“Lydia Rynne’s script is witty and well-paced, and it’s worth a watch”
Regardless of what you’ve come to see, The Vaults, with its old brick tunnel walls and stark furnishings, is always an exciting venue. Upon entering, we’re given a pair of earplugs, the reason for which becomes apparent when we see the stage covered with various drum kits. And, right on time, we are alerted to the play’s beginning with a chaotic drum crash.
Jess is nearly thirty, living in a basement flat; she has a boyfriend with whom she has sex once a month and a job that at best she finds boring, and at worst deeply despises. On discovering she is pregnant she embarks on an early life-crisis, or as the theatre’s synopsis calls it, a late coming-of-age journey, as she tries to decide if she actually wants this baby or if she is simply giving in to society’s futurist regenerative pressures.
The play consists of an hour-long monologue, and Alice Pitt-Carter does well to keep the audience engaged, making good use of the space, and allowing for peaks and troughs of energy in her delivery. The Vault Theatre’s Cavern sits directly under a train line and throughout the play the trains beat overhead to great effect, a sporadic but weighty heart-beat rhythm lending a seemingly purposeful baseline to the soundtrack. Owing to the venue’s unusual combination of echoing acoustics and an intimate space, Kay Michael might have directed Pitt-Carter to create a more confessional performance. But she acts in much the same way you might in a larger, more conventional auditorium. She is not over-dramatic, but when the audience is so close to the performer it seems unnecessary to enunciate and facially contort with such clarity.
Caley Powell’s production is simple but effective: Sally Somerville-Woodiwis’ stripped-back set design consists of a drum kit, more scattered drums, and walls covered with teenage bedroom-style poster collages. The sound design is equally bare-bones – Pitt-Carter uses the drums and a solitary microphone to punctuate certain lines, lend an element of tension or, as you would imagine with a self-professed amateur on a drum-kit, to create a feeling of stress and havoc. Martha Godfrey’s lighting generally either floods the stage and part of the audience, or spotlights in moments of high tension. All this is to great effect – it’s a small venue and the audience is on level with the staging so an overly sophisticated production would be too distracting.
A one-woman play about the pressures of society in which the protagonist decides, with zero musical experience, to be a drummer in a punk band, is a perfect recipe for disaster, and to its credit, it is not disastrous. It is, however, by no means ground-breaking either. The current conversation regarding abortion isn’t quite so fraught and the story somehow doesn’t seem realistic in the way it might have ten years ago. Nonetheless, Lydia Rynne’s script is witty and well-paced, and it’s worth a watch.
“has all the elements of an excellent show, that is until it comes to a very abrupt ending, with no real resolution”
When thinking of the future, we often imagine sleek outfits, efficient and sophisticated machinery, and a generally effortless way of living. This is decidedly not so in Emma Williams’ ‘Intronauts’ where temperamental machinery is still being given a good kick to get it working again, and that “deep itching in my anus” is still a daily struggle.
Set in the near-future, our unnamed protagonist has purchased a micro-cleaner who lives inside him and with whom he has an ongoing dialogue via messenger, directing her to resolve any internal queries. The aforementioned anus itch, for example, is settled with a good cleaning.
Employer and Intronaut never have any face-to-face interaction, and whilst physically they couldn’t be any closer (one is inside the other, after all), they are both deeply lonely. This seems to be a satirically delivered comment on technology’s simultaneous ability to bring us closer, and yet further apart than ever.
Vacillating endlessly over the right background colour for a logo design, trying and failing to learn simple dance steps (alone), and playing what appears to be a very boring, but somehow stressful game of ‘highfive’ with his computer, Adam Fuller imparts a relatable melancholy in the pointlessness and isolation of his activities. He wears a dressing gown throughout, which may be intended to imply a comfy futuristic uniform, in which case, more effort might have been made, or, seeing as he appears to be working from home, he’s showcasing the freelance life, in which case it’s spot-on.
Emma Keaveney-Roys, playing the Intronaut, is funny and endearing, using brilliant physical comedy throughout. Due to the structure of the play, she can only communicate something to the audience by talking to herself which could easily feel forced, but comes off as natural and engaging.
Chris Pirie seems to claim the role of ‘special effects’, and he does so deftly, playing the stage-hand, puppeteer, and various body cells in inflatable costumes (as well as set and costume designer, according to the credits!) Whilst the set is fairly basic, Pirie brings it to life, from characterful movements of ‘smart’ technology, to tracheal cilia ominously grabbing at Keaveney-Roys’ ‘spaceship’.
The whole play takes place behind a transparent projection screen, used to create both Fuller’s seemingly ubiquitous computer interface, and his innards where the Intronaut resides. This is very effective, and elevates the production value tremendously.
Simon Preston’s accompanying musical composition is a mishmash of 80s computer game effects, dreamy soundscapes, and bass-heavy dance. He successfully enhances moments of comedy and pathos, as well as lending a sense of danger to some of the Intronaut’s missions – not so easily done when she is supposed to be crawling around inside her owner’s anus.
This has all the elements of an excellent show, that is until it comes to a very abrupt ending, with no real resolution. Wrapping up after only an hour, it seems more like the first half of a really great story. Perhaps there’ll be an ‘Intronauts: Part 2’, and judging by the first half, I’d definitely go see it.
Reviewed by Miriam Sallon
Photography by Emma Windsor
Intronauts
Jacksons Lane until 13th January as part of the London International Mime Festival
