Woodhill is a play that slaps you in the face in the best way possible. It is stylised, well-designed and provides the perfect example of verbatim theatre done well. Though stark, harrowing and horrific, that is exactly what this production should and must do.
While theatre projects in prisons are now a regular feature, theatre about life in prisons is few and far between. Handing out flyers with a petition to sign in support of efforts to protect prisoners at Woodhill prison at the play’s beginning sets a tone of protest. It makes its point loud and clear: Woodhill prison is treating their inmates extremely poorly.
With a barrage of testimonials and bureaucratic mumblings which wrack you to the bone, real-life reports from the prison make up the bulk of Woodhill‘s script. We examine the children of three families as they navigate poor mental health within the prison, borne from the prisoners’ terrible welfare.
The ensemble treats every moment with respect and a genuine, honest passion. Using gesture based-choreography, their movements come to resemble how the families are also controlled and trapped in a system – arms always twisted or tied by someone else’s hands.
Throughout the performance there is a figure dressed all in grey: the ghost portrayed by Chris Otim who stalks the families: haunting them throughout the piece. Lurking in the shadows and springing up between the set which is composed of office style, metal racks, the ghost scatters the ashes of the dead and showers the stage with condolence messages — a constant reminder of the lives uprooted by the prison.
Perhaps this is a little literal, although as the performance progresses the unmasking of this ghost brings the immediacy death to the fore. With a more decisive approach, the ghost could take on a lot more significance, as the role felt at times confusingly placed.
Physicality blended with testimonies is the right choice for this performance. Movement is free and flowing which perfectly juxtaposes the prisoners’ realities and the often stern, bleak audio recordings.
The sense of grief does become too heavy in places. Matt Woodhead, composer and writer of Woodhill, does well to blend the stories in a way that does not urgently seek a narrative. With less material, this verbatim style would flourish even further. The stories come too thick and fast at the play’s closure.
The design is simply one of the best I’ve seen so far. In the opening, the ensemble paced around the space collecting boxes and arranging and rearranging them, creating panic and urgency. The cardboard boxes littered across the space served as a powerful metaphor for the box-assigning, restrictive system which the prison institution enforces.
Will Monks’ lighting design has lightbulbs pulsating as memories are triggered and fast blackouts provide a dividing line between stories. The lighting design smartly brings focus to the narrative, in a way not often seen. It is a tour-de-force, and a brilliant demonstration in how to optimise technical elements to support a piece, not letting them take over.
Woodhill is a special piece of theatre at the Fringe this year. Unmissable, essential viewing.
Catch Woodhill at ZOO Southside (Main House) from August 11-30 (Not 10, 17, 24) at 14.25 (75 minutes). Tickets are available through the EdFringe Box Office.
Image credit: Alex Powell













































