Maryland — Lucy Kirkwood’s mordant play adapted into an arresting short film

“What fresh hell do you need before you are as angry as we are?” demands a chorus of women in Maryland, a new short film that seeks to jolt society from its violent indifference towards the continued abuse and assaults suffered by women at the hands of men.

Part war cry, part anguished lament, the half-hour piece was written by the dramatist Lucy Kirkwood in two days last autumn as a response to the murders of Londoners Sabina Nessa and Sarah Everard. Originally staged at the Royal Court Theatre, the production was spontaneous and performed script-in-hand — dramatic immersion sacrificed for directness.

Maryland has lost none of this urgency in this arresting BBC adaptation. The story it tells is one that unfolds every day, as if inexorably, in ordinary homes and unremarkable streets. It starts with Mary (Hayley Squires), walking alone at dusk — her keys poking through her closed fist — on the way to buy a can of soda. The image cuts to black. The next shot finds her packing up her clothes in a bag and being picked up by a police officer. “Rape” is never once mentioned here — the blank screen (accompanied by a screeching, atonal noise) conveying more of the all-enveloping horror than a word to which we may have become numbed.

At the station, Mary sits next to another woman, a namesake (Zawe Ashton), who endured a similar attack. “I know you’re going to want to chat about it,” the cop (Daniel Mays) says in a glib turn of phrase that reduces the life-altering ordeal to idle gossip. Both are then taken for further questioning and to have their bruises photographed. That all this takes place in a dark interrogation room tacitly addresses how frequently it’s suggested that victims share culpability with their assailant.

“I suppose it was a bit stupid [to go out] that time of night,” one of the Marys says, heartbreakingly, to the other, as they begin to share what happened. Their conversation stumbles and trails off but the immense effort required to keep from falling apart is articulated through the actors’ non-verbal eloquence. Yet Kirkwood doesn’t ease up on us by having the women find comfort, solace or closure in talking. Instead she doubles down with a devastating turn that confronts us with that awful void again.

While Maryland harnesses the power of implication to great effect, it also knows how to deliver hard, blunt truths. The events of the “story” are witnessed by an extra-narrative group — a modern take on both the Greek chorus and the mythological Furies — who interject with the everyday experiences and considerations of women, from being intimidated in the park to researching what to do if abducted, or fearing what the police might do to them (if they don’t ignore them altogether).

These observations eventually lead into a crescendo of punchy, mordant parting thoughts that tear at the conscience and linger in the mind. “How is it possible that we can get two billionaires to space safely but a woman cannot walk five minutes from her house without being . . .?” The question is absolutely not a rhetorical one.

★★★★☆

From July 20 at 10.05pm on BBC2 and on iPlayer