Caryl Churchill, a visionary playwright who changes the game, is back. It’s only 17 minutes long, but it’s packed with poetry and profoundness. Meditation on sadness and death, including huge existential questions about how humanity is ruining the Earth, ourselves, and each other. Hello It’s incredibly intense.
The language is transparent, immediate, seemingly simple, and terribly funny. The shade of that meaning appears with each layer, like exfoliation of the skin. All that remains is the heart of raw, bloody pain, fear, and longing. James McDonald’s accurate and delicate work draws you in and hugs you tightly. It’s the most complete theater nugget.
Designer Miriam Buezer shows us a white box. Inside the box, someone (John Heffernan) is sitting alone at the table and eating. He starts talking – not with us, but with his partner that we soon noticed. The loss is intolerable.
Indeed, does he plead that if his loved ones are terribly coveted, they can somehow reach him? “Small things are fine … let me know that you are somewhere, small or small.”
Instead, it arrives first in an appetizing silhouette, then as the walls slide down and harden, the ghosts of the future, the dead future that never happened, followed by an alternative future and the proliferation of toxic gifts. (Everything goes back and forth between Linda Bassett, glitter and sinister).
Finally, there’s the child future they spawn (at the opening knight, Jasmine Nienya-Sameel Simon-Kegan also plays a role), laughing at a blend of optimistic innocence and the threat of Miditch Cuckoo. What its descendants bring, Churchill, leaves us with an imagination that is now deeply plagued.
What may seem unmanageable is the power and speed of the bullets, which are carried here with a mixture of fear and hope, delicate and airy like feathers.
In its elegant and eloquent abstraction, the play speaks of incredible acuity in our present moments: pandemics, grotesque incompetent governments, and soaring social changes and historical calculations over the last 18 months. , Diagonally evokes all discourses of the environmental crisis.
The first future is an abandoned socialist dream. The other is Prema Mefta’s lighting, which fills the set with an army of Bassett’s shadows. It is a burnt wasteland. Techno hell devastated by yet another war of silver rockets and robots.
When it comes to gifts, he screams, “I’m not a very good person overall.” “Because I like it, so many people are sick and dead and crazy.”
It impresses you and reminds you of Churchill’s tireless ingenuity and perfect skills.A splendid book of Areshare Harris God is In the theater, and you can see this in advance for 5 people. It’s worth every penny.
Until October 23, royalcourttheatre.com (020 7565 5000)