Tag Archives: The Other Richard

Anthropology

Anthropology

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

ANTHROPOLOGY at the Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

Anthropology

“some interesting twists and turns along the way”

Anthropology, Lauren Gunderson’s new play premiering at the Hampstead Theatre, is a convoluted tale about sibling love that attempts to transcend life as we presently know it. It begins as a tale about a missing woman, and her sister’s refusal to give up the search for her. Since sister Merril is a tech wizard specializing in artificial intelligence, it’s not long before A.I is employed as a tool to help Merril in her mission. But at the heart of Anthropology is an unnerving question: can artificial intelligence mimic humans so well that people begin to respond to them as though A.I was human? And even more chilling: that A.I might produce intellectual and emotional interactions that are somehow even more relatable than the humans they imitate?

Gunderson’s protagonist Merril and her sister Angie have endured a tough childhood marked by their mother’s descent into drug addiction. Merril stepped up as Angie’s parent when mother Brin no longer could, so it’s not surprising that Merril would continue searching for her sister when everyone else has given up. Merril’s grieving is so intense, however, that she turns to A.I not only as a way of trying to find clues about what happened to Angie, but also as a way of maintaining a relationship that she cannot bear to relinquish. A.I Angie, it turns out, is just as prickly and unsettling as the original, and part of the pleasure of Gunderson’s humorous script is watching Merril (played beautifully by MyAnna Buring) caught continually off guard by her digital sibling’s unerring ability to cut to the chase regarding Merril’s failed relationships with lover Raquel (Yolanda Kettle) and mother Brin (Abigail Thaw). There’s a lot more story packed into this tense 90 minute thriller of a plot, and some interesting twists and turns along the way. Ultimately, however, Anthropology is less about the success of artificial intelligence in predicting human behaviour. It is more a story about failed human relationships.

“ninety minutes is too short a time to explore such complex subject matter as artificial intelligence in the context of a family drama”

Anthropology begins encouragingly enough in a gleaming white box of a set, designed by Georgia Lowe, sparsely populated by a podium, a screen, and two open lap tops on the floor. MyAnna Buring as Merril gives an intriguing account of her search for Angie by using A.I to sift through her sister’s digital footprint, looking for clues. Merril is very good at her work, and soon digital Angie has become video Angie, confidently predicting that human Angie may still be alive. There is, however, a price to pay. Merril will have to repair her relationships with Raquel and Brin in order to know for sure. It’s a great set up, and suggests all sorts of directions for the plot to go. The production is further enhanced by a medley of tech inspired lighting (James Whiteside), video design (Daniel Denton) and back projections, plus music and sound design (Max Pappenheim). But what begins promisingly as an exploration of artificial intelligence as solace for grieving (a subject also explored by pioneering sci-fi writer Isaac Asimov), ends up in Anthropology as yet another tale of absent parents and sibling rivalry. Even the wit and sparkle of Gunderson’s dialogue cannot quite disguise the recognition that this is pretty familiar territory, plot wise.

In fairness, ninety minutes is too short a time to explore such complex subject matter as artificial intelligence in the context of a family drama. Anthropology is a very American play; the all female cast treads all too familiar territory in such intimate settings. For all Merril’s high tech bravado, she is still fettered by the assumption that her life and career, are always at the mercy of relationship repair and unmet expectations regarding parenthood. It’s a brave attempt on Gunderson’s part to try to create a cutting edge drama about cutting edge technology. But the results are predictable, given the shortcomings of the humans (still) in charge.

 

ANTHROPOLOGY at the Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 18th September 2023

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by The Other Richard


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Stumped | ★★★★ | June 2023
Linck & Mülhahn | ★★★★ | February 2023
The Art of Illusion | ★★★★★ | January 2023
Sons of the Prophet | ★★★★ | December 2022
Blackout Songs | ★★★★ | November 2022
Mary | ★★★★ | October 2022
The Fellowship | ★★★ | June 2022
The Breach | ★★★ | May 2022
The Fever Syndrome | ★★★ | April 2022
The Forest | ★★★ | February 2022

Anthropology

Anthropology

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The Choir of Man

The Choir of Man

★★★★

Arts Theatre

THE CHOIR OF MAN at the Arts Theatre

★★★★

 

Choir of Man

“we leave with music in our hearts and a smile on our face”

 

The immediate sensation on walking into the Arts Theatre is one of nostalgia. Almost a yearning, for what is a rapidly disappearing institution: the local pub. The sticky floor, familiar faces. Beer mats on the tables instead of menus. No wine list. No cocktails. Just beer taps and bonhomie. “Welcome to the Jungle”. It’s an odd choice of name for a traditionally English (or is it Irish?) pub. But the regulars have probably just adopted the title in homage to Bon Jovi who provides the opening number to this exuberantly brilliant musical tribute, jukebox, concert, mash-up.

It is all very manufactured, but we soon forgive and forget as we are swept along in the flow of spilt beer and emotions. Our host is slam poet Ben Norris who guides us through the self-penned narrative. “We’re not here to tell a story” he announces, which is good counsel because there isn’t one. “We’re here to give each of us life”. Which is even better. The life and energy that every cast member brings to the stage defines, if not eclipses, our idea of a ‘bloody good night out’.

The choice of songs might sometimes be suspect, but the arrangements, courtesy of musical supervisor, vocal arranger and orchestrator Jack Blume, are captivating. Rousing anthems rub shoulders with stripped back a Capella moments. The synthetic seriousness of the lyrics is either lampooned or embraced depending on the personality of the singer. Occasionally schmaltz does gain the upper hand, but it can’t sustain itself. Humour intervenes, and a natural showmanship that is simultaneously virtuosic and blokey. Freddie Huddleston’s choreography belies its inventive precision with spontaneity and spirit.

With no story to follow we are left to wallow in the glorious performances. Whether this is deliberate or not is unclear, but it is in song that the personalities shine. Norris introduces us to the stock characters: the beast, the romantic; the hardman and the barman. The joker and the bore, and so on. But they are sketches until the music starts. Michael Baxter, as the maestro, gives a wonderfully playful and skilful rendition of The Proclaimers’ ‘I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)’ while Jordan Oliver’s handyman persona tap dances furiously through Paul Simon’s ‘Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover’. Adele’s ‘Hello’ finally gets the poignancy it deserves, very cleverly set against the backdrop of the boys watching the football on the pub TV screen. Norris raises the hair on our necks with Luther Vandross’ ‘Dance with my Father’.

The overall message, if there is one, is of the importance of human connection. It presupposes that it is a dying art and much of the blame is put on lockdown. It is part fantasy in that it solicits a world that was better without qualification. But that’s nostalgia for you – it ain’t what it used to be. If you can ignore the various platitudes (‘home is where the heart is… but what if your heart is all over the place?’) “The Choir of Man” is a stunning musical show. And rightly so the crowd were on their feet before too long. It’s heartening to see a production like this make it into the West End, but there is also the feeling that it yearns to get back to its roots. Back to the Fringe. Back to the pub. One of the most moving moments was when the microphones were switched off for a folk finale. “So, fill to me the parting glass, good night and joy be to you all”.

The ninety minutes spent in the company of “The Choir of Man” has been overflowing with joy. It’s closing time, and we leave with music in our hearts and a smile on our face. And with the knowledge that, should we wish it, it will be opening time again tomorrow.

 

Reviewed on 13th October 2022

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by The Other Richard

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

The Choir of Man | ★★★★★ | November 2021

 

 

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