In an oddly simplistic portrayal of sexual-assault survival, Lie Low infantilises its protagonist, Faye, who is hellbent on recovery via exposure therapy. Enlisting the help of a distant brother, Naoise, Faye seeks to rid herself of the insomnia caused by an attack in her own home. The play pushes boundaries, skirting around themes of incest as a discomforting sexual tension between these siblings brews throughout. 

In trying to find a comedic route through one of the least amusing subjects imaginable, writer Ciara Elizabeth Smyth makes light of Faye’s inability to remember the events of that terrible night through clunky dialogue sandwiched between duck-masked dancing routines. Moments of laughter are cut short by the realisation of who (and what) we are laughing at. 

The play’s most compelling part arrives at the end, when Faye offloads to a make-believe therapist. While still reminding us of this rather patronising characterisation, the suggestion that patients tell their therapists what they want to hear (and vice versa) has a lot of potential. These monologues could have been furthered for the comical ends Lie Low was searching for. 

Lie Low, Traverse Theatre, until 27 August, times vary.