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Łukasz Twarkowski: The Employees – Southbank Centre, London

Reviewer: Scott Matthewman

Writer: Olga Ravn, adapted by Joanna Bednarczyk

Director: Łukasz Twarkowski

Even those unfamiliar with Olga Ravn’s International Booker-nominated science fiction novelThe Employeeswill recognise the themes in both the book and this audacious stage adaptation from Polish director Łukasz Twarkowski.

The setting is a spaceship on a long voyage away from Earth. The grubby uniforms and nameless overlords (referred to solely as “the Organisation”) are reminiscent ofAlien. Half the crew are human, the other half synthetic humanoids, crafted to look like their “real” counterparts. As prejudices and desires are explored, the nature of what it means to be human, even if you were created in a lab, is not dissimilar to the underlying themes ofBlade Runner. There is a solemnity and pallor of sadness throughout that reminds one ofSolaris; this goes hand in hand with a commitment to the abstract that, like the final reel of2001: A Space Odyssey, cares more about evocative mood-setting than narrative clarity.

Most of the story is staged within a large cube, partially open at the sides but containing a labyrinthine collection of neon-lit, mirror-walled hallways and social spaces. Around all four sides, the audience occasionally gets glimpses of the characters within, but mostly, we observe via the cube’s massive screens, onto which are projected the images from the handheld cameras that are in the space with them.

The close quarters of the cube’s interiors give a sense of claustrophobia even when splayed across the huge projections. We begin to see the effect that the long time away from Earth is having on the mission’s crew: from the human who callously switches off a humanoid when the conversation bores him, to others expressing their homesickness for all aspects of the home planet (especially its smells), and the sensation that being operational for so long might be making the humanoids grow into something greater than their original programming. As the synthetic crew members recall memories that are not their own, the characters, and by association, the audience, must contemplate what it is that defines humanity.

There is also a sense of horror at work. The crew has collected mysterious rocks as part of their mission, and the implication is that their presence is triggering the general psychotic breakdown. Is that true, or is that a convenient excuse to avoid the impact of being in close quarters for such a long time, especially when other crew members bear your face? Joanna Bednarczyk’s adaptation cares little for the answers to such questions, revelling instead in the asking of them.

The sensation of actors playing multiple copies of themselves, even when we can see that there is but one physical body, is achieved effectively. First, prerecorded video shows each human crew member in conversation with their humanoid counterpart. After that, the tight close-ups mean that when the camera whips around from face to face, we are never quite sure whether the next character it lands on is “born or made”. As the evening progresses, the video becomes a mix of the live and the prerecorded, allowing for jump cuts between two different versions of the same person.

There’s an almost hypnotic sensation to most of the work, helped by Lubomir Grzelak’s pulsating, broody underscore. The music occasionally breaks out into pop numbers or, during the show’s brief three-minute breaks at which point audience members are invited to move seats to experience the cube from all sides, breakneck anthemic EDM so loud that the whole building seems to shake.

At other times, dialogue stops, and the actors’ sunken, expressionless features stare out at us, lit by neon. At moments like this, the presentation can feel a bit too laboured, like a high-concept fragrance commercial stretched out over hours instead of compressed into thirty-second fragments.

It is quite the sensory overload at times, giving a sensation of reality breaking down. That must be the only reason for a bizarre sequence during which elements of the Queen Elizabeth Hall’s lighting rig talk to each other, discussing (among other things) why they never get as much rehearsal time as the actors. Although that sequence plays into the concept of characters with personalities treated as lesser beings than the humans they work alongside, the comedic tone jars with the same themes as they play out on stage in a more serious manner.

Billed with a running time of 2 hours 20 minutes, that turns out to be a substantial underestimate. But Twarkowski’s intriguing stylistic choices and the piece’s overall atmospherics largely grip the attention throughout. The play’s conclusion, as the Organisation reviews all the data and decides how to handle a crew whose experiences have irrevocably transformed them, is the only point at which the already glacial pace seems to draw out interminably.

But for the most part, this moody, contemplative piece of theatrical science fiction intrigues and enthrals. Quite what we have witnessed after nearly three hours is in question; its willingness to grapple with fundamental questions of self and identity is not.The Employeeshas little interest in giving us answers to the questions it poses, for everyone’s answers will be different. Even when a human and their identical humanoid share the same experience and are exposed to the same stimuli, the outcomes will be very different. There is no one answer to who we are.

Continues until 19 January 2025

The Reviews Hub Score

Sci-fi sensory overload

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The Reviews Hub - London

The Reviews Hub London is under the editorship of Richard Maguire. The Reviews Hub was set up in 2007. Our mission is to provide the most in-depth, nationwide arts coverage online.

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