Sunday, March 24, 2024

Vection – virtual antenatal preparations aided by ... a panda (Headrush, Ireland at the Lyric Theatre)

Caitlin (Catherine Rees) and Danny (Simon Sweeney) are expecting a child. They’ve turned their back on possessions and seem to be living in a virtual reality environment that accepts verbal prompts – much like how a scene might be described to kickstart an AI image creation tool – to transport them to other places. As part of their antenatal preparation, they are working through a long list of emotions to find examples to feed into their child’s development. Caitlin values situations that they have experienced during their lives. Danny finds ancient history a rich source for his suggestions. Their virtual encounters only serve to amplify their discomfort with each other.

That’s what I think is going on in Jonathan M Daley’s Vection which favours ‘show not tell’ (which is a good thing) but also leaves a lot of ambiguity around how the setup should be interpreted (a less good thing). There’s also an elephant in the room in the shape of a large black and white panda sitting on the (presumably) virtual white sofa. At first Keith Singleton brings intrigue to the static figure, then turns into an enormous raised eyebrow as ‘Pan’ reacts in slow motion to some of Caitlin and Danny’s utterances, and gradually comes out of his shell as their companion’s full role and abilities are revealed.

It may help to know that ‘vection’ refers to the various cognitive factors that allow someone to perceive self-motion when in a virtual reality environment. Caitlin and Danny could be accused of experiencing the motion of going backwards as they race through the looming list of emotions to collect. Caitlin becomes increasingly exasperated by Danny, distrusting his frequent virtual excursions without her as Danny seeks cheap comforts as a way of avoiding Caitlin’s desire for collegiately and frankness. Rees balances a pleasing range of emotions as Caitlin lives through her pregnancy (real or virtual?) and survives spending time with Danny.

Faced with Emma Quin’s almost totally white set and just a few objects suspended in mid-air, the audience must imagine how the world is repainted by the often quite specific prompts that the couple give. Gentle lighting effects help establish the oft-visited nightclub. Pan is full of apt dance moves and makes a great bar man. Singleton’s level of control throughout the one act play – from barely moving to full exuberance – largely compensates for the absurdity of a panda being on set beside the couple. First Danny and ultimately Caitlin show their unlikeable sides, robbing those watching any chance if building up empathy with the characters.

Vection asks the audience to do a lot of thinking. We must look at the white set and imagine the boilersuit-wearing couple in a myriad of different vistas. We must differentiate between Caitlin and some of the other women Danny meets in his virtual wanderings. We must try and figure out whether Pan is a visual representation of Alexa or Siri, or alternatively is something simpler or maybe more sinister. We must ponder why the verbal prompts sometimes transport the couple together and sometimes alone. How they can revisit old memories, but also step into purely imaginary situations. And why is this high-tech system powered by such a strange (and silent) mammalian energy source?

Headrush, Ireland have produced another high-concept piece of theatre. (Previous work includes Sink or Swim and We Like It Here in 2018 and Assembly Required in 2019.) The performances are strong and the Lyric Studio space is well used (particularly one final reveal which opened a vista I hadn’t previously spotted in the 13 years since the theatre reopened.) The exploration of virtual reality without asking the audience to wear headsets or look at screens is laudable and timely. While the play asks whether virtual reality threatens to end the world as we know it, there is enough repetition in the plot that I can’t help wondering if the answer could be found in a tauter 50-minute play – or even a 20-minute short film – lurking in this much longer and needlessly more complicated script.

Vection finished its run at the Lyric Theatre on Sunday 24 March.

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