Hugo Timbrell’s An Instinct, directed by Lucy Foster, which has just opened at the Old Red Lion Theatre, is a tense and unsettling queer thriller that grips from the outset. Shortlisted for the Theatre503 International Playwriting Award, this 90-minute piece is set during the early days of a nationwide lockdown, though the pandemic it depicts is deliberately ambiguous. It feels familiar enough to evoke memories of Covid, think banana bread and social distancing, yet distant enough to suggest something more sinister.
The action unfolds in a single room, a cabin in the woods that designer Kit Hinchcliffe renders with remarkable authenticity. A tattered couch, worn table and chairs, and a log burner create a space that feels both homely and claustrophobic. Sound designer Julian Starr adds an eerie dimension with the howl of wind outside, making the audience feel the chill and isolation that permeates the story.
Max (Connor Dumbrell) has fled the city with his ex-boyfriend Tom (Joe Walsham), seeking refuge in Tom’s family cabin. Their fractured history soon surfaces: Max left Tom for Charlie, who is conspicuously absent at first. As the play progresses, doubts creep in. Is Tom telling the truth about what’s happening beyond the cabin walls? The writing cleverly draws the audience into Max’s paranoia, leaving us to question reality alongside him.
When Charlie (Ben Norris) finally arrives, the dynamic shifts dramatically. His version of events contradicts Tom’s, and Max finds himself trapped between two men whose motives are increasingly opaque. Norris delivers a standout performance, oscillating between tenderness and volatility with unnerving ease. His sudden bursts of violence are shocking, yet never feel gratuitous. Dumbrell captures Max’s vulnerability with nuance, charting his journey from carefree escapism, such as a desire to be chopping wood shirtless for Instagram, to a man consumed by fear and doubt.
Timbrell’s script is sharp and layered, exploring themes of coercive control, trust, and identity against the backdrop of isolation. At times, exposition weighs heavily, but the tension rarely falters. Foster’s direction ensures the twists land effectively, and the confined setting amplifies the sense of entrapment. The play’s greatest strength lies in its unpredictability: just when you think you’ve solved the puzzle, another revelation upends your assumptions.
An Instinct is not just a thriller, but a reflection on the fragility of relationships under pressure. It asks uncomfortable questions about power and truth, and does so in a way that feels hauntingly relevant.
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