DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“a bold and fresh idea”

Set in a near future Britain where advertising is king, and data harvesting unnervingly personalised, love prevails against all algorithmic probabilities. Multiple stories, multiple romances, all entangled within this technological dystopia. A tech entrepreneur falls in love with a poet, an app user is branded unlovable, and an astronaut remembers her wife. These stories link through one moment that questions the true nature of connection.

Written and performed by David Head, this show sparkles in its lampooning of consumer culture and advertising. The narrative tone borders on observational stand-up, from commenting on dating apps, to shared workspaces, to accepting cookies online. It’s sharp, and on point.

The show is a multimedia feast. As the story evolves, it is interrupted by advertisements, transported to the world of TED talks and immersed in the in-app design of ‘Q-Pid’ the latest dating app craze. These projected videos, by Joseph Peecock (lead video design) and Katya Shipulina (advert video design) perfectly capture the tone and style of contemporary advertising. They feel disconcertingly real. This is amplified by Liz Mcleod’s graphic design. While perhaps a little overused, these clips are witty and expertly rendered.

While Head’s writing is undeniably well-crafted, with each joke snappily landing, the story is slightly disjointed. It takes place across different timelines, perspectives, and at one point – different planets. While it comes together in a neat conclusion, there are moments that might’ve been pared back.

Laura Killeen’s direction uses careful blocking to denote character, with different stories unfolding in different areas of the stage. While this helps to clarify the multiple story strands, when added to the multi-media elements, it leaves the overall flow feeling choppy.

The emotional crux of the play is a moving storyline involving an aging interplanetary miner yearning to hear her wife’s voice one last time. For this portion the narrative style feels distancing, made more so by the use of a mostly static puppet. This should provide a striking visual moment, especially with the addition of revolving torchlight and glimmering ‘stars’ from lighting consultant Amy Daniels. But it lacks the desired poignant punch. At this point Head’s performance style stilts the potential for the concept, which is a shame, because it could be deeply moving.

As the piece develops, the tone shifts towards a hopeful note, with Jessica Munna playing an on-screen AI bot turned poet. In its sincerity, the energy of the show droops a little, and I found myself missing the gloomy wit of the beginning. The play never quite untangles its bleak dystopia, and the inspirational message feels a little hollow after the accuracy of the earlier satire.

It’s a bold and fresh idea, which pokes fun at oddities of the internet age while allowing a for a glimmer of hope in dark times.