EdFringe Review: CODE

The mechanics of youth exploitation thrive on blind eyes ignoring social horrors being perpetrated in plain sight. In CODE, physical theatre company Justice in Motion tackles the grim realities of county lines drug trafficking and knife crime.

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Spearheaded by artistic director Anja Meinhardt, the production transforms complex socio-economic tragedy into a high-octane blend of movement and music. Set at Pleasance Grassmarket, Celia Perkins’s split-level design creates a concrete-and-graffiti playground of scaffolding and skatepark ramps. Through this arena, the ensemble vaults and manoeuvres, shifting fluidly between schoolyards, nightclubs, and estate stairwells.

At the heart of the story is the insidious process of youth grooming. In the performance I reviewed, Ishmael Khan portrays gang operator JP with a dangerously charming authority. He targets Nicky, played with heartbreaking vulnerability by a superb Sylvia Mae Gray. Pushed to the margins by school bullies, Gray’s Nicky seeks safety and acceptance. Khan’s JP exploits this weakness not with threats, but with false sanctuary. He offers casual cash, easy protection, and simple errands that mimic genuine trust. Once dependency is established, the trap snaps shut through manufactured debt and violence.

This shift manifests physically when Gray is literally tethered to Khan on stage, and pulled away from her support network. Surrounding them, gang members circle on BMX bikes, whilst others parkour about the space like predatory dogs, using momentum to enclose their target. This is full-bodied theatre in every respect.

Dynamic Casting and Precision Stunts

Interestingly, every lead role in the production is double-cast, with the central lead even alternating between female and male performers. This rotating structure gives each show a distinct, live-wire freshness—an unpredictability mirroring the spiralling chaos greeting vulnerable youth lured into county lines networks.

Guiding the audience through this maze was Jacob Dale, acting as both schoolteacher and live rapping narrator. Dale is first-rate, commanding the stage with effortless legitimacy. His rhythmic delivery articulates the unwritten codes and pressures driving street culture. Matching his verbal sharpness is the breathtaking stunt work overseen by bike choreographer Andrei Burton. Burton integrates high-risk manoeuvres directly into the narrative fabric. Scaffolding jumps occur inches from the front row, turning extreme sports into authentic theatrical expression. The danger in CODE isn’t abstract in the slightest.

Perkins’s design isn’t just about spectacle, however. A clever use of a corrugated plastic screen to overlay cutaway scenes allows Nicky and their mum to revisit past traumas, helping to drive their current predicament.

If the production stumbles anywhere, it is in its textual delivery. The script occasionally spells out its moral conclusions with a clarity that borders on didacticism. Yet any narrative heavy-handedness is swept aside by the sheer velocity and sincerity of the performance. CODE achieves something genuinely rare at the Fringe: an educational show that functions as vital, exhilarating theatre. There were multiple school groups in the stalls when I sat in, and every single student paid rapt attention from start to finish.

By combining sobering realities with Burton’s stunt craft and Meinhardt’s direction, Justice in Motion delivers an urgent, gripping production. It demands to be seen by young audiences, families, and policymakers alike. It also promises hope, not just that the exploited can find a life afterwards, but that social change is possible if people pay attention.

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