Review: THE INVISIBLE HAND, Kiln Theatre

"Making money can get intoxicating", especially the kind of money American banker Nick Bright starts making for his captors from a drab cell in rural Pakistan. Ayad Akhtar's The Invisible Hand comes back to the Kiln Theatre after its London premiere in 2016, directed as before by its artistic director Indhu Rubasingham.

What ensues after we learn that Nick has been seized from a car by accident (the aim was to nab his boss) is a whirlwind of finance lingo and thrilling action. However, it's what's underneath all the Wall Street jargon and the - frankly impenetrable - rules of the trading world that matters most: Akhtar's exceptionally refined socio-political commentary.

Once Nick (Daniel Lapaine) can't persuade Imam Saleem (Tony Jayawardena) to lower his ransom, the games begin and he decides to raise the $10 million himself. Bashir (Scott Karim) will monitor him and learn everything he can. What Nick doesn't realise is that he's creating a bona fide monster out of the London-born Bashir.

As Nick starts teaching Bashir the tricks of the trade, we discover that Wall Street is all about strategy. And so even as Akhtar tries his best to explain the framework of investments and how it all works through Nick to Bashir - and therefore to his audience - the specifics are quite difficult for a layperson to follow.

That said, it quickly clicks that the financial side of the play is only window dressing and needs to be understood as a political allegory. Rubasingham turns the microcosmos of the cell into a pressure cooker as the street-smart and politically opinionated Bashir gets a taste of money.

Boisterous and noisy, Karim swiftly transforms Bashir into a profound and calculating character who becomes the star of the show. A quick learner, he intimidates the American in order to avoid feeling inadequate at the start, but goes from being the Imam's scary henchman to taking the reins of the operation.

Lapaine is the embodiment of a "finance bro". His life revolves around making money and little else seems to matter. The instances in which he ponders the human casualties that their investments are causing are brief and scattered, and his suggestion that they need to start laundering the funds as a means to quiet any suspicion about their dealings comes as the most normal proposal.

It's only when wealth and power swallow Bashir whole that he realises the implications of what he's been doing. What started as an intellectual game to grant his release and effect a reunion with his family has turned into a civil war, just as he had foreshadowed.

The production is politically charged, visually intriguing, and altogether very exciting. Lizzie Clachan's set design is claustrophobic and ashy-looking, and encloses the action with concrete brick walls. The scenes are separated by blinding flashes and blackouts that often drop the characters in medias res, allowing for an episodic flow of the narrative.

As a whole, The Invisible Hand is not only informative about politics (the reference to Osama bin Laden as a cash cow for the Pakistani government puts his hiding in a different perspective), but opens a window on to the world of trading and its repercussions on real people. The result is a must-see in the current climate.

The Invisible Hand runs at Kiln Theatre until 31 July.

Photo credit: Marc Douet

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