Mandala Theatre, founded in 2015, is a multiethnic working class youth theatre which seeks to liberate the stage as a tool for exploring and engaging the issues of concern to young people, empowering both actors and audience in the process. It is an ambitious brief, but one which the group has consistently lived up to.

Machinal, written by the journalist and playwright Sophie Treadwell almost one hundred years ago, was considered at the time to be one of the highpoints of Expressionist theatre. Expressionism combines intense emotion with social critique, both of which are in full effect in Mandala’s breathtaking performance tonight.

The show opens with a taste of both the themes and the style of the play as seven besuited youngsters take to the stage in a robotic dance to a techno-infused breakbeat, interacting more with their phones than each other, often with a touch of despair. Knowing nothing of the play’s origins at this point, I wonder if it is going to be a critique of technology’s intrusion into our lives.

In fact, the play follows the dilemmas and double binds facing an oppressed young woman who enters into a loveless marriage. Ostensibly doing so of her own volition, her decision is clearly induced by intense social pressure, especially as she feels that to reject the hand of a wealthy man would be financially irresponsible given her responsibilities towards her mother.

The abusive nature of the relationship soon becomes clear, and the commonality of the experience is highlighted by its being replicated amongst three different couples on stage at the same time.

Indeed, the main character is herself played by three different women, a device that not only illustrates the universality of the story, but also serves to highlight different aspects of her character. It is an ambitious move that could be confusing, but in the skilful hands of this cast, feels entirely natural.

The prevalent atmosphere of male entitlement to women’s bodies is sensitively but forcefully portrayed with scenes on public transport and in the office, where it is all normalised and made a matter of gossip and titillation, as well as in the dynamic in the hospital with the male doctors in charge of childbirth.

All three actors playing the lead expertly combine verve, pain, and determination in the portrayal of their character. They manage to convincingly convey the fear she feels, but always with a determination behind it, a refusal to accept things have to be this way, and a curiosity as to how they could change. It is impressive but also disconcerting how strongly the young actors clearly resonate with the themes of the play, which do not seem to have lost much of their potency with the passing of a century. It makes me wonder whether the mobile phones in the play’s opening scene are a subtle pointer to the way in which social media is increasingly the conduit for new forms of societal pressure and expectation, perhaps even eclipsing the role played by family and work colleagues at the time of the original play.

At the play’s end, the pertinence of the issues raised - as well as the determination to address them - is made clear by the naming of modern day women who have suffered from or challenged ongoing patriarchal oppression. The shocking ending is made even more so when it is revealed, in the Q and A following the performance, that the play was based on a true story, of Ruth Snyder.

A very impressive performance, with some incredible choreography and sublime acting, Mandala demonstrate that theatre remains an invaluable tool of consciousness-raising, showing that what appear to be individual problems are often shared and systematic - and can be challenged collectively. A transformative piece of work.