Creator: Alexandra Draghici
“I have no idea what’s going to happen. All I know is that this is not just a show but an exploration of what happens when we see each other, as we are, in the moment.”
Devised by charismatic multidisciplinary writer, director and performer Alexandra Draghici (Romanian-born, with British and Portuguese theatrical degrees and significant creative credits in all countries), Electric Connections is, in technical terms, an “AI-powered immersive show featuring intimate biofeedback encounters”.
Feelings arising from contact between Draghici and individual onstage guests are captured by devices linked to heart-responsive tech that translates them into audiovisual displays. These portray the oscillating emotions of both parties as they align and separate. This digitised sensory improv, a clever, much-needed way of using tech to foreground humanity, is steered by Draghici with sensitivity, warmth and humour.
At the start of review night – only the second iteration of Electric Connections – a rainbow-hued amoeboid shape projected onto a screen pulsates to loud club music, behind a simple bench bearing the finger and wristwatch sensors.
Draghici, in smart striped jacket and jeans, her long red hair gleaming, is a bundle of nervous energy, chattily befriending the audience. Having introduced the show’s concept she asks: “Who’s ready to see what their circulatory system has to say?” Another redhead steps forward; forestalling possible preconceptions around audience ‘plants’, Draghici cries: “She’s not my sister!”
Using the finger sensors, their heartbeats appear onscreen as swirling, effervescent snowstorms, one pink, one purple, also represented as sounds: “Water is my heartbeat, wind is yours, and the music is our heartbeats synching.”
Draghici shares that she chose the sounds on the journey to the theatre; the music is Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The pair embarks on a sequence of mirrored movements: making circular patterns in the air with their palms, clutching hands, raising eyebrows and breathing deeply. The swirls divide and merge, and the music surges in and out of wind and rainstorm soundscapes.
The next participant engages with Draghici in a variety of movements: backwards swimming, falling, tai chi, ballet, gorilla imitation, shadow throwing and under-bench crawling. The sounds and patterns billow and ebb accordingly.
Audience member 3 is in talkative mode as he straps on the watch: “Does this thing work as a polygraph? Do you like the audience? How did you get here?” “I drove.” “But I know you’re a passenger princess!” Draghici’s purple snowstorm pumps concertedly. “Are these projections leaves… rice?” “No, just projections of points in space.”
The audience giggles and claps nervously at first, unsure in knowing how to behave, but the anxiety depletes with each performative session.
Getting more into the flow, the next stage sharer, calm and self-possessed, creates a wordless narrative of obsession, rejection and reconciliation, provoking sound effects that suggest a desolate seashore. He is impassive, Draghici is frenetic, at one stage wrapping his head in her hair and tailing him to create a lumbering monster. It’s simple but moving. They remove each other’s watches that now need speed recharging. Draghici laughs: “We thought about this: it’s in the process.”
Having emphasised at the start that this was a relaxed performance during which anyone could exit, Draghici seems almost surprised that no one has:
“If anyone wants to leave, we can go home early!” But of course, now that the allotted time is nearly up, and people are beginning to comprehend the format, there are more takers. The next subject asks: “How do we control it, make the shapes move closer?” Draghici replies, “We can’t control it… I’m meant to be the calm presence in the room, but I can’t hide. Everyone can see my heart rate.” She reveals that creating this show was a way of overcoming her fear of social interaction.
Drawing the performance to a close, Draghici thanks her technical team and asks for feedback via QR code: “This is very much a work in progress.” Appreciative audience members approach Draghici; musicians and directors seek to collaborate. Other well-wishers suggest influences she might investigate: Algorave, Tod Machover.
Overall, the show has the feel of an exhilarating, intimate workshop, with therapeutic undertones: it’s relaxing, like watching knitting, the wake of a boat or the rotations of a washing machine. As with any show involving audience participation and improv, there are issues around the show’s content varying according to the calibre of input provided by each player, and their willingness to interact. The repetition of effects becomes slightly tedious, but proceedings are always buoyed by Draghici’s presence.
She acknowledges that, given the show’s current budget, the effects are limited. Much more could be done to ‘personalise’ and diversify these, and hopefully, Electric Connections will grow into something complex and spectacular. Fun, determined and open to improving advice, Draghici seems well-equipped to navigate the bewildering array of options ahead.
Runs until 27 September 2025
