THE Belarus Free Theatre is known, and lauded, for making fiercely political productions, often against the country's repressive regime. Previous productions, including “Being Harold Pinter”, which combines texts from Pinter with real-life testimony from Belarusian residents, and Sarah Kane's “4.48 Psychosis”, an exploration of clinical depression, have been banned or forced underground at home. Many of the troupe's performers are denied employment by the National Theatre of Belarus and others have faced imprisonment. When reviewing their show “Zone of Silence” in 2009 the New York Times urged that “they should be seen by everyone who wants confirmation of the continuing relevance and vitality of theatre as an art form.”

And yet Natalia Koliada, the co-founder of the Belarus Free Theatre with her husband Nikolai Khalezin, refutes the theatre's “political” label. On the heels of the company's acclaimed adaptation of “King Lear” at Shakespeare's Globe, she was quick to distinguish between “political theatre” and the notion that theatre can, at times, be political. “I am always against separating, saying there should be political theatre or social theatre or female theatre, or aboriginal theatre—it is about theatre. It is about going deep into one life, like a total immersion in personality, in a different circumstance.” Later, she added, “When we go on stage, we do theatre—it is not about politics. Our dream is just to continue to perform.”

The company's production “Minsk, 2011: A Reply to Kathy Acker” (in Russian with English surtitles) opened at the Young Vic theatre in London yesterday. The play combines the company's distinctive mix of experimental theatre with real-life testimony and biting satire. And although Ms Koliada may argue otherwise, it is deeply political. The show takes its inspiration from Kathy Acker, a late American experimental writer, who Ms Koliada describes as “a punk writer, a very unusual writer [who] gave this absolutely unique approach of talking about the whole of society through the prism of sexuality.” Contrasting the seeming freedom of 1970s New York with the stricter moral values of Alexander Lukashenko's contemporary Belarus, it is a brief exploration of the life of some of Belarus's inhabitants. It tells the stories of a series of lost or exploited individuals—women who work in strip clubs, or men who find themselves arrested for the slightest of political protests.

Running to just over an hour with no interval, “Minsk, 2011” is “one very strong punch”, as Ms Koliada put it. It is unremittingly bleak, with only moments of slapstick humour or wry, dark comedy. Using a limited set—a few chairs, a sliver of red carpet, a microphone, projector and a series of balloons—the 15 cast members flicker between different scenes and characters, the strength of the show relying on their whirlwind choreography. It is effective, but relentlessly so. With little storyline to hold on to, it is easy to become overwhelmed. It feels a shame that this talented theatre company did not have a bit more material, or a longer narrative structure, to work with.