Theatre

FROM the mouth of Lord Keith to the Glasgow Arts Centre actors' lab,

rape is on show. But I would rather have watched their Lordships debate

the illegalities of domestic rape, than watch this play by playwright

William Mastrosimone.

A rapist attacks Marjorie in her home. She sprays insecticide into his

eyes, ties him up, and bundles him into the empty fireplace. Her

flatmates arrive. Both are women and both express horror not at

Marjorie's grief, but at her tactical defence. The rapist wins the

sympathy of one who tries to feed, nurse, and free him from the

fireplace, the other doesn't understand why Marjorie has been moved to

violence. ''There's a man in here, he's tied up, he's injured'' a

character laments ''what does this mean?'' Beats the hell out of me.

Could it be that Marj has a penchant for bondage? or that perhaps she

wants revenge?

Psychological thriller this is not. Moved by the sight of the blooded

intruder Marjorie's flatmates refuse to believe her story. Only when she

threatens to cut off the rapist's delicate vegetables does he confess

and finally win the contempt of the girlies. Rape is not an

entertainment. It must be woven into the moral fabric of a script if

used at all, and then hammered. This is not the best dramatic treatment

of rape ever seen. Intelligent people may find it rather draining.