Foam review

Based on the disturbing true story of Nicky Crane, a significant figure in the British skinhead subculture of the 1970s and 80s, this tense, intriguing piece poses complex questions about identity, ideology and indoctrination.

Crane – who was at various times a neo-Nazi activist, club bouncer and gay porn actor until his death from an AIDS-related illness – is a deeply complicated character, and playwright Harry McDonald skilfully, non-judgementally interrogates our assumptions about his troubled life. The slow-burning story covers a span of two decades, unfolding through a series of chance meetings with men in public lavatories. Each one Crane encounters mirrors some aspect of his own personality – from his willingness to commit political violence to his desire to live openly as his authentic self.

Director Matthew Iliffe’s production is perhaps too unhurried – there are occasional lulls as Crane struggles to articulate his conflicting feelings. But elsewhere, he builds up some serious tension, charged with eroticism and threat. Nitin Parmar’s ambitious set recreates a public restroom in impressive detail, down to the shiny white tiles, narrow reinforced windows and a sink brimming with water. Jonathan Chan lights it in a teal, subaqueous glow, which brightens to a harsh white halogen glare; at times, hot red or magenta bleed in through the cloudy windows. And David Segun Olowu’s sound design adds to the atmosphere with a patter of dripping water and gurgling pipes underscored by an incessant, ominous ambience.

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