THE UNSEEN at the Riverside Studios
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“Wrightβs writing and Patarkatsishviliβs staging pitch the message just right”
Orwell, Kafka and Beckett walk into a bar. Sounds like the premise for a joke, and indeed there is a perverse layer of humour that runs through Craig Wrightβs βThe Unseenβ, but on the whole it is made up of pretty serious stuff. There are definite shades of the three writersβ influence, who could well have been swapping notes as they downed their drinks. The bar man is a young, interrupting Tarantino who fancies himself as a bit of a dramaturg while pulling pints. Frivolity and comparison aside, though, Wrightβs heavy, harrowing, thought-provoking style comes with its own ambition, agenda and raw uniqueness.
We are plunged straight into the action. Even during the pre-show we are involuntary voyeurs, gazing upon Valdez (Waj Ali) and Wallace (Richard Harrington) in their solitary prison cells. Wallace is asleep while Valdez nervously looks around him, twitching at the sight of invisible ghosts. We see the whites of his eyes as they roll upwards in fear, dejection and confusion. Simon Kennyβs brutally realistic set encases both protagonists in their own worlds. Their own cells, and thoughts. Without making eye contact they communicate, passing the time playing memory games to keep madness at bay. They are grieving for their lost freedom, exacerbated by the fact that neither one (nor us) knows why they have been incarcerated.
Fear and paranoia continually wrestle with hope and optimism. The former invariably gaining the upper hand. A distinctly wordy play, both actors maintain an extraordinary command of the dialogue. Harringtonβs Wallace is the more restrained and resigned elder captive. A slave to routine after eleven years, he is just about managing to keep control of his own mind. Waj Ali, as the younger Valdez, is a relative newcomer. Just three years into his stretch he is on rockier ground, conjuring up a hallucinatory woman in the next cell who has promised to help him escape. But both know their only escape from this world is death. Both actors exercise an extraordinary attention to detail that accentuates their personality traits; long buried under institutionalisation.
Into this world bursts Smash, the prison guard whose impossibly complex and damaged character is breathlessly brought to life by Ross Tomlinson. As much a prisoner as the two captives, he lashes out with murderous intent in a vain attempt to kill the oppressive empathy he feels. Both torturer and tortured, we canβt help but wonder how Tomlinson unwinds after each performance. It is a savage hour and a half, and undoubtedly polemic. Director Iya Patarkatsishvili describes it as βmore than just a story; it is a call to actionβ. And for that reason, it deserves to be seen far beyond the smaller space of Riverside Studios. The macabre gallery we walk through on our way into the auditorium bears witness to the reality that is more disturbing than the fiction. The playβs anonymous setting is betrayed by the caged headshots of Russians who have taken a stand against Putinβs regime and found themselves imprisoned as a result.
Against this backdrop, Wrightβs writing and Patarkatsishviliβs staging pitch the message just right. Short enough to hit us with a whiplash force, the grotesque humour pricks up our ears to the message that sinks in as insidiously as Orwellβs infamous βnewspeakβ. Not for the faint hearted, its own heart is ferociously strong. Mike Walkerβs palpitating sound design sends literal alarm bells. This is happening every day. The finely nuanced and authentic performances are integral to our understanding of βThe Unseenβ characters. They need to be seen, just as their factual counterparts do. βThe Unseenβ, in short, is a must see.
THE UNSEEN at the Riverside Studios
Reviewed on 25th November 2024
by Jonathan Evans
Photography by Manuel Harlan
Previously reviewed at this venue:
FRENCH TOAST | β β β β | October 2024
KIM’S CONVENIENCE | β β β | September 2024
THE WEYARD SISTERS | β β | August 2024
MADWOMEN OF THE WEST | β β | August 2024
MOFFIE | β β β | June 2024
KING LEAR | β β β β | May 2024
THIS IS MEMORIAL DEVICE | β β β β | April 2024
ARTIFICIALLY YOURS | β β β | April 2024
ALAN TURING β A MUSICAL BIOGRAPHY | β β | January 2024
ULSTER AMERICAN | β β β β β | December 2023
THE UNSEEN
THE UNSEEN
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