Leglock ★★★★

The piece opens mid-bout, James locked in combat with a seemingly invincible opponent. Victory comes not through brute force but through cunning, and because his rival refuses to submit, James is forced to inflict more and more punishment. Eventually he hears a “terrible wet sound”; his opponent is struggling to breathe through a smashed, blood-filled nose.

After the fight, James reflects on the violence required in his sport. Violence isn’t the point, he claims. Rather, it’s the possibility of seeing a dream through, to make something — anything — happen. Violence just happens to be his pathway to a brighter future, one unavailable to him the traditional way.

“School is one of the biggest scams going,” he asserts. Absolutely miserable in secondary school, he feels a “lonely ache of sadness” that his father — and pretty much everyone else — mistakes for anger. “Lots of young men are angry,” admits his dad.

Realising that friends, teachers, and loved ones would rather confront his anger than his sorrow, James agrees to start going to the gym. There he discovers something he’s good at. As his body strengthens and his fight skills sharpen, a career plan forms, one that might one day earn him a passport and a ticket to America.

Thanks to Uttley’s terrific performance and Mathis’s tight, empathetic script, Leglock is compelling for all of its 50 minutes. And for once, a rare request: more, please. Go longer, deeper, further. And do it with Uttley. He’s perfect in this part — believable as a lethal weapon in the cage and warmly relatable outside it. With further development, Leglock feels destined not just to win, but to be a champion.