Review: DNA

What’s happened to Alice? Why is she being spoken about in the past tense? And why are the characters talking about her bathed in red light?


DNA, written by Dennis Kelly and directed by Lizzie Milne, opens with a fast-paced duologue in which we learn that Alice is presumed dead as a result of the actions of the group of teenage girls we are introduced to. What follows from this point is an exploration of adolescent friendships, madness, and the cruelty of teenage girls. Whereas Kelly’s script is usually played by a mixed cast, here Milne makes a directorial choice to use an all-female cast, which works very well, the cattiness of the characters adding another layer to the already shocking premise of the play. The play is adapted to allow the exploration of the complexity of female friendship, a theme the cast handles confidently.

As much of the action is set in the thick of a wood, the play presents a challenge to any director, one which Milne solves creatively and effectively by the suspending branches from the ceiling of the theatre. Too, the design team has created a backdrop collage of magazine cuttings typical of a teenage girl’s bedroom. This is reflective of the effectiveness of the aesthetic of the play, which was strong: the colour red permeates the design, in lighting, costume, even food, instantly rooting the audience in the murderous world of the girls. The scene changes were marked by choreographed movement pieces which, whilst they were executed well enough, added little to the play, other than a slick transition between scenes. Perhaps they could be more effective had they changed rather than being repeated movement for movement several times in the play.

As with any ensemble piece there were a range of performances, with some verging on the hysterical, but Carla Van Der Sluijs particularly stood out as an omniscient character, who blocks out everything other than pain and destruction. Her control and disengagement from the world around her was well judged and executed with chilling flair. Milne’s decision to place her on a staging block above the cast added gravitas to her performance, and reminded the audience of the control the character has. Other performers who stand out are the double act of Mara and Jan (Florence Templeton and Danielle Hollreiser respectively) who convincingly bridge the gap between fear and teenage bravado, and Ingrid Lustig who is genuinely creepy in her excitement, characterised by constant fidgeting and smiling, and willingness to carry out acts of violence.

The play is not perfect by any means, and the hysteria of some scenes certainly renders the play as melodrama in places, but it is an interesting exploration of adolescent friendships, and the cruelness of groups of teenagers. The play itself is weak in places, particularly in its descriptions of madness, and the acting is not uniformly strong enough to cover up the holes, but the play is not unenjoyable, rather it is an interesting depiction of the trials and tribulations of teenage life.