Violence against women continues to dominate headlines, and in recent years it feels less like a persistent issue and more like an escalating crisis. Sophie Swithinbank’s new play Sting, now in the Young Vic’s Studio, confronts this reality with a chilling candour, while skilfully rooting it within a broader historical context.
The production opens with a jolt: the throbbing pulse of a dancefloor, where Adelle Leonce’s Ash inhabits the music with abandon, before the energy abruptly contracts into the hush of a university archive. Possibly still under the influence, Ash arrives for her first meeting with her new boss, Phoebe Ladenburg’s Lily. They could not be more different. Lily, in her pom-pom slippers, is meticulous and rule-bound, devoted to preserving the fragility of the documents under her care.
Those documents, detailing witchcraft trials across the centuries, begin as artefacts of another time. Yet the “evidence” Lily studies, with its catalogue of supposed markers of witchcraft, soon reveals an unsettling resonance. It is not long before these historical indicators begin to echo ominously into the present.
The traverse stage, framed by looming filing units, neatly captures the duality at the heart of the piece. It shifts fluidly between archive, nightclub and the flat Ash shares with Dom (Nick Blood), a police officer whose presence gradually comes to dominate the narrative. What begins as a sharply observed comedy of opposites between Lily and Ash darkens almost imperceptibly, as Lily’s growing suspicion that Ash is being abused by Dom takes hold.
Swithinbank’s character work is assured. Lily is drawn as competent and quietly determined, her loneliness evident without being overstated. Dom, too, is meticulously charted: initially dependable, even reassuring, his transformation into a domestic abuser is rendered with an unnerving subtlety that never tips into caricature.
It is Ash, however, who proves most elusive. Leonce imbues her with a restless, almost childlike energy, veering from delight to distress at a moment’s notice. At the same time, Ash insists upon her own intellectual authority — a recently completed PhD, the ease of translating Latin texts presented as casually as posting on Instagram. These contradictions are initially compelling, adding layers of unpredictability, though over time they begin to feel less like complexity and more like inconsistency.
What remains consistently impressive is Swithinbank’s ability to weave together the contemporary crisis of domestic abuse with the historical persecution of women labelled as witches. The play frequently threatens to settle into familiarity, only to pivot sharply into something more unsettling. There are moments, however, when the ambition slightly overwhelms the structure. A subplot involving Lily’s connection to an active police investigation never fully integrates, feeling more like an idea than a necessity.
The cast, nevertheless, anchor the production with conviction. Nick Blood is particularly striking, capturing both the charm and the menace of Dom with precision. Ladenburg and Leonce share a compelling chemistry, their relationship forming the emotional core of the piece. Under Nancy Medina’s direction, these strands are held in careful balance, allowing the tension to build without overwhelming the quieter, more reflective moments.
The design elements further enrich the atmosphere. Nicola T. Chang’s sound design, while occasionally overpowering, sustains a persistent unease, the ambient hum as carefully crafted as the more dramatic crescendos. A striking fire sequence, realised through Debbie Duru’s design and Ryan Day’s lighting, is especially immersive, pulling the audience directly into the chaos.
The storytelling in Sting is sharp and often arresting, even when it overreaches. Crucially, it refuses easy answers. Instead, it leaves us with a lingering discomfort, drawing a stark line between past and present, and asking how much has truly changed. In doing so, Sting becomes not just a compelling piece of theatre, but a devastating reflection on the systems that continue to fail women, then, as now.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
