Algeria is the beautiful duchess of a land surrounded by a fence. The Fence keeps those beyond it out, but it also keeps everyone in. Every night, Algeria commits an act of subversion and suicide. It is a gesture of such elegant madness, of such controlled hysteria that it puts you in mind of Antigone.
Under cover of darkness, she creeps out to the fence, puts her naked arse up against it and the men from the other side queue to take their turn with her. The defences of her flesh are dissolved, the body of the leader of the state colonised by the apparent enemy. There are other elements of Greek tragedy in Howard Barker's latest play, inspired by the fence in Gaza that creates a barrier between the Palestinians and the Israelis.
Algeria's son, the blind Photo, believes himself to be her nephew and lusts after his aunt. But while this little Oedipus appears blind to the truth, could it be his subconscious has erected a fence to shield him from what he knows but cannot admit?
There are other echoes in this rich stew. Most particularly of Edward Bond's Lear, but also the desperate plight of the modern immigrant trying to break the barriers erected to keep them out. When those outside discover an ingenious way to breach the fence, all barriers - physical, social and psychological - come tumbling down. The duchess and her land become defenceless.
There is so much that is interesting here, and much - such as the metaphor of blindness - that are far too trite. As ever, Barker is capable of writing that encompasses the poetically profound and the profoundly silly in a single sentence. He makes us suffer for his art, creating variations on a theme long after we've got the point. It is a long evening: part agonisingly perceptive, part just agony.
· Ends tomorrow. Box office: 01865 305305. Then touring.
