The Unconquered

Feminism, socialism and surrealism combine in this, the world premiere production of The Unconquered, a play by English writer Torben Betts.

The title refers to a passionate young woman so consumed in a war of words with her parents that she's caught by surprise when a real life coup plunges their country into chaos.

Reports of politicians standing trial for war crimes, the abolition of the monarchy and the redistribution of wealth delight the vehemently anti-establishment schoolgirl as much as they terrify her passionless middle-class parents, but the arrival of a lonely soldier changes everything.

There's so much going on in this dense, intellectual play that watching Muriel Romanes' brisk, highly stylised production is like trying to focus on a series of party political broadcasts while simultaneously listening to the evening news and taking a ride on the waltzers.

It's perhaps the sign of a successful political play when sympathetic characters and tidy solutions are both thin on the ground, but it's a weakness of The Unconquered that Girl (Pauline Turner), to whom the title refers and presumably celebrates, goes almost entirely unchallenged. Her parents (Kevin McMonagle and Jane Guernier) are zombie-like beings so worn down by their dreary bourgeois lives (or perhaps just by their daughter's self-righteous ranting) that they can barely summon the energy to defend their existence.

Visual artist Keith McIntyre has created a striking set, with distorted perspectives and two-dimensional props, in which to house a family of grotesque characters. Outlandish hairdos and chalk-white make-up complete the look, although it's unclear why the parents are dressed in period costume. References to Iraq are overt, with Britain (and Girl) presented both as invader and the invaded.

Surprisingly, given that it was commissioned by the women-focused company Stellar Quines, the play's gender politics feel out of place. Girl's personal attacks on her mother's vapid existence confuse her left-wing tirades, and when her parents turn a blind eye to her rape in order to pursue their own selfish ambitions, the metaphor feels heavy-handed.

The masterful playwright Howard Baker has apparently named Betts as his successor, which is high praise indeed. There are clear similarities between the styles of the two writers, although Betts' use of repetition becomes grating. There's some exquisite dialogue, too, but here there's not much time to savour it.