Park Theatre – until 15 October 2022
Reviewed by Claire Roderick
4****
This stunning revival of Barry Keefe’s coruscating drama about institutional racism would be a sobering period piece in an ideal world. Sadly, this production serves to remind us that nothing much has changed since SUS was first performed in 1979.
Lee Newby’s design is pitch perfect – a stark interrogation room with an ashtray full of cigarettes, terrible suits and dodgy moustaches. Before the show, music is interrupted by soundbites from Thatcher. Even though some of the references may mean nothing to younger audience members, the lengthy misogynistic banter about Angela Rippon and Anna Ford could be a conversation overheard today.
It is election night, and Margaret Thatcher looks set to be the next prime minister. Delroy (Stedroy Cabey) has been brought into the police station without knowing why. He assumes it is SUS (suspect under suspicion), a catchall legislation that allowed the police to pick up predominantly black men without any tangible evidence. This is obviously nothing new to Delroy, who jokes that the police always want to talk to him more than he wants to talk to them. He plays along with the police officers, trying to find out why he is there.
Karn (Alexander Neal) and Wilby (Fergal Coghlan) just want a confession so they can leave the station to celebrate Thatcher’s new government – with promises of support for the police and cutbacks for the Welfare state. The suspicious death of Delroy’s wife looks cut and dry to them, and they have Delroy in their sights. Delroy was in the club and has no idea his wife is dead, and the callous way the detectives finally tell him marks a huge shift as Delroy has to deal with the officers’ attacks while shocked and grieving.
Cabey is magnificent as Delroy and his transition from the cocky persona he knows the police expect to see as he tries to read their intentions, to frustration, anger and devastation is beautifully nuanced. Alexander Neal is skin crawlingly good as Karn, the senior detective. The vicious racism behind his crocodile smile and condescending politeness is always clear, but this never lessens the shock as his mask slips and he screams his bile at Delroy. Fergal Coghlan’s Wilby seems less dangerous than his older colleague at first, but it soon becomes clear that his muted reactions are those of someone who must keep tight rein on his violent urges. This is a man who mourns more for a police dog than a black woman who died in agony, and Coghlan exudes casual sadism.
SUS isn’t easy viewing, but this darkly funny and brutal story is as relevant today as the day it was written