The Mask Policy is a bold new dark comedy about ambition, fear, and survival — set in a London adult film company where PERFORMANCE takes on a whole new meaning.
In a London adult production company called Yellowed, newcomer Jade enters what she believes will be her dream job—only to discover a world ruled by power games, silent hierarchies, and invisible masks. Under her boss Crystal’s watchful eye, every smile is rehearsed, every apology is strategic, every gesture a performance.
As Jade learns to play along, she starts to wonder: where does the act end and she begin?
Blending dark comedy and biting social satire, The Mask Policy turns the adult industry into a mirror for every workplace—where ambition, fear, and absurdity intertwine.
Not sex. Just performance.
Because in this world, everyone’s performing.
We caught up with writer and lead producer Tianjiao Tan to learn more about the piece.
What can you tell us about The Mask Policy?
The Mask Policy is a dark comedy about ambition, fear and the instinct to survive. Created by Tianjiao Tan (Writer & Lead Producer), Yi Tang (Director) and Ruoyang Xu (Producer) — a collective of independent theatre-makers based in London — the play takes place inside a London adult film company, a workplace where “performance” means far more than acting in front of a camera.
The Mask Policy is a dark comedy about ambition, fear and the instinct to survive. Created by Tianjiao Tan (Writer & Lead Producer), Yi Tang (Director) and Ruoyang Xu (Producer) — a collective of independent theatre-makers based in London — the play takes place inside a London adult film company, a workplace where “performance” means far more than acting in front of a camera.
The story follows Jade, a newcomer who expects creativity and openness, but quickly discovers a crash course in professional façades: every smile is calculated, every apology has a purpose, and everyone is performing in their own way.
What inspired the creation of this piece?
The inspiration came from the very beginning of my three years working in the adult industry — specifically that first period when I was adjusting to my first full-time job after graduating in the UK.
The inspiration came from the very beginning of my three years working in the adult industry — specifically that first period when I was adjusting to my first full-time job after graduating in the UK.
I’ve always been someone who prefers to be straightforward and to behave like myself, and stepping into the workplace for the first time taught me, quite sharply, that authenticity doesn’t always work in professional environments. That realisation stayed with me far more deeply than I expected.
It wasn’t the explicit nature of the industry that lingered; it was the feeling of having to “perform” in order to fit in, to appear competent, or simply to avoid trouble. That idea — that we soften or hide parts of ourselves to survive at work — became the foundation of The Mask Policy.
Later, I discovered that many of my friends, especially younger ones entering the workforce, were asking themselves the same question: Do we all have to present a version of ourselves at work that isn’t entirely real?
When I realised the conversation was much broader than my own experience, I knew it was something worth exploring onstage.
When I realised the conversation was much broader than my own experience, I knew it was something worth exploring onstage.
As for setting the story within the adult industry, beyond the fact that it comes from my real experience, there was also a small, admittedly rebellious instinct involved. I knew that placing the play in this context would challenge certain assumptions — not for shock value, but because it asks people to look directly at a world many engage with privately yet judge publicly.
Even in the UK, the industry is surrounded by a quiet, polite kind of judgement. I’ve seen the hesitation, the small pauses, the subtle shift in tone when people hear what I used to do. I’ve watched the same security guard treat an adult-industry event with suspicion, and a mainstream arts event with warmth, only months apart. It made me wonder how something so widely consumed can still be treated as something that shouldn’t exist.
So choosing this setting wasn’t about provocation; it was about honesty — and perhaps a gentle refusal to look away.
It allows the industry to stand under the light for a moment, to be seen without judgement, and to serve as a lens through which we can examine the masks we all wear in any workplace.
How do you reflect on your time in the adult industry, and how did it shape you?
Those three years were unlike anything I had experienced before. Once inside the industry, I found it far more human, complex and ordinary than people imagine. Behind the stereotypes, there is professionalism, vulnerability and the full spectrum of human behaviour — just like in any other workplace.
Those three years were unlike anything I had experienced before. Once inside the industry, I found it far more human, complex and ordinary than people imagine. Behind the stereotypes, there is professionalism, vulnerability and the full spectrum of human behaviour — just like in any other workplace.
It taught me that no industry is inherently “higher” or “lower” than another; if something exists, it exists for a reason.
It also made me more open and more willing to speak about subjects that are often avoided. Creatively, it pushed me towards work that is braver and more honest.
Those years shaped both the artist and the person I am today.
What have been the biggest challenges in developing the play?
There were three: balancing the themes, deciding on the ending, and writing comedy across cultures.
I didn’t want the adult industry to become sensational, but I also didn’t want to sanitise the truth. Finding a balance that felt honest yet purposeful took time.
There were three: balancing the themes, deciding on the ending, and writing comedy across cultures.
I didn’t want the adult industry to become sensational, but I also didn’t want to sanitise the truth. Finding a balance that felt honest yet purposeful took time.
The ending is warm and hopeful, something people often see as rare in real life. But those moments do exist, and I wanted the play to hold space for that possibility.
Writing humour for a British audience — especially in multicultural London — required research, testing and constant refinement. Difficult, but joyful.
How did you approach blending the themes within the play?
I approached every theme as part of the same ecosystem, rather than as separate ideas competing for attention. The adult industry, workplace culture, power dynamics and the anxieties of young professionals all orbit one central idea: the mask.
Structurally, the play interweaves two strands: Jade’s direct address to the audience, and the chronological story of her time in the company. Instead of switching between them mechanically, the two layers flow into one another, creating a unified perspective where reflection and present action coexist.
Humour is a key tool. Comedy softens material that could otherwise feel heavy, allowing audiences to encounter discomfort without being overwhelmed. Breaking the fourth wall keeps Jade accessible and emotionally transparent, grounding the more complex themes.
As much of the play is drawn from lived experience, the themes connected naturally without needing to be forced.
Ultimately, everything returns to one guiding question: What do we reveal — and what do we hide — when we choose to wear a mask?
As a Chinese theatre maker in the UK, how do you feel you are viewed within the industry?
It’s difficult to define precisely how I am viewed, partly because I don’t think in those terms. What I can say is that the UK theatre environment has been open, diverse and genuinely welcoming.
It’s difficult to define precisely how I am viewed, partly because I don’t think in those terms. What I can say is that the UK theatre environment has been open, diverse and genuinely welcoming.
I’ve never felt boxed in by my cultural background. Instead, I’ve felt naturally included among a wide range of collaborators. When I first arrived, my English was not strong and I lacked confidence, yet people were extremely encouraging, which helped me realise that language is not the boundary of creativity.
There is also a real effort here to support underrepresented voices, which has made me feel respected and seen.
Independent theatremakers all face similar challenges — regardless of where we come from — and in that sense, we’re all in the same boat.
What was the first piece of theatre that had a big impact on you?
Honestly, it was The Phantom of the Opera.
I discovered musical theatre quite late, and the 25th anniversary concert recording opened an entirely new world to me. The scale, the emotion, the way music and storytelling intertwine — it showed me that theatre can express feelings in ways that go far beyond dialogue.
That moment didn’t just make me love theatre; it made me want to create it. At university, I insisted on directing a student production of Phantom, even though everyone said it was impossible. That experience confirmed my path.
What keeps you inspired?
My inspiration comes from life, but more importantly from how I make sense of life.
My inspiration comes from life, but more importantly from how I make sense of life.
The same event can happen to ten different people, and each of them will tell a completely different story. What makes an artwork unique isn’t the event itself — it’s the creator’s perception, interpretation and emotional logic.
That’s something I hold onto very closely. I don’t try to chase extraordinary experiences; I try to stay sensitive to ordinary ones. A small moment, a brief conversation, an uncomfortable feeling — they can all become meaningful if you’re paying attention.
I also resist staying in a comfort zone. I only live once, and I want my world to stay open and expansive. Many pivotal moments in my creative life came from saying “yes” to something unexpected, including taking the job in the adult industry. If I had chosen safety, this play would not exist.
Everything I experience eventually goes into what I think of as my “creative archive” — an internal library that grows over time. Not everything turns into a story immediately; some things need years to mature. When I revisit them later, they reveal new layers and make me see the world differently.
So what keeps me inspired is a mixture of curiosity, sensitivity, and the belief that it’s not the world that shapes the story — it’s how I understand the world that shapes the story.
So what keeps me inspired is a mixture of curiosity, sensitivity, and the belief that it’s not the world that shapes the story — it’s how I understand the world that shapes the story.
What would you hope audiences take away from the show?
Above all, I hope they leave with a smile. If the play can offer humour, warmth and connection, that already feels meaningful.
Above all, I hope they leave with a smile. If the play can offer humour, warmth and connection, that already feels meaningful.
I don’t want to tell the audience how they should feel, but if there’s one idea I hope they take away, it’s this: The world doesn’t only operate in one way.
We’re often taught to wear masks, to perform, to comply — but sometimes stepping outside those expectations doesn’t lead to disaster.
The ending is hopeful. It may feel idealistic to some, but those moments do exist in real life. If people leave the theatre feeling even a little more able to be themselves, then the play has done its job.
Where can people see The Mask Policy?
Hen & Chickens Theatre 109 St Paul’s Road, London N1 2NA
Performances:
● 5 December — 3:30pm (Matinee)
● 7 December — 3:30pm (Matinee)
● 8 December — 7:30pm (Evening)
Hen & Chickens Theatre 109 St Paul’s Road, London N1 2NA
Performances:
● 5 December — 3:30pm (Matinee)
● 7 December — 3:30pm (Matinee)
● 8 December — 7:30pm (Evening)
Running time: 90 minutes (no interval)
Tickets are available from https://www.unrestrictedview.co.uk/events/the-mask-policy/
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