MEMORIAM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“intriguing and thought provoking”

Noga Flaishon’s “Memoriam” is being sold as a science fiction. In fact, Flaishon herself goes one step further by calling it a “Jewish science fiction… now, there’s a genre you don’t see every day!”. She is half right. Her somewhat bleak but frequently humorous one-act play explores a deep part of Jewish culture, but its context is closer to science fact than fiction. Set in the near future, the themes and morals it throws up are decidedly current.

The tech company ‘Memoriam’ is able to extract human memories, digitalise them and sell them on as virtual reality experiences to subscribers who pay quite a large premium. The original intention may have been honourable, but commercialism and commodification has crept in. Those who provide their own memories sign away their rights, allowing the company to edit and sanitise them for the mass market. A bit like an author selling the film rights to a personal memoir, only to be horrified at the resulting schmaltzy blockbuster that butchers their private sense of identity and history. This dilemma is magnified when the subject covers global atrocities and genocide. The timing of this play is quite pertinent, at a disturbing time when history and living memory are becoming increasingly distorted (depending on what statistics you believe, apparently 60% of young people today cannot differentiate between fact and misinformation.)

Company employee Rachel (Rachel Barry) is under pressure to meet targets. Having secured the memories of Becky’s (Jimena Larraguivel) troubled pregnancy and labour, she is encouraged by her boss Chris (Ben Wiggins) to turn her attention to her grandmother, Rivka (Beverley Klein): the last living survivor of the Holocaust. Her brother David (Ashley Margolis) is, for dramatic purposes, vehemently against the idea, ostensibly to fuel the domestic conflicts that are inherent and central to the narrative.

Played in the round we reap the advantages and disadvantages of this choice. Ellie Wintour’s stark set gives the feel that we are looking through a cracked shell into these characters’ lives. Along with Jonathan Chan’s clinical lighting and Sarah Spencer’s cyber-infused sound design and music, we could well imagine that we are witnessing some sort of virtual reality itself. But, unable to address all of the people all of the time, many lines are lost as backs are turned and arguments spiral. An opening monologue is particularly indecipherable.

Once we are in the thick of it, we are given much food for thought. Barry’s Rachel is initially nervy and a bit geeky until her cooler pragmatic side shines through. She doesn’t question her own morals so much as to shy away from approaching the formidable figure of Rivka with the proposition. Klein’s performance of Rivka holds the piece together with a genuine and touching portrayal of the matriarch; stern and principled, yet loving and still haunted by the atrocities she has witnessed. She also comes equipped with some of the best lines.

The issues are dealt with smartly and quite astutely, even if the writing never probes too deeply. Should Rivka’s memories of the Holocaust be used for commercial gain? And, more importantly, should the company be allowed to manipulate them to make them more viewer friendly? Rivka will only consider the deal with the stipulation that they “leave them ugly”. Daniel Goldman’s direction skilfully weaves the polemic into a warm-hearted family saga, but ultimately both are a little compromised. The real impact comes when the technology is set aside and Rivka opens up to Rachel face to face. The virtual reality experience induces what Flaishon describes as “pain shock” (clumsily reenacted on the stage with dubious physicality); but a good old tête-a-tête creates the warmth, pathos, understanding and connection that is in danger of being lost forever.

“Memoriam” is intriguing and thought provoking; the satire not always hitting home, but a chilling insight into what could feasibly be just around the corner. That it is softened by placing it in a domestic setting is part of its charm. The other part is Klein’s performance, which harks back to the fine art of storytelling. There is no ‘virtual’ about the reality of that.

MEMORIAM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 26th October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Flint

MEMORIAM

★★★

“a very human story about letting go”

“Where is everybody?”, asked the Italian-American physicist, Enrico Fermi, back in 1950. It is a question that goes back much further than that, but it is at the core of what is now known as the ‘Fermi Paradox’. Given the inconceivable number of stars in our Milky Way – and beyond – there is surely a high statistical likelihood that intelligent life exists somewhere out there; yet there is a total lack of evidence of it (a bit like the argument for time travel – if it exists, why has nobody come back to us from the future yet?). Most of the stars we see are much older than our sun, so advanced civilisations have had plenty of time to develop and colonize the galaxy. Yet where are they?

There are several theories, but none of them quell our innate desire to go out there and investigate. It is not necessarily at the core of our beings, but it is constantly bubbling away underneath. Similarly, the topic isn’t central to Alex Rugman’s new play, “The Urmetazoan”, but it’s a starting point. It focuses on two sisters; Alice (Dorothea Myer-Bennett) and Abigail (Meghan Treadway) who are worlds apart. They haven’t seen each other for seven years, but have come together for, perhaps, a last farewell. Alice is about to embark on a one-way mission into outer space.

We don’t know why they haven’t been in touch for so long. They weren’t ‘not talking’, as Alice observes, it’s just that they didn’t speak. Aspects of their relationship are touched upon but seldom followed through. When Alice says her departure – for ever – isn’t like death, Abigail disagrees. When Alice asks if she would prefer her to be dead on earth or alive ‘out there’, Abigail skirts the question. Rugman’s writing drives headlong into its various issues, but then sidesteps them somewhat in its quest for quirkiness. There are keen observations, nevertheless, and his portrait of the sisters’ bond is as sharp as it is authentic.

Myer-Bennett and Treadway match the dialogue with wonderfully natural performances, their lines and emotions overlapping in time to their shifting moods. Resentment and affection ebb and flow like tidal waves while verbal outbursts are pulled back by softer undertows and awkward pauses. The faltering connection is echoed by the frequent and abrupt blackouts that punctuate the short scenes. Anna Ledwich directs with wonderful stylistic flourishes. Each time the lights come back up, the sisters reappear in a slightly different time or space, as though in a parallel universe. Our own connection to the characters suffers slightly as a result, however, and the realism is sometimes broken. Yet ultimately the relatable performances draw us back in. We are like flies on the wall.

Alice isn’t just leaving her sister behind. There’s a guy. Will (Ben Allen), an astrobiologist who dropped out of the space mission. His initial presence is fleeting and insubstantial, but he returns later to flesh out the dynamics with more success. Alice has already left to prepare for the launch into space. Will has turned up at the house to collect a few things, to find Abigail alone. I shall say no more. The hasty unravelling veers towards the baffling and we start to lose sight of the characters’ motives. Myer-Bennett, however, beautifully portrays the fear that her imminent departure induces. Cold feet? They are positively frozen.

Tomás Palmer’s living room set has been gradually and surreptitiously stripped bare until we are eventually in the launch pad quarantine room. Alice and Abigail are separated by thick glass but that only emphasizes their closeness. There is reconciliation, maybe, but no real resolution. The questions posed at the beginning still loom large and unanswered. But that’s the way it has always been. “Where is everybody?”. The universe is so vast, are they all just too small to see? Like us. The title of the play refers to that impossibly unlikely link between basic single cell life and multi-cellular organisms that, over billions of years, gave rise to consciousness and intelligence. The ancestor of all life, as it were. An odd choice of title for Rugman’s play but, like the text, a good conversation piece. Myer-Bennett and Treadway are masters at capturing this conversational tone and Rugman builds well on this germ of an idea. What has evolved is a very human story about letting go.

Tag Archives: Sarah Spencer

MEMORIAM

★★★

Southwark Playhouse Borough

MEMORIAM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“intriguing and thought provoking”