The audience milling nervously around Manchester Central Library’s elegant marbled foyer smiled at each other with some trepidation. One man was reading ‘Brave New World’ – but he didn’t wear the Ministry Of Truth badges we had been issued with; was he one of ‘them’? A spy, a plant?
Actually, he wasn’t – but from the outset Pure Expression Theatre, with their immersive version of Orwell’s prescient dystopian novel, 1984, created an atmosphere of mistrust and suspicion - which grew to a horrifying climax: we saw graphically and in close-up how the totalitarian state smashed anyone who had the audacity to even harbour an insubordinate thought, let alone have clandestine, pleasurable sex that is not solely for the procreation of children.
Pure Expression are developing a reputation for the quality of their performances, adaptations (their last production, Frankenstein, was a sell-out) and use of grand older venues, such as museums and heritage sites. For this production, Central Library’s 1930’s Pantheon-style building and labyrinthine interior (which the audience initially are compelled to snake through, in a cat-and-mouse silent prologue) delivered both an imperious authoritarianism and a Kafkaesque sense of paranoia. There is an irony & a poignancy in staging a story which in part deals with the re-writing of history, the creation of propaganda and which contains the line, ‘It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words’ in a public library.
Adam Taub’s adaptation of Orwell’s novel includes some key moments – and implicates the audience in enacting them: the sight of participants drilled into marching, giving party salutes and performing the Two Minutes Hate is unsettling – with some members of the audience looking distinctly uncomfortable, whereas a few punched out their movements with apparent relish.
The themes of how quickly and even eagerly we will sacrifice our individuality (and our loved ones) to save ourselves – and to become completely controlled and biddable under a repressive regime - were set early on: one audience member was admonished for using her name and not her allocated number – and several of us quickly looked at our badges, to memorise our own numbers.
In this era of all-pervasive social media & fake news, where everyone can be traced and is susceptible to influence, the narrative has clearly come into its own in many overarching ways; however, I personally would’ve like to have seen some detailed contemporary specificity. (I remember Headlong’s now six years old version of 1984 jolting us into the then-present, for example, with references to Bradley Manning & Edward Snowden).
Aamira Challenger’s Julia is effervescent, rebellious and single-minded in her pursuit of the shy, awkward Winston (Robin Hellier) - who perversely achieves a dynamism under torture, with his screaming and shocking denunciation of Julia to save his own skin. As Winston’s body arches and convulses, under the control of a suave, sinister and perfectly urbane O’Brien-type figure (Simon Gleave), members of the audience were clearly ill at ease, with some having to look away.
I was initially concerned that the wide range of faultless immersive techniques & devices employed by director Rosanna Mallinson – from the use of headphones and surveillance footage to the constant shepherding and directing of audience members – could distract and distance the audience from the central characters, but as the play progressed and the audience became more complicit in the espionage and torture as party members - spying on Winston & Julia through a ghetto window in their intimate moments and then being directly asked if any of us wished to literally pull the trigger on a newly brainwashed and politically neutered Winston - the audience’s entanglement and culpability made the crushed destiny of the lovers more distressing. The performance space in the final scenes actually seemed to shrink and become airless.
Disturbing and engrossing, 2084 never permits the audience to relax – but, despite our involvement, we are simply not allowed to challenge the abuses of power we see played out before us. We are ultimately as controlled and as helpless as Winston, and we left in silence.
Reviewer - Tracy Ryan
on - 13/2/19
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