Sarah Kane Cleansed piece

Sarah Kane’s is a name that is spoken with reverence in certain circles of British – and central European – theatre. This controversial playwright, who for many years struggled with severe depression, burst onto the scene in the mid-90s with a series of exceedingly violent and formally experimental works – starting with Blasted, whose 1995 debut caused uproar – before taking her own life in 1999 at the age of 28. Cleansed (1998), considered by many to be Kane’s best work, is now receiving a rare revival at the Almeida, London’s most exciting theatre by far. Kane’s work was, initially, received predominantly negatively by critics, who were appalled at the horrors evoked and bewildered as to what it all added up to. After her shocking death, a rapid reappraisal was effected; there was obviously sorrow at a promising young life lost, as well as a nagging feeling that some essential element might have been missed in the haste to pass judgement. When her last play, 4.48 Psychosis, completed shortly before she died and premiered posthumously, opened at the Royal Court in 2000, the critical mood had shifted markedly, not least because that character-free work deals with the spirals a dangerously fragmented mind. I saw that original production of 4.48 Psychosis (a production elegantly revived at the Royal Court with its first cast in 2025) and was loosely admiring but largely confused by its fiercely elliptical nature. Until last night, however, I had quite deliberately always avoided Cleansed, repelled by the idea of the torturous agony contained therein. So, did I experience a Damascene conversion in Islington, not least because this production is helmed by star director Rebecca Frecknall (Cabaret, A Moon for the Misbegotten)? I’m afraid to say that I very much did not. The onslaught of violence in Sarah Kane’s ‘Cleansed’ is so extreme that it becomes deadening (Photo: Marc Brenner) The setting is a grim institution, overseen by Leo Bill’s sadistic Tinker. (Interestingly, Kane’s stage directions in the published text state that this is a “university”). To a soundtrack of minatory thumping beats, we learn that imprisoned therein are a brother and a sister and a gay couple, all of whose devotion to each other will be tested far beyond any conceivable limits by extreme acts of torture and mutilation. Two summers ago, the Almeida made the news for the number of audience members fainting at the depiction of abortion in The Years; that now seems like the Teddy Bears’ Picnic compared with this. Let’s hope that there are paramedics standing by for the duration of the run. The onslaught of violence – anal rape, body parts being removed in ever more sickening ways -is so extreme that it’s deadening. At one point my thoughts even drifted to my tax return, only to be brought back by Bill offering the undoubted line of the night: “I may be a c*nt, but I’m not a t*at” (try that one out in your next work Teams meeting!). Kane’s bleak-as-all-hell motto seems to be: make the most of the grim present moment, as everything is about to get a whole lot darker. Yet here in 2026, after the news in recent years from Ukraine, Israel and Gaza among others, I think we’re already acutely aware of the worst that human beings can do to each other, so why do we need to watch this? Kane enthusiasts claim that the point of Cleansed is that love, somehow, still endures, but I would vehemently argue that this is not sufficient reason to subject yourself to this gruelling deluge. If the thought of Kane intrigues you, search out the script of 4.48 Psychosis, which demonstrates poetic anguish without all this unnecessary cruelty. As for me , I still wonder whether this particular dramatic emperor is wearing new clothes, or nothing at all. ‘Cleansed’ is at the Almeida Theatre, London until 29 August (almeida.co.uk)