Writer: Lucas Cloos
Directors: Lucas Cloos and Lola Shaw
Plays that tackle difficult subjects deserve respect. Actors who put their energies and their craft into striking fire from problematic material are admirable. Admiration and respect do not, unfortunately, guarantee an enjoyable theatrical experience.
The Practice explores the aftermath of the death of a charismatic cult leader. Harry Fischer has a Foundation that offers Primal Therapy-type psychological re-sets, using The Practice. What The Practice is is never explicitly stated, but it involves masks and role play and accessing the subject’s Inner Child and lots of stuff like that. It seems to owe a debt to Method Acting as well, but maybe that’s just because it’s a play with actors discussing the process.
Harry has died, and a group of individuals are vying to take control of the Foundation. There are a series of board meetings interspersed with therapy sessions, lots of shifting allegiances and betrayals, a whole heap of somewhat random emotional outbursts, and an eventual winner. People storm off and come back in another state, sometimes they explain what happened, sometimes they don’t, there’s a lot of emotional Sturm und Drang.
Perhaps the play requires a prior commitment to the philosophies of self-actualising and the value of charismatic individuals to steer adherents through change. Without that commitment, the play consists of a group of sketchily characterised individuals squabbling over a company the importance of which is unclear. Is it a huge gold mine with thousands of participants? In which case the motive for fighting for control is financial gain, which is a clear and understandable motive. Or do the vying principals have a profoundly felt desire to continue Harry Fischer’s noble work? The play doesn’t say.
The five actors struggle to animate the sketchy premise, but they have a lot to contend with. The exit is a long hike through the audience which makes flouncing off difficult, the very basic lighting – four yellow fluorescent tubes overhead, one unforgiving blue tube upstage, all controlled with on-stage light switches – is not subtle or flattering, and certainly not helpful in mood setting. The presence of a double-bass player improvising behind them is intriguing and quite pleasant – thanks to Deniz Dortok the musician – but does nothing to make the intentions of the play clearer.
The main handicap though is characterisation so sketchy it’s nearly invisible. Stephen Chance has to present an individual reverting to childhood, which in this exploration of therapeutic communities would seem a quite high-stakes transformation, but it doesn’t appear to impact him or anyone else much, despite Stephen Chance’s best efforts.
It’s a theatre piece that sets out to explore a significant subject. It gives it a go. It fails because the theatricality is lacking.
Runs until 12 April 2025
