Review: THE WASHING LINE, Chickenshed

The murder-suicide at Jonestown in 1978 opened the world's eyes to the power of quasi-religious cults, many of which became tabloid bogeymen in the 80s. In the 2010s, new words began to appear in the media, words that replaced the science-fictionish 'brainwashing' and the emasculated 'drinking the Kool Aid' - words like 'grooming', 'radicalisation' and 'county lines'. The labels changed, but the seductive appeal was the same.

It is against this new environment of psychological and physical coercion that, five years or so ago, Chickenshed's students put together a show based on the events in Guyana almost half a century in the past, a show that has been further developed by Dave Carey and Bethany Hamlin into a distressing, beautiful, moving production that only this company could deliver (or conceive).

Using graduates of the school for all on-stage and backstage roles, director, Michael Bossisse, floods his traverse with actors, dancers and singers who capture the energy, the joy, the certainty of what it is to believe in the man who says (I paraphrase) "I Alone Can Fix It". Kids who were lost in teenage doubt, people who had been subjected to appalling racism under the Jim Crow system and those looking for a paradise rooted in collective values, were drawn to Jimmy Jones, a preacher with years of experience in delivering what people wanted to hear. He also had the political connections to facilitate his dream being realised in the jungles of South America. It wasn't long before the dream curdled into a nightmare.

As always, Chickenshed's extraordinary cavalcade of humanity bring an energy to the space, a largely blank set that both reflects the simplicity of life in the camp and co-opts us into the swathe of individuals who joined The People's Temple. And these victims are crucially given back their individuality. In the interviews we hear, they describe much of their life as happy and fulfilling, surfing the endorphin rush of collective activity (the choir that opens the second half is truly magnificent and almost had me joining in) and we see ordinary human beings in the gestures, clothes and looks the cast adopt, anything but the zombies of lazy stereotyping. They may start the production on the ground flat out as the cyanide flowed through their veins, but their souls are revived by actors who respect them as men and women much like us.

A sweet love story weaves in and out of the horror, Lara Decaro (who sings beautifully) and Alex Brennan play two kids looking into each others' eyes as kids always have the world over. Finn Walters and Jimmy Amadou (doing a fine job understudying at short notice) never let us forget the scale of the death, as first responders walking into a hellish scene and attempting to document the evidence. Jonny Morton, all dyed black hair and polyester shirts and Gemilla Shamrock, sinister and controlling, give us a Jimmy and Marceline Jones high on their shared God Complex, ruthless in their dedication to 'revolutionary suicide'.

It's a very different subject and tone to previous shows at this venue (though it never shies away from hard-edged material), the storytelling is as clear and affecting as ever, Marvin Gaye's music twisted to reflect the warping of his message of resistance and emancipation, Phil Haines' sound design capturing the humid claustrophobia of the enclave. There's a bit of Hamilton in the rhythms and rapping and a bit of Value Engineering: Scenes from the Grenfell Inquiry in the voices returned to the voiceless, two fine influences.

But mostly it's just unique.

The Washing Line is at Chickenshed until 26 March

Photo Caz Dyer

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