Opening with a simple “Hello” from central performer Tom, Dusk begins with a series of introductions from the cast, instantly removing the expected façade of theatre. There are also no backdrops; instead, the full depth of the stage is visible, as if the theatre itself is almost incidental. Tom then takes a directing role and informs that we are about to see a performance based on Lars Von Trier’s film Dogville. The others on stage are keen to let us know, though, that this was a collective effort, before Tom ‘chooses’ a volunteer from the Lyceum audience to help play the role of The Other (as played by Nicole Kidman in the film version). And so the main show commences.

Tom tells us what the show sets out to explore – the concept of The Other, responsibility, and how we treat one another in society – and that everything onstage will also be filmed and projected onto a huge screen for us to see (along with English subtitles since the play will be performed in French). Once audience member Grace is chosen, Tom begins the filming process and a magnetic effect is created. As we watch both versions of what is happening (on screen and on stage) it only becomes apparent that the film is a pre-shot illusion when one character, Charlie, remains lying on a bed on screen while in person he wanders off, much to the irritation of Tom. Later, other disparities become clear – extra characters and phantom children.

What happens very quickly is that as the characters play out their roles and show us their imaginary community, Grace begins to create conflict – not deliberately or directly, but through the way her presence provokes existing members to alter their behaviours, see things differently, and speak out. Of course, audience members familiar with Dogville will know what is coming, but even if we haven’t seen the film, Grace’s alienation feels inevitable – Tom literally tells us at the beginning what themes we’re dealing with. It means that there isn’t much surprise awaiting us.

Visually and conceptually, Dusk is fascinating. The merging of mediums, which director Christiane Jatahy is known for working with, is cleverly intriguing and the actors’ synchronisation is meticulous. Every movement and line of dialogue is performed onstage in perfect tandem with the scenes on screen. This, maintained among the cast for the entirety of the show, is a hypnotic feat.

However, as the depressing final act approaches, these technical features don’t always help illuminate the text. There is an interesting question being raised about different versions of truth and how truly things are compared to how we perceive them to be. Grace’s alienation becomes relentless, though, and the final 15 minutes of rape and mental breakdown don’t seem necessary. It leaves us impressed and provoked but not necessarily with clarity.