Of all the theatres under threat because of Covid-19 I cannot imagine a greater sense of loss than if the Finborough were to close its doors permanently. In the year of its 40th anniversary the tiny venue, which is perched atop a pub in west London, has been clinging to existence by releasing a new play every month during its closure.

The latest is a recording of Sarah Grochala’s bleak but gripping response to Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge-inflicted genocide. Performed in 2009 it is exactly the kind of modest-in-means but richly rewarding theatre that, under artistic director Neil McPherson, this venue regularly conjures, seemingly out of not much more than thin air.

That said, it looks like no expense was spared in realising designer Olivia Altaras’s recreation of the school that the Khmer Rouge turned into a notorious interrogation centre. All the action takes place in the corner of a classroom, a set built with an eye for detail right down to the stains on the walls once occupied by pictures and posters.

Grochala’s starting point is the thousands of inmates who were photographed by the real-life photographer Nhem En before being executed. The portraits, with an ID tag around the neck of each victim, have since been used as a form of silent testimony. But Grochala puts words to these images by imagining the moments just before the shutter is pressed by the photographer whose name here is May, played by Pippa Nixon.

These exchanges between the photographer and her subjects reveal some of the lengths to which ordinary people had to go to prove loyalty to the revolution. This includes May herself who, we learn, survived by shooting a family member.

In a series of short scenes Stephen Keyworth’s production manages to convey both the conspicuous brutality and hidden humanity of such a place. Yet it does this while avoiding the trap into which so many genocide plays fall — the unintended exploitation that so often results when actors depict extreme suffering. Nixon’s performance terrifically conveys the suppression of human empathy for people whose capital crimes include eating berries off a tree while starving or going for a swim in a lake.

The production is a tough uninterrupted 60 minutes. But it keeps its audience glued with the tantalising promise that somehow the human spirit will survive. No wonder the work won Amnesty International’s first playwriting competition.

The stream is free, but don’t forget to seek out the crowdfunding donations page for the Finborough’s SaveOurTheatre appeal.

And especially don’t forget to go the theatre itself in the coming post-vaccine world.
https://finboroughtheatre.co.uk/