Richard (David Shelley) is a successful doctor who has recently moved to the country with his wife Corrine (Federay Holmes). They have made a fresh start in a small town away from the urban rat race, in what on the surface looks to be rural bliss, but turns out to have a dirty undercurrent. Late one summer night Richard discovers a young girl, Rebecca, (Jennifer Kidd) on the side of the road unconscious and brings her back to the family home. The question is why she was on the side of the road, who is she and why did he bring her home? As the play unfolds these questions begin to be answered. The three characters only occupy the stage in pairs in this game of secrets and lies. Richard is cagey about why he brought her back when grilled by his wife. She says ‘kiss me’, he says ‘I have kissed you’ and she says ‘then kiss me again’. This distinct distancing between husband and wife, a gap which grows wider as the plot unfolds, ensures that the tension between them could be cut with a knife and Shelley and Holmes accurately depict the beginning of a disintegrating relationship.

Turning theatrical form on its head, Crimp’s cutting commentary on the darker underbelly of pastoral bliss makes for some seriously good theatre. The tension builds breaks, climaxes and returns with fervour and when Corrine meets Rebecca the verbal chess game is dripping with what is unsaid, making their encounter all the more chilling. Jennifer Kidd delicately balances the character of Rebecca to successfully invoke a sense of a fragile little girl underneath the tough don’t mess with me exterior.

Generally Crimp’s work seems to invoke more questions than answers and this is definitely the case with The Country. The cast seems at ease with the Pinter-esque language, and make it sound natural, evoking a sense of depth with the spare wording; not a simple task. Simon Godwin directs this thriller with a deft hand. Subtle staging choices coupled with intricate detailing marry well with a plot whose word play ensures that there is layer upon layer to be peeled back like an onion.

Crimp’s script manages to ensure words are weighted in such a way, that they often hang in the air like scent, before dispersing to make way for the next onslaught of language. The Country demands that the audience is often caught off guard, unsure of which character to sympathise with, who to believe, and I for one left the theatre still mulling and stewing over the contents of what I had encountered.

Crimp’s plays tend to ensure the audience do not all come out with the same answers, leaves you, to an extent to make up your own mind and his writing has a sticking power, ensuring you continue to think about the play long after the final bows.  For a little bit of escapism and an inquisitive, mind work out definitely go see this 90 minute piece of theatrical mastery.