Ruckus – A Deeply Affecting Play About Coercive Control, Inevitability and Awareness.

“I don’t think I’ll ever meet anyone who loves me as much as Ryan loves me and hates me as much as Ryan hates me.”

‘Ruckus’, a story about psychological abuse and control, is told through the eyes of the central character ‘Lou’ (Jenna Fincken) and performed as a one-woman play.

Produced by Wildcard Theatre company, Ruckus is an original play that has been brought to the Southwark playhouse after a critically acclaimed run Edinburgh Fringe 2022.

It begins with Lou addressing the audience, asking us to “Just…watch” while she tells us “Everything”. We follow her as she meets Ryan (conveyed through a voice over) and starts a relationship with him. Struggling for money, asked to leave her home by her recently married best friend and enduring continuous disappointments in her career, she does not hesitate for long when Ryan suggests they move in together in a house by the coast.

Throughout this, a projected timer looming above Lou’s head forbids us from being lulled into a feeling of ease. It consistently rewinds, stops, and moves forward, shattering the illusion of linear time. This happens in correlation with interwoven moments where Ryan exhibits behaviours evocative of coercive control – these moments are knots that run along the narrative thread. The knots are subtle, and we as an audience are invited to ‘watch’ – to notice the patterns and intricacies from which they emerge. The time frame shifts when the dynamic shifts – if Ryan is softer with her, if an argument is avoided – but the inevitable event still looms above us.

These often nuanced and intangible moments add to the building tension of the room, creating a sense of inherent discomfort. The tension continues to build as Lou’s world continuously shrinks; she stops seeing her friends, going to work events, seeing her family – even leaving the house. This is echoed in the gradual disappearance of other characters until we are left with a very vulnerable Lou and the increasingly unnerving voiceover of Ryan.

A particularly effecting moment in ‘Ruckus’ is when a game of hide-and-seek with plastic animals becomes increasingly sinister. On a minimalistic stage empty of set and props, these physical objects have huge prevalence. We see that everyday Ryan hides the animals in and around the house while Lou must reach through the ‘walls’ to find them – but then hides them in increasingly unreachable places - a perfect metaphor for the power dynamic in their relationship. We see Lou on her hands and knees, becoming increasingly distressed and erratic. The animals represent a perfect physical manifestation of the mental torment Lou endures from Ryan, and the toxicity dwelling within the walls of their house and their relationship.

Jenna Fincken is dynamic and mesmerising on stage. As she plays multiple roles, each character is distinct and recognisable, and as Lou, each inflection of her voice and twitch of the mouth is so precise – you find yourself with your eyes locked on her as she conveys a character becoming increasingly trapped and abused in a way that is portrayed both sensitivity but with disturbing poignance.

Perhaps the most electric moment of ‘Ruckus’ was when Lou directly questioned the audience, filling the air with a sense of urgency. She demanded of us

“Did. You. See. It?”

Perhaps this is an echo of the voice resounding in Lou’s mind representing voices on the outside; with the implication of ‘how could you have not?’

Or perhaps it is a question posed to herself and for others in Lou’s situation – if she saw it, why couldn’t she free herself?

The play therefore raises more questions than answers- - how easy is coercive control to identify? How can we pre-emptively escape a situation such as the one Lou found herself in? How can we recognise it in others? And what do you do once you have seen?

The title itself is reminiscent of the downplaying or lack of awareness of coercive control – ‘Ruckus’ is a word we commonly use to describe a non-consequential argument that does not suffice to capture the severity and tragedy of the abuse Lou suffered.

It is perhaps easy to feel detached, or to quantify these experiences – which Fincken responds to, stating that we are “numbed” to statistics; “You hear of it all the time through percentages or one in however many women.”

‘Ruckus’ instead re-humanises people’s experiences. It serves to illuminate the reality of coercive control and mental abuse and reaches out like a hand to hold for those who know someone, are someone, or used to be someone in a relationship like Lou’s.

“Did. You. See. It?”

I felt inclined to say ‘yes.’

But did we? Do we?

Will we?

‘Ruckus’ is an important viewing, and beautifully achieved.