“Right at this moment, I don’t care if they kill me. I don’t care. But they’re not going to kill my stories. They’re not going to kill my stories. They’re all I’ve got.”

Eastern Europe, circa 1980. Katurian, a writer of macabre children’s stories, is dragged into a police interrogation. A string of crimes, reminiscent of his bizarre stories, has been uncovered. Did he commit them as inspiration for his work? Has someone else engaged in copycat behaviour? If the latter, does he not, as the writer, share at least some of the responsibility for these crimes? With the clock ticking to his imminent execution, how can Katurian convince the secret police that all he does is write stories?

Oscar-winning screenwriter Martin McDonagh (In Bruges, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, The Banshees of Inisherin) astonishes once more with a play that takes us into a dark fairytale world in the best traditions of the Brothers Grimm. The Pillowman has been described as “thoroughly startling and genuinely intimidating” and The New York Times wrote, “Sometimes you don’t know what you have been craving until the real thing comes along.”