STEPHANIE BROWN draws attention to the hidden labour of the female embroiderers, and how a 19th century replica made no such error
Angry
Southwark Playhouse, London
THERE'S an appropriate lack of ceremony as we enter the world of Philip Ridley’s Angry.
Pre-show, its two actors prowl the confines of a sunken square pit as they size each other up, while a galloping drum beat warns us not to get too comfortable.
We are, after all, in the presence of the mind that brought us The Pitchfork Disney, Dark Vanilla Jungle and Mercury Fur so a little horror, a little romance and a little grotesque fantasy are to be expected.
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