Flush

Any play that deals with rape has to be extremely well constructed to avoid sensationalism and cheap exploitation. Luckily, Flush is extremely well constructed. It's also brilliantly acted. And it's dark. Darker than night.

David Dipper's script delivers a kick in the teeth not unlike Hubert Selby Jr.'s Requiem For A Dream or Bret Easton Ellis' Rules Of Attraction. The audience itself is like a sixth and silent character—an accomplice even—in this production, and is frequently addressed in extended and tightly scripted sequences. This is Brecht as he never intended, a scorching examination of evil and human filth that leaves you shaken and afraid.

There are laughs to be had here, but this is not a comedy. Going to places each one of us—male and female—would rather ignore, the script melds impact with humanity. Each character is both sinner and victim, and humanity is found in the most unlikely of places. Dipper's portrayal of the chilling brutality that men inflict on women is searing, a spiraling whirlpool of sadism and self-hate.

Although sometimes the dialogue could be snappier, this play is a slickly produced and gripping. You will walk away from The Vault happy to see the light of day, but with a sense of deepened understanding for the world around you. Flush is the perfect cure for comedy burnout – this is a trip to the dark side you'll not forget in a hurry.