Slave Play is a play, a play on words, a play within a play. It’s a kaleidoscopic look at the meaning of the word “play” wrapped in a satirical yet clinical yet gut-wrenching examination of the way that Black slavery can permeate the sexual dynamic between interracial couples. A dissection of three relationships with racial identity at their core, it asks difficult questions and demands confronting answers. Jeremy O. Harris’ play is set in three distinctive acts (but played straight through at two hours without an interval). It conjures up a cartoonish crucible of colonialism-meets-BDSM before dissecting the impact of such racially-charged cosplay in group therapy. Each of the play’s three couples have their own distinct journeys as the white partners try to dismantle their own conscious and unconscious white privilege.

Strikingly raw and real is the play’s exploration of the most intimate parts of a relationship. Why is it called a break-up when it is so commonly caused by a break down? Breakdowns of communication, trust and respect are minutely examined in relation to each couple; the end result is theatre that you can’t get enough of. The play is at its best at its rawest moments. These often emerge from the ashes of laughter and satire created by the caricature of American group therapy, played brilliantly by Chalia La Tour and Irene Sofia Lucio. Their pass-agg looks and patronising gestures are hilariously timed and provide light relief but occasionally detracts from the play’s quest to answer its own hard-hitting questions. Yet the irony that their attempts to ‘help’ these couples often led them to interrupt and silence the characters at crucial moments of self-discovery is wonderfully nuanced.

Kit Harington plays the socially oblivious Brit, Jim, never speaking at the right time, incapable of listening to others, wrapped up in his own discomfort. Harris has created a damning yet fair portrayal of white privilege, warning us that it can seep into the most intimate aspects of our lives. Clint Ramos’ set design (a wall of floor to ceiling mirrors) literally reflects this back to us, clever in its demand that the audience reflect on what’s unfolding before them. At times subtle, and at times bold, Jiyoun Chang’s lighting design is also a powerful narrative vehicle. Illuminating shifts in thought, it supplements a journey that appears to be as emotionally turbulent to play as it is to watch.

The most compelling storytelling arc comes from Gary and Dustin, played superbly by Fisayo Akinade and James Cusati-Moyer respectively. Their sex fantasy combines slapstick, interpretive dance, and an applause-inducing monologue from Cusati-Moyer (it comes as no surprise that he was Tony-nominated for playing Dustin on Broadway). When it comes to unpacking their experiences, they provide the most engaging and gut-wrenching display of emotion. As the playfulness of their sexual role play morphs into emotionally-charged rage and heartbreak, we feel like we shouldn’t be watching.

The skill of the writing is in its ability to invoke guttural, guilty laughter one minute, and stunned silence the next. With a confronting and uncomfortable climax, it’s not an easy watch, but it’s a necessary one. It will stay with you long after you leave, not just because of the collective masterclass in performance but because it poses questions we must continue to ask, and demand answers for.

***** Five stars

Reviewed by: Eliza Harris

Slave Play runs at London’s Noel Coward Theatre until 21 September, with tickets available here.