Three minutes after Luce has started, the audience is already laughing and amazed by the incredible pace of the initial dialogue. Yet fifteen minutes later, the spectators are in a curious struggle to figure out what the plot is really about.

At halfway through the show, everybody has thoughts in their heads about racism, education, parenting, feminism, social networking, (in)justice, politics, terrorism, and I guess much more.

When it ends, it is impossible not to be thrilled by the truthful and powerful performances of these actors, with the genial simplicity of the staging and with the brutality of the text, full of nuances of dark humour and recalling so many important and up-to-date themes.

This is one of those masterpieces that is hard to define by words; it is something that needs to be seen, listened and felt very carefully.

Luce (Martins Imbhangbe), an African kid, was adopted at seven years old by an American couple (Mel Giedroyc and Nigel Whitmey), who made sure the boy would integrate this new society as if he has always belonged there. Apparently, he becomes the perfect teenager. He is intelligent, very good at sports and his grades are some of the best in school. The expectations for the future of this student are massive. The best colleges are interested in meeting him and everybody seems to like him, especially Stephanie (Elizabeth Tan), a girl who dated Luce for a while.

One day, Luce writes an essay for a class that triggers all the drama. It is somehow connected to terrorism, although the audience never knows what exactly was written in the paper. Harriet (Natasha Gordon), the teacher, decides to search Luce’s locker and finds a paper bag full of fireworks. She informs his parents and, from that moment on, a game of concealing and disguising starts. You never know what the truth is.

The chosen approach by Simon Dormandy, the director, is realism. Nevertheless, Brecht’s epic theatre concept is very present, as no-one is trying to convince you that what you are seeing is a piece of reality. There is no way you can forget that you are in a theatre: all the mechanics are visible, the change of scenes happen in a clear and assumed way, the actors change costumes in front of you, and the set is just a table and three chairs (even though the plot takes place in many different spaces). The lighting design by Matthew Evered is impressive and one of the most important elements of this show.

None of the actors have an easy job. First of all, because they are acting in a very intimate black box with three stage fronts, sometimes literally less than 50cm away from the spectators. And let’s not forget about the perfect American accents they must achieve.

As a matter of fact, the actors are spectators themselves: when they go offstage, they actually sit next to the audience and assist with the scenes that follow.

Gordon has the challenge of showing us the hard journey of this woman, who at first seems to be indestructible, with all the power to deal with Luce’s situation. However, she becomes the most fragile character. The actress is amazing, and her subtle process of transformation is dazzling. The way she works with the funny sarcasm of her lines is so mature and thoughtful that you can’t decide whether to love or hate this character.

Giedroyc lives on the edge. She plays the independent, strong and a little bit naïve mum, who is also “ready to kill” whoever contradicts her ideas. There is a sort of animalistic energy when the actress comes closer to you. She’s in total control, but you just don’t know what to expect. Whitmey amazes with his sensibility. He has the superpower of pretending to be gross and tough, whilst at the same time letting you know that, on the inside, this man is falling to pieces.

Imhangbe has a big responsibility, as he needs to constantly leave loose ends in his lines… Not only is Luce convincing his parents and teacher that he is innocent as a terrorist, but also he has to convince you. And does he? You never really find out what his intentions are. One of the most beautiful moments of the play is his remarkable speech about the pressure he feels to be perfect.

Tan is the greatest surprise of the night. She doesn’t have many lines – in fact, she only plays in one scene. The choices for this character are risky, because at a first glance it might seem that the actress’s work is clichéd and superficial. However, when you realise how deep Tan can go with her emotions and how fast she can make you burst into tears, with the complex story of Stephanie, you can’t help feeling like she deserves a standing ovation.

Truth be told, they all do!

Luce is playing at the Southwark Playhouse until 2 April. For more information and tickets, see the Southwark Playhouse website.