Saw, Seven and Britain's Got Talent – how would you like to be in a real-life slasher?

Sep 11

3 min read

SINS, at the Albany Theatre, Coventry - 10 September 2026

Review by Amanda Burden

Two questions.

1. Do you like the slasher film Saw?

2. Do you want to be IN the slasher film Saw?

Be honest. Nobody is going to knock on your door. This is not a hidden psychological test designed to root out homicidal maniacs. No-one will check your browser history afterwards.

But if you harbour a small, private fantasy about sitting safely in the dark while other people endure increasingly horrible things, I have the perfect night out for you, courtesy of the Disruptive Theatre company.

SINS, at the Albany Theatre, is immersive action with a decidedly dark twist.

If you've never seen Saw, the basic plot is this: strangers wake up chained to pipes in a filthy, dilapidated house, accompanied by a body. They discover that they are pawns in one of the Jigsaw killer's elaborate games, and that their survival depends on following a set of increasingly horrifying rules.

SINS takes that horrible premise and asks: What if YOU got to decide who lives and who dies?

We are introduced to seven flawed people, each representing one of the deadly sins: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, pride and envy. At this point Saw meets Seven, the Brad Pitt 90s classic where a murderer targets perpetrators of the universal vices.

A sinister hockey-masked host, introduced only as The Examiner, sets out the rules. We watch. We judge. Then we vote. At THIS point Saw and Seven meet Britain's Got Talent, the ultimate horror-as-entertainment trip. And that's just Simon Cowell's trousers.

The clever bit is that your vote is made on your phone anonymously. Nobody sitting next to you knows what you chose. Which is excellent news if your moral compass starts spinning faster than Boris Johnson at a select committee.

There is something fascinating about being given the power to make a decision when nobody can see you making it.

Would you forgive someone?

Would you punish them?

Would you give them another chance?

Or would you press the button marked absolutely not, this person is clearly going to hell?

You can tell yourself that you are simply playing along... but then the stories begin.

Through cleverly constructed “genuine” footage, we see the backstories of each character: where they came from, what happened to them and, crucially, how they ended up bound and gagged, awaiting our verdict.

The personal touch changes EVERYTHING. Suddenly they aren't simply sinners. They're real people, with lives and families. Saw, Seven and Britain's Got Talent now welcome Black Mirror. Pull up a chair, show. Make yourself comfy.

The theatrical trick is clever. We begin with abstract archetypes - Lust! Greed! Wrath! - which are easy to judge. Then the production drip-feeds enough of their history to make judgement less comfortable. Like a magic eye picture snapping into focus, we recognise our friends, our loved ones, and ourselves.

That's where SINS becomes less of a horror-themed escape room, and more of a morality play where the stakes are real lives.

The masked presenter nudges us towards the darkest corners of our own psychology. What can we forgive? What makes us angry? How much cruelty is justified if we believe someone deserves it? And, most uncomfortably of all, how easy is it to turn someone else into a monster?

The origin story for the presenter himself, saved until last, is powerful and poignant. Beneath the mask is a tragedy, which blurs the line between victim and perpetrator until it is no longer discernible. The monster wasn't born a monster. It's created from life, pain, anger and circumstances.

And if that's true, how many terrible people began life as ordinary folk who were simply pushed too far? And how many people, when no-one is watching, would choose compassion over revenge?

A lovely thought for the drive home, especially in these turbulent times. If SINS taught me anything, it's that everyone who is hoping that the best of humanity might prevail against the kneejerk of cruelty, we might want to think again. And prepare to welcome Simon Cowell as our glorious leader.