We’re in a near-future environment not too different from our own – surveillance has increased and more and more services have been out-sourced, including the punishment system. tucker green initially gives little away but the writing uncoils in unexpected but engaging ways, information slowly drip-dripping from the half-finished sentences like sweat from a politician’s brow on election night. And the rhythm it establishes is astonishing, making detailed use of active silences to speak volumes about the relationships between the characters, the interplay between Jean-Baptiste and Claire Rushbrook’s officer is particularly deliciously charged.
But it is in the dark poetry of pain and frustration that hang really nails its colours to the wall. The laser-sharp accuracy with which Three scythes through the anonymised blandness and near-comic futility of the protocols designed to ‘protect’ her is ferocious yet somehow beautiful, a lyrical articulation of lives turned upside down, certainties dissolved and ultimately, the inadequacy of any justice system - no matter how interactive it has become – to provide genuine recompense for such terrible acts.