London theater this summer: Nordic noir in ‘The Hunt’

Plays (and audiences) routinely cross the pond. Inquirer theater critic Toby Zinman visits London every summer to scout out what to see there, and get a peek at what might come here.

For people who live in the security and much-touted happiness of their democratic welfare states, Scandinavians do seem to murder each other and kill themselves at an alarming rate. Or so says the Nordic noir genre of fiction and film.

The Hunt, a stage adaptation by David Farr from the screenplay by Tobias Lindholm and Thomas Vinterberg, is a terrific and terrifying drama, brilliantly directed by Rupert Goold. There are occasional holes in the script, but Goold’s production seems flawless.

“I’m a bad person. I lied.” This pivotal line is spoken by sweet 6-year-old Clara long after her accusation that her teacher, Lucas (the excellent Tobias Menzies) touched her in sexual ways. Her lie cascades as people in this small town shun him and as other children add their voices to a tiny, Danish #MeToo movement.

It is awful to watch his helplessness and horror as his life disintegrates into sadness and rage.

Central to life in this community is the men’s hunting lodge, where they gather to “perform masculinity” as gender jargon currently has it, with rituals of wild, primitive chanting. The intimacy and intense friendship among the men is palpable — especially between Clara’s father, Gunner (Danny Kirrane) and Lucas.

There is a male savagery here, all in good fun, until it’s not. Imagine, Gunner tells them at a lodge meeting, that all the women are dead: “Bestiality or celibacy: that is the question.” It is deeply chilling, especially if you are a woman. Or, I suppose, a deer.

As trust is corroded, the town’s life grows more and more chaotic and more shocking as this benign contemporary world turns dangerous. The play’s soundscape (Adam Cork) is loud and pounding and accompanied by sensational choreographed movement (Botis Sea).

Central to this production is the marvel of a set (designed by Es Devlin): a little one-room house with a nearly invisible glass door. It contains the entire world of the play, transforming through some amazing lighting effects (Neil Austin) into school, church, lodge, and home.

Otherwise the stage is bare, evoking the inside/outside so crucial to the play’s troubling effects —sometimes Lucas is trapped inside, sometimes he is shut out.

Any world, no matter how open and kind-seeming, turns out to be a world of secrets: “Maybe we’re all just strangers to each other,” as one line has it. The relevance of The Hunt is obvious. Its existential punch is powerful.

Through Aug. 3 at the Almeida Theatre.