I had not come across this play before, even though apparently it is quite well known in the UK The plot reminded me of a Shakespearean comedy, where the author decided to substitute the happily ever after with a gore-fest. But because of the speed at which some themes evolved, or occurred rather, there was insufficient depth to the characters’ motivation. So no matter the number of dead bodies it simply did not feel like a tragedy and in fact, the first half felt very much like a comedy, with more laughs than gasps.

But as the few modernised references, including to rohypnol, draw out the parallel to the present day, it becomes clear quite quickly that interpreting the story from today’s perspective makes it no laughing matter. The way this play was put to stage, made it not so much a tale of jealousy and revenge, but that of misogyny. The overwhelming, overbearing misogyny that everyone has a duty to stand up against – because whilst it may start with inappropriate jokes, it too often ends in tragedy.

The casting of an actress with achondroplasia in the lead role emphasises the physical vulnerability of women. As her twin asserts himself over her, the threat of sexual violence looms tall; as the madmen surround her, they appear even more threatening, even more menacing because of her diminutive stature; as she is being murdered, her fragility is in stark contrast to the brute force of her captors. As the lights went out and the Duchess was handed the dismembered arm, I could not help but wonder what happened when the CCTV was turned off at those police stations.

The small stage also contributes greatly to the experience. Lit only by candles and intimate, you watch the scenes unfold as if you were participating in a form of voyeurism, observing an abusive relationship. The violence slowly but surely evolves from the verbal to the corporeal. It is almost impossible not to react physically to what is happening only an arm’s stretch away and you witness someone’s whole, small world falling apart.

Whilst I found the text projected onto the walls somewhat distracting, the sign language interpreter embedded into the scenes was extremely powerful. As a fully hearing person, I watched the emotion permeating from her hands and saw the unheard screams of silenced women, fighting for their right to be safe, fighting to be heard. Four centuries may have passed, but the fight goes on.