He seems nice, at first. Then you learn what he’s done. Grappling with the reality that every five days a woman in England and Wales is killed by a partner or an ex, Martha Loader’s Bruntwood prize-winning play is a sobering watch. With suggestions of something deep-rooted and suffocating, Bindweed confronts the pervasiveness of violence against women and the task of curbing it.
Denial and self-hatred share the Arcola’s stage as four men who have committed domestic abuse attend group therapy led by an ex-cop, Jen (Laura Hanna). Jennifer Tang’s direction holds the multi-roleplaying cast taut throughout, their fists clenched and shoulders heavy. Every week these men gather, arguing and peeling back layers of themselves. “It’s like working with children,” Jen tells a friend. “Really big, dangerous children.” Designer Lulu Tam frames the performers with white chairs hanging above the stage, a jumble of the domestic and institutional.
Some of the men’s violence ripples at the surface. In others, it’s pushed down deeper. Moray Treadwell is eerily calm as a repeat offender and former vicar who still wears his clerical collar every day, and Sean Kingsley is devastating as charming, brutal Brian who chuckles his way through explaining smashing his wife’s head in. Shailan Gohil tips into caricature as Jen’s leery date Peter – a plotline that is scary yet predictable – but he holds the stage as offender Charlie, terrified of being unable to break the cycles of aggression he’s grown up with.
Loader’s assured script finds the men’s humanity in ways that complicate and deepen but never absolve them. The more we learn about the group, the harder it seems to cleanse their bone-deep brutality, even when they detest it in themselves. A smart subplot where Jen’s friends (a richly versatile Simon Darwen and Josie Brightwell) laugh off their son’s bad behaviour illuminates how these tendrils of violence and misogyny can spread early and young.
The high tension can be almost wearying, with the sessions’ circling arguments risking falling into a monotony of violence. But the final scenes grab tight, their revelations sharp and shocking. The action is rooted by Jen’s exhaustion and fury, vividly showing what an impossible job she has, to try to be the one who fixes these men. To have to deal with the grief when she can’t.
• At the Arcola theatre, London, until 13 July
In the UK, call the national domestic abuse helpline on 0808 2000 247, or visit Women’s Aid. In the US, the domestic violence hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). In Australia, the national family violence counselling service is on 1800 737 732. Other international helplines may be found via www.befrienders.org.
