seemingly endless list of rules and restrictions. The tone becomes slyly mocking – or is it simply that we, the exposed rule-makers, begin to perceive it as such?

The words have been put in their mouths by the show’s writer and director Tim Etchells. They speak in Belgian, and subtitles are projected on a chalk board suspended above their heads.

They run through some of the things they’ve been taught, games that they’ve played, secrets they’ve overheard and opinions they’ve absorbed. A group tantrum inspired by being told ‘no’, over and over again, gives us a taste of our own medicine.

The performances are remarkable, especially given that some of the smallest performers have the most lines to deliver. It’s tempting to ponder how an equivalent group of Scottish children would deliver the same piece, and it’s impossible not to wish for an English-language production so that attention could be fully focussed on the young performers.

For the most part this is a gently humorous piece that celebrates both the independent spirit of children and the blundering best intentions of their parents and teachers. However, Etchells verges into darker territory every now and then. The increasingly ugly clichés falling from the mouth of a strikingly pretty little girl provided an effective reminder of the power adults have to shape impressionable young minds.