Writer: Lewis Cornay
Director: Jane Moriarty
Credit must go to those tackling the big issues. Creating spaces either digitally, socially or culturally where the difficult conversations can be had, the uncomfortable questions asked and trauma treated is an admirable and important goal. For those who go through abuse, fear, harm, devastation, seeing these matters brought to the open sends a message that they’re not alone even if all the answers are not yet available. Representation matters.
Set on the anniversary of her father’s suicide, this hour long single-actor piece shows one girl trying to come to terms with a multitude of feelings and difficulties all at once. Accompanied at times by the voices of her late father and grandfather, and a younger more innocent version of herself, Imi starts out strong but disintegrates over the course of an hour fuelled by port, wine, leftover Xanax and her internet livestream. The piece is packed with smart ideas. They just don’t all coalesce into a satisfying whole.
Particularly interesting is the set-up of Imi’s livestream. She’s at home on Halloween night, streaming to her “fans”. She starts small, with viewer numbers in the single figures and low teens but when the painful confessional starts it shoots to over 80 internet creepers who want to witness the breakdown. With the phone and a ring light at the stage’s front, it’s unmistakably a focal point. In practice, it’s confusing as she flips between addressing those watching on screen and those sitting in the room – speaking first to the camera, then ignoring it to talk to us. This one-show, two-audiences approach is awkward and while the lighting (Andrew Exeter) does change to mark when she’s talking to the phone and when talking to us, it seems inconsistent, leaving us generally off-balance.
Also, like a streamer she rambles and chitters on to fill silence. It’s a familiar speaking style for those used to Twitch, Instagram or other platforms and the writing of this terminally online, emotionally incontinent and needy persona and mode of presentation is sometimes done really well here. It’s odd to see on stage, however, and combined with the above audience confusion makes for some grating scenes. Carrying this off, however, is a fantastic performance from Bebe Cave as the complex Imi. She delivers it all charismatically and gives a compelling and sympathetic portrayal of Imi’s sadness, confusion and vulnerability.
The writing from Lewis Cornay feels fairly authentic for Imi, creating a character close to what we’d see from someone who relies on internet platforms as a way to carve out a new personality. We see hints of memes and online subcultures, and her steady stream of jokes are solid. Cornay’s treatment of the darker aspects of this show are well considered too, carrying a rawness that brings out a lot of difficult, but necessary, themes about the suicide of a parent and the life that carries on after them. The mix of comedy, this streaming idea, and this sad subject are not easy bedfellows and don’t all rub well together here. But it’s done well enough to get us to an understanding of it all, though not close to a perfect portrayal.
While flawed, there’s a lot to celebrate: a great performance from Cave, inventive and creative treatment of streaming and internet language and ways of online expression, and an honest attempt to bring new angles and light to a vitally important topic.
Runs until 19 November 2022
