Review by Izzy Tierney
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What would your life be like without hunger? Without ever feeling tiredness or pain? Would it really count as living or would you miss the steady rhythm of your heart beating? These are the kind of questions the Kandinsky Theatre Company ask in their gripping new play, More Life.
When Bridget awakes from a fatal car crash, she finds herself in a synthetic body as some kind of test subject in the year 2075, fifty years since her death. As she grapples with her newfound reality, the dream of living forever begins to crumble into a profit-led illusion. Lauren Mooney's script is thought-provoking, surprisingly funny and genuinely moving at times, with raw, messy, human emotions cutting through the overarching dystopian theme and sci-fi plot. The cast narrating is a clever choice; often being used as a device to forebode and increase tension in the scene, and also as a bit of comedic relief at times that is obviously funny, but also effectively demonstrates the uncertainty of the future as the cast bicker between themselves as to what the year 2075 might look like.
Every actor has fantastic comedic timing, earning laughs from the audience regardless of the nature of the scene. Alison Halstead is excellent as the revived robotic Bridget, staying relatively monotone whilst still managing to convey enough emotion that the audience can connect to her, with moments of anger and outrage feeling wonderfully menacing without a wide range of facial expressions and dead-like eyes. Danusia Samal is the much livelier ghost of Bridget who does a great job at being similar enough to Halstead’s new Bridget that them being the same person is believable, while also showing the stark differences between the two, allowing us to see a glimpse of who Bridget was before, outside of the metal and wires. Samal’s reactions to getting to know her husband, Harry, fifty years older than she remembers him, is at times quite heartbreaking as she realises that the man she loves has changed irrevocably.
Similarly, Tim McMullan's Harry is treated sympathetically by the audience as he tries his best to adjust to the sudden resurrection of his late wife after fifty years, and what that means for his second wife, Davina. Some of the most touching moments come from the two women bonding and learning about each other; Helen Schlesinger's Davina showing great compassion to Halstead's Bridget as she indulges her curiosities and teaches her about the new world she's found herself in, both choosing to be kind to one another in a situation where hostility could have easily presented itself. Schlesinger expertly navigates the emotional turmoil Davina is going through with a hesitant and nuanced approach to a woman battling an unimaginable scenario with all the tenderness she can.
Back in the lab is Marc Elliot’s Victor (yes, think Frankenstein) and Lewis Mackinnon's Mike, the often reluctant subordinate of the gradually more unhinged Victor. They represent the best and worst of a human's ideas, with Victor focused so much on immortality and a scientific breakthrough that any ethical or empathetic responses become virtually nonexistent from him, whereas Mike sees the real human lives they are essentially playing with here, repeatedly choosing to value those over any successful discovery or potential monetary award. Both do a fantastic job in these roles; Elliot showing the madness and desperation seeping into his once much calmer and smarter decision making, whilst Mackinnon's emotional intelligence and sweet smile resonates with the audience as the kind of care and understanding that is fundamental to our humanity, ultimately seeing through the dream of immortality.
The set remains the same throughout, a surprisingly versatile design from Shankho Chaudhuri that works both as a cold lab and a warm home, especially thanks to Ryan Joseph Stafford's incredible lighting which consistently creates the perfect atmosphere in what is an exquisite design and resounding success. The direction from James Yeatman occasionally feels disjointed, with scene changes like Davina's workout scenes (where ‘Freed From Desire’ is suddenly blasted at full volume) feeling a bit unnecessary, but shines in the scenes where both Bridgets are present, moving around the space as they form one person.
There are a few moments in the show that don't quite work, with David Byrne's ‘Glass, Concrete & Stone’ being randomly sung by the synthetic Bridget and the rest of the cast, in what I felt was a strange choice that completely took me out of the narrative. (Almost as perplexing as one David Byrne being from Talking Heads, and one being the Artistic Director of Royal Court Theatre, which I'm embarrassed to say confused me for much longer than it should have, so maybe it's on me for not getting the relevance of the song.)
The relevance of the play, however, is not lost on me. Its unsettling premise cannot be understated, with a troubling ending giving an ominous vision into a possible future we face, where the vulnerabilities vital to our human nature are eradicated in favour of manufactured perfection. The majority of us spend our lives fearing death, but More Life presents a much more terrifying reality - a life without it.
More Life plays at the Royal Court Theatre until March 8th
For tickets and information visit https://royalcourttheatre.com/whats-on/more-life/
Photos by Helen Murray