Manhunt

Spotted prowling like a caged animal, tracked by CCTV, our supposed anti-hero Raoul Moat is menacing with his cheekbones, smooth rippling body, and eye-popping stare.

Samuel Edward-Cook, face set like suet, as Moat exudes lone wolf charisma as he skulks around, with a sawn-off shotgun. In a production that’s impossible to shake off afterwards.

A Facebook page dedicated to him has 35,000 members who praised “Moaty” online. I suppose it was a precursor to the kind of conspiracy theories that now plague social media.

For some people, he was clearly a hero for his survivalist evasion of the police; that is the scariest thing of all.

A small ensemble play multiple roles, and two child actors—playing Moat’s daughter and younger self—provide a poignant contrast to Edward-Cook’s aggression.

In July 2010, Moat escaped Durham prison, convicted of assaulting a child. He shot his ex-partner, survived, and killed her boyfriend. Everything is always someone else’s fault.

Moat sought refuge with friends near Rothbury, a childhood retreat. They returned to Newcastle, where Moat fatally shot and blinded officer David Rathband, who committed suicide.

Anyway. The police discovered their hideout four days later. The accomplices were sentenced, and Moat fled into the woods.

The action hinges on Moat, surrounded by the police, refusing to surrender, asserting his refusal to be released. Unlicensed tasers failed to subdue him, and he took his own life.

It makes for relentlessly sad viewing.

A revealing scene features footballer Paul Gascoigne (Trevor Fox) sharing his feelings of inadequacy and despair about masculinity with Moat. Gascoigne arrived during the standoff, and their fictional conversation provided Moat with the therapeutic exchange he needed.

Writer-director Robert Icke presents a courtroom drama based on Moat’s testimony. And much of the material was provided by Moat’s extraordinary 49-page letter that declared war on the police.

A harrowing black-out section recounts Rathband’s experience; Icke’s direction here masterfully harnesses the stark power of light and dark to heighten the effect.

Here, though, Moat is portrayed as a victim of his own sense of victimhood, not just circumstance.

Masculinity here is so often entwined with the physical — strength, power, muscularity — as if the body alone could define the man.

Hildegard Bechtler’s metallic set design transforms the space into a cold prison.

Later, a wilderness.

So tense that it almost requires you to hold your breath the entire way through.

Icke hovers between violence and vulnerability, questioning Moat’s version of events amidst contradictions. He embraces the surreal texture, where McFlurries and campfire sausages coexist with masculinity and trauma. Though not always effective, his approach cuts deep.

In our current era of misogyny and male mental health crisis, this portrayal serves as a poignant reminder of where we are.

Is this hero-worshipping a violent criminal?

I don’t think so. I came away thinking it was ruthlessly challenging the audience to address issues, themes, and perspectives they may not previously have considered.

But was the writing good enough?

Not really. But it reminded us of the people who really matter: Moat’s victims.

Icke’s thought-provoking— occasionally nerve shredding— production feels like a promising first draft, still very much in need of dramaturgical support to sharpen and provide focus.

Alas, some ethical considerations and questions aren’t easily answered.

We see a young Raoul Moat navigate an absent father, a bipolar mother, and an unstable childhood. Great drama mirrors society—but in Manhunt, the reflection staring back is nothing short of terrifying.

It is to the credit of The Royal Court, producer Sonia Friedman, and writer Icke that the play makes sound points without tipping into sensationalism.

Following Stephen Graham and Jack Thorne’s TV drama Adolescence, there’s little linking it to Manhunt beyond the Northern setting and flashes of male rage.

But there is one striking similarity.

Neither offers straight, white, working-class boys anything beyond the role of thug or bully.

Nor, for that matter, does much of mainstream TV.

This is the one demographic it’s still perfectly acceptable to vilify, stereotype, patronise — and write off as irredeemably toxic.

Yet somehow, the same industry that clearly holds them in contempt spends its time wringing its hands, baffled at gen Z yearning for a ‘strong leader’, children being swept up in riots, or the attraction to poisonous online charlatans like Andrew Tate.

Yeah, I wonder.

At the Royal Court, London, until 3 May.

In the UK and Ireland, Samaritans can be contacted on freephone 116 123, or email jo@samaritans.org or jo@samaritans.ie. In the US, you can call or text the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline on 988, chat on 988lifeline.org, or text HOME to 741741 to connect with a crisis counselor. In Australia, the crisis support service Lifeline is 13 11 14. Other international helplines can be found at befrienders.org