The title, "The Cut," refers to a mysterious, painful killing under the auspices of The State, of an apparently colonial type that for generations has dispatched rebels and just plain natives. Ian McKellen plays the bureaucrat Paul who interviews candidates for, and, if appropriate, administers The Cut. He does so superbly. His Paul is tired -- of the secrecy surrounding his job, of its seeming futility, and most of all of the stress it has put on his life at home. He tries to dissuade his latest victim, portrayed stubbornly by Jimmy Akingbola, from accepting The Cut but fails.
The staging of the actual Cut is rather ambiguous, since it's simple, not as long as it has been described. The victim seems to still be alive as he's carried off, thankful that his fate's been sealed. He's free. The real drama comes in the cut between Paul and his wife Susan (Deborah Findlay, sensitive though having to be somewhat smug). Life together has come down to her grousing about their new cook and his inquiring what she has learned from their son who's at University -- where there's a movement to get rid of The Cut. She's suspicious about what Paul does. He's upset that love, especially sexual, has gone out of their marriage. Nothing is better in the play than their supper together but at ends at a long table. (It's one of the few plays I've ever seen in which people actually eat a whole meal onstage.)
Cross-cuts show a growing bond between son and mother. Paul ends on the other side of their revolution. The final look on McKellen's face is worth half of the play. Lighting is another strong point.
However good it is, though, to see a political play done well, this one could be Cut from better cloth.
