A few minutes before When We Died began, a fellow audience member says “That’s what I love about fringe theatre, they have the balls to put on something like this.” Indeed, the one-woman show by Alexandra Donnachie and Carbon Theatre grapples with a challenging question — how to sensitively tell the story of a devoted embalmer preserving the body of her recently deceased rapist? Luckily, the show navigates its emotionally complex premise with plenty of grace and precision.

“The show navigates its emotionally complex premise with plenty of grace and precision”

The play is clearly situated in a post #MeToo era, with original versions of it first premiering in 2017 — the same year that the movement against sexual violence went viral. It takes us inside the head of a sexual assault survivor and the resultant messy feelings that arise alongside the healing process. For the narrator, her feelings against her perpetrator move beyond black-and-white morality into a grayer area when she considers his grieving wife and loved ones. Her reactions to her experience of harassment shed light on the long-term damage that assault can have on individuals’ lives — she isolates from friends and family and struggles with self-doubt and victim blaming.

Dr. Julia Langley acted as a theatre trauma consultant for the show, encouraging an intentional approach to the difficult topic. The pre-show handouts included “support services” ranging from the NHS Sexual Assault Referral Centre (SARC) to The Survivor’s Trust. The presence of such resources is proof that the artists behind When We Died recognize the severity and reality of the story they depicted, going above and beyond to ensure a safe environment was provided to the audience.

Donnachie’s hour-long performance used motion as a means to grasp her audience’s attention. She took on the role of both the narrator as well as additional characters in conversation with her protagonist, a means of filtering the story entirely through the narrator’s stream of consciousness. The show’s limited set and props focussed attention on Donnachie’s performance, prioritizing narration and blocking as means of conveying the story. As she described her embalming process, she used her own body as a canvas for the abuser’s: staring at Donnachie’s body provided insight into the nail clipping process, the makeup application, and the process of formaldehyde circulating the body.

“The needle becomes real the moment she shows you where it goes into the temple”

I wasn’t expecting (but actually came to appreciate!) the frequent use of movement and dance, choreographed by Christina Fulcher and Sarah Shear, throughout the show. I’ll admit, I’ve never even imagined watching a performance art version of pumping formaldehyde into a dead body or gluing eyes shut during the embalming process. But, as I cringed in my seat from the bluntness of the medical descriptions and reference to needles, the enactment felt strangely beautiful. There was no avoiding it, as Donnachie’s motions transcended her vivid descriptions. The needle becomes real the moment she shows you where it goes into the temple as do the plastic eyecaps as she pulls and squishes her eyes to create those motions. Donnachie poked and prodded at her own body, convulsing alongside her descriptions, creating an intimacy between herself and the audience. In those moments, the inclusive title When We Died became real because the narrator, her abuser, and the audience all feel the intricate embalming process.

Donnachie’s stream-of-consciouness monologues encourage her audience to embody her character’s internal dilemmas. Watching the show in a university city like Cambridge made me wonder about the best ways to be an advocate for and support struggling (from sexual assault and otherwise) friends in my community. When the narrator pushed back against her loved ones, I wanted desperately for them to fight harder for her. The show challenged my preconceived notions about space and boundaries: as the narrator craved support from her metaphorical village, she pushed them away. But, the narrator’s brother shone amongst that village. While not knowing explicitly about the assault, he stuck by the narrator, despite her objections, until she could express what she desired from him.

While When We Died centers on a woman’s experience living through the trauma of sexual harassment, that violence is never explicitly depicted in the show. The show’s storytelling is careful to provide viewers with just enough to know the horrors that the protagonist experienced while simultaneously re-centering the protagonist in her own narrative. The story is hers, not her abuser’s. The title becomes relevant again here, as “death” both encapsulates the abuser’s physical death and the narrator’s spiritual death after her assault.

And I can confirm that the choice not to depict violence did not lessen the production’s impact. Looking around the audience, there were more than a few teary-eyed and make-up-smeared spectators after the performance. Perhaps the narrator’s constant self-doubt and embodied fears (both of her perpetrator and the life that he inflicted on her) struck them in the same way that it did me.

Although I wasn’t crying at curtain call, Donnachie’s performance left me with a plethora of questions to muse over: how to support friends and family through sexual assault or harassment, the long-term mental health and psychological impacts of trauma, and the convoluted notion of “justice” in our ever-changing world.

When We Died is on tour around the UK from the 22nd of March till the 6th of April. Find out more here.