As soon as we stray into the BATS Stage space we encounter stray creatures creeping about the raked auditorium and stage area: a blood red fox (Screecher: Fig Quinn), stalking and wary; a delicate white owl (Night Stalker: Callie Chinery-Tompkins), flitting and inquisitive; a tall antlered creature (Looming Branches: Becky Lusty), serious, mysterious and reading a book – all exquisitely created (Costume Design: Dannielle Arnott; Costume Assistant: Amelia Miller; Hair and Make Up: Jamie Sayers).

They and the set are astonishing (Design Director and Set Designer: Nathan Arnott). Stage right there’s a mountain of old wooden chairs, desks and cupboards, upon which Night Stalker will occasionally roost; from within which Screecher will slink through a secret portal. Stage left there’s the semblance of a teenager’s bedroom. There are surprises beneath the bed that I won’t divulge here.

The walls are dark and brooding, suggesting overgrowth (rather than undergrowth) with small picture frames embedded here and there, and green eyes gleaming from dark recesses. Lighting Designer/ Operator Alex Quinn, and Sound Designer/ Operator Sami Bennie, combine to give the space a haunted, disrupted and disturbing feel. It’s worth referring to the publicity and programme blurb for affirmation of what we sense: “Strays is a feminist eco-thriller play set in a dystopian world, where human life is scarce and nature has reclaimed the Earth.”

Into this space runs a young woman in a white dress, as a Radio Watcher voice-over (Nathan Arnott) insists, “She must be found.” The fugitive (Izzy Christie) IDs herself as Lorna Gold as she records the first of several audio diary messages, declaring herself to be an enemy of creatures and watchers. She feels as unsafe here as she did back in ‘the city’. For her, nature is as foreboding as the city was forbidding. Although she aspires to being a hero, this dystopian environment does not seem to be good for her health. Christie captures some excellent comedic moments amid the dramatic turmoil.

Another young woman – Watcher (Jamie Sayers) – in quasi-military attire and armed with a knife, comes searching. She finds the identical recording device and listens to what Lorna is saying. We’re in two different time frames, then. (If I saw this again, I would look for the moment Lorna loses her recorder in the spot where Watcher finds it.) It becomes apparent that Watcher is more than a foot soldier for a totalitarian regime, and Sayers ensures we are intrigued by what seems to be her dilemma, or would ‘split loyalty’ describe it better?

I’m loath to describe much more of the action because it is purposely enigmatic. What engages the audience is the need to connect the proverbial dots as Lorna and Watcher approach each other from opposite ends of the timeline. I sense we are sharing Lorna’s subjective experience while observing Watcher’s objective quest and assessing whether their finding each other will lead to a good or bad outcome.

Woven into these action streams are references to Louisa May Alcott’s 19th-century ‘coming of age’ novel, Little Women. Its opening lines (slightly trimmed) are quoted more than once:
“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.
“We’ve got Father and Mother, and each other,” said Beth contentedly from her corner.
“We haven’t got Father, and shall not have him for a long time.” She didn’t say “perhaps never,” but each silently added it, thinking of Father far away, where the fighting was.

It becomes apparent that Lorna identifies with Beth, and that her father used to read that story to her and her sister when they were much younger. Whether Lorna now thinks she is Beth is for each audience member to query. Meanwhile, Watcher’s hunt for the fugitive continues.

At times, the creatures converse with Lorna – if having “Who are you?” screamed at you can be called conversation – while Watcher communicates with the voices of Radio Watcher, and sometimes with her husband, Tom (Will McMorran) and daughter Gracie (Lula Hyland-Dixon). Without giving too much more away, let me just mention (as it does in the programme) that Watcher’s actual name is Viv.

Inexorably, the timelines and subjective/objective perspectives merge, leaving each observer to come to their own conclusion as to where exactly ‘reality’ lies. For me the ending is more puzzling than shocking. Like Chekhov’s gun, the knife is used. Why? Is it a ‘just following orders’ moment, a mercy killing or a metaphor for the end of innocence? The whole play can be seen as an allegory for the rite of passage from adolescence to adulthood.

Whatever degree of certainty each of us may arrive at, there is no doubt that everyone on stage knows who they are, where they are and why they are doing what they do. We therefore believe the conundrums can be solved.

Strays is the brainchild of its Director, Ella Ford, who collaborated with Playwright Pan Clark, Design Director Nathan Arnott and the cast and crew to develop the play and production. While what they and their crew have created is wondrously compelling, it’s clear they know more than we could ever glean, coming to it ‘cold’. The challenge in developing the next draft will be to give us access to the embedded truths, whether they surface gradually or hit us with ‘aha!’ and ‘get it’ moments.  

In all, I am thrilled and heartened to see such skill and creativity emerging from this year’s 6 Degrees initiative.

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