Equus review – desire and desperation in Peter Shaffer’s tale of sex, gods and horses | Section

DDesire emerges from Peter Shaffer’s 1973 tale of sex, gods and horses. Lindsay Posner brings Equus to life in detail, as all energies fluctuate, homoerotic passion grows and the strong attraction of the cow becomes irresistible.

Noah Valentine is brave and tough as Alan Strang, a troubled 17-year-old who, working weekends at the stables, blinds six horses. After refusing to explain in court why he did what he did, Alan sought treatment from Toby Stephens’ rumpled psychiatrist Martin Dysart. Alan becomes intrigued as their sessions go on, relishing the time to retell his story, while Martin begins to lose control of the boy and his ego.

At the back of the stage is a row of six silent men, their chests bare in black. These are our horses, their energy shining as they roll into one powerful animal under the care of James Cousins ​​the pace is moving around. There are no iron horse heads here – the show’s conventions usually follow – but Paul Pyant’s lighting shines on the male bodies in Alan’s homage to the sexuality of these creatures. The boy watches their bodies move in horror as they shake their sides and leap, naked and blind, onto the shoulders of Ed Mitchell, the big horseman.

Produced on a stripped-down stage, with not a bad seat in the house, Posner’s production is as strong as his convincing script, but the show arguably flies too far in its monster era. The combination of horses makes this possible, but it is Valentine who proves it. His performance has the maturity of a deep devotion and the naivety of a lonely child who wants to believe.

How this drama began I must repeat. After studying the bare bones of this crime scene, Shaffer speculated about how it happened and why. Posner’s production hinges on the question of where we place the blame, with Colin Mace’s father pushing against the chest of Alan’s mother, the downtrodden Emma Cunniffe. But in Stephens’ decline we see something deeper and more devastating as she worries about ridding Alan of his demons: the question of how much life is worth if it is devoid of commitment to the world.