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.

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 13th November 2024

by Auriol Reddaway

Photography by Max Caine

Previously reviewed at this venue:

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE | ★★★★★ | November 2024

THE BAND BACK TOGETHER | ★★★★ | September 2024

MR PUNCH AT THE OPERA | ★★★ | August 2024

FABULOUS CREATURES | ★★★ | May 2024

THE BOOK OF GRACE | ★★★★★ | May 2024

LIFE WITH OSCAR | ★★★ | April 2024

WHEN YOU PASS OVER MY TOMB | ★★★★★ | February 2024

SPUTNIK SWEETHEART | ★★★ | October 2023

GENTLEMEN | ★★★★ | October 2023

THE BRIEF LIFE & MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF BORIS III, KING OF BULGARIA | ★★★★★ | September 2023

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE

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★★★½

“grazes idly and widely on ideas it can never properly explore”

There’s something wrong with Ryan. You can tell by his haunted expression, his furious contempt and his presence at A&E. He’s having a bad night.

There’s an empty box on the form where he can write in his symptoms but, better still, why not tell us, take us right back to the beginning, or at least the beginning of the end.

The point being: he can’t wait to leave. A&E, London, which he hates, and his current life, which he hates even more.

Teenager Ryan is living a life on the margins. Cheap flat, cheap booze, cheap encounters, always poor, cadging off mates and strangers.

He’s not a Londoner by birth or inclination but his big brother Ben told him that, if he wanted to make it rich, he had to come to the capital. But Ben is an accountant, doing well for himself, with a set of boarish colleagues and an influencer girlfriend. Any minute now they’ll be settling down, having babies, hashtag living their best life, which seems to bother Ryan more than it should.

Ryan is living a very recognisable London life. He has two GCSEs so he cycles for Deliveroo, and work is interspersed with empty encounters thanks to Grindr and his good looks. He lives in Hounslow with three flatmates where he occupies his time having rainbow hangovers. Everything’s not quite right and now the 19-year-old is on the radar of predatory Richard who fancies some young flesh.

Ryan isn’t that bothered about Richard but he’s less bothered about himself so it all evens out in the end.

Zach Hawkins, who plays the raw and rudderless Ryan, is blessed with an open face and a blank expression on which to layer these experiences. He has the stage solo for 75 minutes to tell us Ryan’s story and is a powerful and captivating presence.

He brings the teenager to life with a blend of puzzlement and self-loathing but Ryan never has enough self-awareness to help us mine for answers. His bleak liaisons mean nothing, and he can’t even rouse himself to nihilism, so he just pinballs between hook-ups, sleazy bars and neon kerbsides where he slumps, drunk or high.

He never strikes it rich, never strikes it lucky. He’s too young to know what’s real and what’s just passing through. Because of this, the production – written and directed by Stephen Leach – grazes idly and widely on ideas it can never properly explore. That means the A&E trauma, when it comes, is just another numbing chapter in a formless and chaotic life.

Ryan is hollow, feckless and stroppy. That Hawkins manages to engage us, despite Ryan’s armour of wanton indifference, is a tribute to the actor’s earnest persistence, demanding we should care when moving on is much, much easier.

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“a bold and fresh idea”

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 13th November 2024

by Auriol Reddaway

Photography by Max Caine

Previously reviewed at this venue:

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE

DISTANT MEMORIES OF THE NEAR FUTURE

CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE at Jack Studio Theatre

★★★½

“grazes idly and widely on ideas it can never properly explore”

CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE at Jack Studio Theatre

Reviewed on 7th November 2024

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Max Caine

Previously reviewed at this venue:

CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE

CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE