(seen at the afternoon performance on 9th April 2023)
Jordan Harrison’s award-winning play was first drafted in 2013, two years before the UK’s Channel 4 had a similar idea with its smash-hit summer sleeper TV series “Humans.”
Both cover similar ground - androids identical to people, programmed to help around the house and do jobs humans have no time or taste for.
Where they diverge is that “Humans” anticipated more accurately the speed at which robots can learn, accepting that they would arrive pre-programmed and able to tap into the vast worldwide web resources of knowledge. It also took the bleaker (and probably more accurate) view that it would be the “adult entertainment” industry in all its forms which would drive development and be a major customer of the technology.
Harrison takes the route that these droids will learn from us, take on the persona of relatives whose human form has gone to the grave and provide psychological assistance in dealing with death as much as companionship.
It’s a limiting idea for a play. Marjorie is a distressed elderly lady in the early-to-mid stages of dementia (the writer doesn’t have a clue on that subject, the monkey notes). Her robot carer is Walter, her human companions daughter Tess and son-in-law Jon.
The twist is obvious very quickly as the mundanity of family life plays out over an excruciatingly long 75 minutes, the one saving grace is a uniformly excellent cast.
Anne Reid as Marjorie is benign confusion, the absent presence of her condition and frustrations when she is aware of it are captured skilfully.
Richard Fleeshman’s Walter is compelled by writing beyond director Dominic Dromgoole’s control to emphasise from the start his mechanical status. Without the benefit of “Humans” in-house “synth school” which developed impressive movement for the television characters, Fleeshman tries with great bravery for subtlety and can only be applauded for his efforts.
For Nancy Carroll as Tess and Tony Jayawardena as Jon, the rather aimless superficiality of their early scenes requires both also to rely more on technique than the script itself to engage the audience. Both hold the audience’s attention through some awkward exposition as they "program" memories with repetitive dull detail.
Later, Reid and Carroll are both double-crossed, ambushed by Harrison in a situation unfair and unreasonable for actors to accept. The concept itself of the final scene may be a redemption, but it casts an ugly shadow over the preceding efforts of both cast members involved.
In these financially straightened times, Jonathan Fensom does an excellent job of re-using a previous Menier production set, the only inexplicable being a waiting-room on one side of the stage which seemed important but played no role despite having been constructed.
For the technical team, Emma Chapman’s lighting fails only in a discotheque night-sky back projection which Fensom’s blinds may be better drawn on, while David Gregory ensures both the generous dose of Vivaldi and voices are as clear as usual in the difficult to amplify basement that is the auditorium.
Ticket prices being what they are, a box set of the Channel 4 TV show is probably better value than this curiosity. Strong cast but both the passing of time and original lack of broader imagination result in a sub-prime piece of theatre.
2 stars.