Let me tell you a tale of blood, incest, sex, murder, a bit more blood, actually a lot more blood - all from one family. The House of Atreus.

Atreus married Aerope who gave birth to Agamemnon and Menelaos who dutifully trotted off to Troy when Helen Menelaos’ wife swanned off with/was abducted by Paris (depends how you look at it) and kicked off the Trojan war. Agamemnon riled wife Klytemnestra when he slaughtered/sacrificed (again it’s all about perspective) their daughter Iphigenia to get a good sailing wind for his journey to Troy. In the decade Agamemnon was off fighting Trojans and generally being a man, Klytemnestra took a lover, and the pair of them promptly killed Agamemnon upon his return (not the homecoming he was expecting). Electra was fuming with her mother and convinced brother Orestes to kill mum, which he did only to be racked by guilt. Brother and sister are wanted dead for their act of matricide and their days are distinctly numbered when this latest saga in the house of Atreus begins – Hollyoaks has nothing on this lot.

Helen Edmundson’s adaptation of the Eurpides classic is gripping, vital and incisive. The dialogue is bold and direct, (but retains a classic quality), propelling the weight of the past into the present day. Orestes may be the play’s namesake, but it is as much about the dynamic between Orestes and Electra as anything else. The play also explores the devastation of the Trojan War, and the lives lost on arguably a pointless cause (parallels to today’s political situation bring added intensity and resonance to this old classic).

The set reflects this exploration – around the golden prison/palace (there’s that forward slash again…) are countless red male mannequins - think Anthony Gormley, but red, not in the sea and a lot closer together. These nameless, faceless bodies symbolise the excess of blood (I told you there was a lot of it) already shed in this most bloody of stories.

I made promises of sex too, which comes in the form of Electra’s love, both maternal and sexual, for her brother. Electra is a virgin, and never allowed to forget this by her critics, but with Orestes she is not the outcast and can simply be. Comfortable in his presence she channels her sexual needs and frustrations through him – charging the play with an illicit atmosphere. This is a compelling piece of theatre, with strong and dynamic performances from the entire cast – Shared Experience are back on form.

Lib Murray