Jean-Paul Sartre is probably best known for his oft-quoted epithet that 'Hell is other people', from his slightly better-known play In Camera. Men Without Shadows (Morts Sans Sépultures – which translates literally as Deaths Without Burials) certainly contains some similar sentiments, on the surface at least, as its idealistically symbolic yin/yang protagonists, trapped together in a derelict house, play a game of interrogatory chess with one another. Set during the fag-end of the Second World War in an occupied France swallowing its own tail in a flurry of collaboration and resistance, it's one of the celebrated chin-stroker's lesser-known theatrical works. Remarkably, it’s the first time the play has been staged in London since its 1947 debut.

But after blowing away 60 years of dust, the end result – partly thanks to this lean production, partly to the play itself – is a taut, claustrophobic and thoroughly modern stage thriller. There's a makeshift militia office, July 1944, where a rag-tag assortment of captured resistance Maquisards are being held in the upstairs room, handcuffed, nervously pacing the floor and discussing whether or not to reveal the location of their leader, Jean. One of them – Canoris, the Greek (an engaging performance from Kevin Heaney) – has already been tortured. Downstairs, the French Milice, charged with extracting this information, listen to the BBC Home Service and talk about who to torture next, and how they might do so. They’re not Nazis, but their brand of home-made brutality is no less fearful.

Heavy, bleak and at times morbidly shocking, Men Without Shadows is tough going, but it's also far more gripping than its author's po-faced reputation might suggest. Mitchell Moreno's spare, considered production (and Kitty Black's translation) brings the play sharply into focus. There are shades of Orwell's 1984 and even a touch of Pinteresque absurdity to proceedings – the interrogators indifferently eating breakfast as a prisoner is nearly drowned in a washing tub; the Maquisards silently, inexplicably, chasing cigarette-papers through the air.

It's played out by a uniformly strong cast that's never less than reliably understated. Lawrence McGrandles Jr's mature, well-shaded performance as the resigned, conscience-wracked – but far from innocent – leader of the interrogators, attempting to settle his accomplices' psychopathic urges and wartime opportunism with reasoned debate, is particularly believable and the part suits him well. Charlie Covell as Lucie, the only woman prisoner, delivers a bold, severe performance that forms the play's moral heart. Mamoru Iriguchi's set design, with only the flipping of a table and the hanging of a map denoting the two different floors, is simple and elegant. The whole production has a professional fluidity – the play has seemingly already started at the beginning, the Maquisards nervously pacing the stage and coughing until the lights dim and things gradually commence.

It doesn't get everything right. The hand-wringing discussions in the dimly lit upstairs room where the bored, scared rebels await their fate occasionally outstay their welcome, the performances merging into autopilot when things takes a turn for the didactic. Although this has more to do with the script than the actors, the torture scenes, when they come (and they do) are committed and unexpectedly alarming.

When the characters are being 'themselves' (which, thankfully, they are for the most part), as opposed to mouthpieces for Jean-Paul Sartre’s lofty existentialist theories about the nature of individual responsibility, the production is powerful and affecting. It demonstrates that, at its best, the ability of great drama to put across strong, complex ideas and emotions with a glance and a few well-chosen, well-timed words, packs far more of a punch than a doorstop volume of high-browed theorising. It's something that, more often than not, this production succeeds in doing.

Cast Credits: (alpha order): Martin Behrman – Corbin. David Couch – Pellerin. Charlie Covell – Lucie. Andrew Fallaize – Clochet. Kevin Heaney – Canoris. Sam Hodges – Jean. Jamie Lennox – Henri. Lawrence McGrandles Jr – Landrieu. George Rainsford – François. Stephen Sobal – Sorbier.

Company Credits: Company credits: Writer – Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980). Translation from Morts Sans Sépulture by Kitty Black. Director – Mitchell Moreno. Design – Mamoru Iriguchi. Sound – Matt Downing. Lighting – Adam Mottley. Deputy Stage Manager – Alexandra Melville. Assistant Stage Manager – Bonnie Chan. Assistant Director – Alex Summers. Paper Props – Debbie Hammond. Poster Image – Jean-Paul Berthoin. Graphic Design – Hannah Barton and Luisa Bucciero

END

(c) Dan Geary 2007

reviewed Wednesday 27 June 07 / Finborough Theatre

Fringe Report (c) Fringe Report 2002-2012

www.fringereport.com