Sodome, My Love
There is something powerful at work in Rough Magic’s Sodome, My Love, a kind of theatricality that makes the most of stage and sound to communicate what works best when interpreted as a simple narrative. Olwen Fouéré is magnetic as the last daughter of Sodom, rising from her salty grave to recast her city as a lost civilisation of pleasure and beauty, rather than a place of perversion and sin. She bears witness to the events that brought about her city’s downfall, a city destroyed by trust and temptation: It is in welcoming an emissary from their enemies who carries with him the seeds of contagion that the citizens of Sodom seal their own downfall. Their story is told in Fouéré’s own translation from the Laurent Gaudé original, and the result is a language that is lyrical and haunting. “I was killing you whilst I greeted you,” the emissary tells those he has come to destroy. Fouéré commands the space and the story with physical force under Lynne Parker’s direction, though something falls away in an ending which draws an unconvincing line between the fate of Sodom and a highly sexualised modern Ireland. Still, Fouéré’s performance and the haunting urban visuals that flicker against a sparse and stunning set retain a resonance that transcends these final moments. For a second opinion, have a look at what Peter Crawley had to say. Sodome, My Love runs at the Project Arts Centre until March 27.