Review: BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, Southwark Playhouse

When we think of the repercussions of the meat industry, we usually consider the millions of animals that are brutally killed every year, as well as the effects it has on the environment. The fallout of what’s essentially arbitrary murder on those who work at the abattoirs is rarely considered. Grace Joy Howarth writes a generally engaging and thought-provoking play that explores the human side of the slaughterhouses.

Former veterinarian Kostyantyn moves to a small town in Wales from Ukraine and takes up a job at a local abattoir. He immediately becomes friends with Dan, a Welsh lad with a big grin and an even bigger heart. Like Kostyantyn, Blood On Your Hands takes on more than it can handle. It may be stylistically inconsistent, but it opens up an interesting conversation about the people who bring steaks to your tables right in time for the tail end of Veganuary.

Directed by Anastasia Bunce, it’s knotty and it partially loses its visual identity halfway through. The eloquent, physical interludes (by movement director Tessa Guerrero) that act as scene changes and add an extra inch of inventiveness suddenly stop in favour of duller in-and-out transitions in semi-darkness. Though the script has a tendency to trail off on various tangents here and there, it carries enough potency to leave its mark. However, between immigration and war, the housing crisis and exploitative employers, rocky relationships and mental health, it’s a feat of juggling and doesn’t always have a strong impact.

The symbolism also seemingly starts off being a priority, only to get discarded towards once it’s established. There’s an especially striking sequence where Shannon Smith (Kostyantyn) and Phillip John Jones (Dan) slash invisible beasts, splattering blood on a plastic curtain before cutting through jute sacks, extracting bloody guts, turning the white tiles a bright red. It’s a nightmarish display, disturbing and highly affecting. If the whole show followed the same level of intense brilliance, it would be an instant hit. A more ruthless thematic choice and more decisive vision might still get it there.

Smith and Jones share an exciting chemistry. Where Kostyantyn’s English is wobbly, Dan breaks any and all language barriers with a jolly personality that hides a deep and troubled sadness. Their timing is excellent, but their exchanges tend to bloviate and deviate from the core theme of the project. Ultimately, there’s too much at stake and not enough focus in the text. A good 15 to 20 minutes out of the 90 could be condensed too.

Set designer Ahmet Buyukcinar combines forces with Alex Powell, the latter’s projections engulfing a static design that’s effective in its simplicity. All in all, it’s not surprising that the piece has landed on a number of short- and long-lists for national awards. There’s plenty of meat under the fat. It's perhaps time to trim it.

Blood On Your Hands runs at Southwark Playhouse until 3 February.

Read our guest blog from Patch Plays' Anastasia Bunce and Grace Joy Howarth on the activism and the play here.

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