The Powerhouse, Brisbane In the new production from Dublin’s Theatreclub, five volunteer men are called on for a confronting but inconclusive examination of the sex industry

As you walk in to the theatre, you’re handed the rules to The Game.

“You may leave at any point,” the sheet of paper reads. “If any one else wants to leave they may have to move past you ... If you feel affected by any of the scenes you see tonight, these [phone] numbers might help.”

The concept of the “trigger warning” may be inching towards overuse, but as the lo-fi production came to its violent close in Brisbane – leaving a blood- and semen-covered bed in its wake – the shellshocked audience was left acutely aware of its value.

Created in 2015 by Grace Dyas of Dublin-based Theatreclub, in collaboration with performers Lauren Larkin and Gemma Collins as well as current and former sex workers, The Game calls on five volunteer men each night to help tell the true stories of six women who sell, or sold, their bodies for sex.

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In doing so, it presents a demanding, confronting and ultimately inconclusive exploration of the best way forward for a contentious industry, which to one person is “prostitution” and to another is “sex work”; to one person is exploitative, and to another is empowering.



As the show begins, both sides of this debate – played by Collins and Larkin – yell at each other from across the stage. Tense, dramatic music builds.

“I survived prostitution. Listen to me. I feel empty, I feel nothing, I am no longer for sale,” says one.

“The problem is not where you think the problem is,” says the other. “I am here to be bought. I have my agency. Empowered.”

“Exploited! … Listen to survivors.”

“Listen to sex workers!”

The relationship between the sex trade, human rights and the law is globally contested. In the Netherlands, sex work is legal and regulated; under the Nordic model in Sweden, it’s illegal for the buyer but not the seller; and in Australia and the UK, where this production has also been staged, its legal status varies depending on where you are – with enormous consequences for the women (and it’s mostly women) who are selling their bodies, or having their bodies sold.

In May, Amnesty International formally adopted a policy calling for the full decriminalisation of sex work, with an aim to protect workers from exploitation and harm. But a year earlier, women’s rights campaigners and celebrities including Lena Dunham, Meryl Streep and Emma Thompson split with some sex workers who supported the policy and signed a Change.org petition against it. They argued decriminalisation would “advocate the legalisation of pimping, brothel owning and sex buying” and “side with ... the exploiters”.

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So should sex work be legal, so that it can be regulated? (For sole operators and licensed brothels in Queensland, where this play was performed, it is.) Should it be criminalised under the Nordic model, which makes the buyer culpable but could force it underground? Or should it be eliminated altogether?

Drawn from the true stories of former and current sex workers including Mia de Faoite and Rachel Moran, who have both campaigned for the Nordic model, The Game aims to be balanced – but it’s fairly easy to ascertain which side the creators are on. The most memorable scenes are the most graphic ones – re-enactments of abuse, rape and forced prostitution – which overpower the sex work success stories, and leave the room reeling. Put together, we’re presented with an industry that either needs to be completely reinvented, or abolished altogether.

It’s a huge problem to tackle in 90 minutes, but with simple staging, a dense but whip-smart script, and outstanding performances from Collins and Larkin – sensitive, generous and strong, managing to somehow inject moments of levity amid the horror – The Game manages to cover all corners without feeling laboured.

The two women aren’t the only ones on stage. Five volunteer men, a different group each performance, answered a callout weeks in advance “to be part of something that redresses misogyny”.

These nervous men sit at the back of a stage behind a white bed, ready to stand in for the male clients, pimps, partners and rapists involved in the stories. Collins and Larkin feed the men lines and actions that none look comfortable performing: verbal abuse; sex with a minor; physical violence; gang rape.

The roles these men re-enact have been determined by chance, and they have no idea what’s going to happen. It adds another layer of tension to the production but, as we’re shown time and time again, they are being looked after.

The volunteer actors are counselled before and after each production, with a touring therapeutic supervisor on standby. They have been given a place to look at the back of the theatre if they need to avert their eyes. They have been taught lines to say if they get too uncomfortable (“I am not enjoying this, but I’ll pretend to enjoy it,” reads one, an echo of a sex worker’s inner world; “This is not happening to me, it is happening to someone else,” reads another). And if it gets too much, they can simply leave the stage, or tag another man in.

Each time they tag out – and on opening night, almost all do at some point – we are reminded that leaving these scenes is a privilege. It may be “only an hour” for the audience, the performers and the men, but women like de Faute and Moran – whose stories unfold in a mounting torrent of trauma – couldn’t just leave when they wanted to.

• The Game was part of Brisbane festival 2016, which continues until 24 September. Guardian Australia was a guest of Brisbane festival