Is our ever-increasing reliance
on ‘digital servants’ a good or bad thing? That’s the question at the heart of
Tim Price’s dark comedy, Isla.
Gifted with an Alexa-style device
named Isla by his well-meaning daughter, cantankerous pensioner Roger gets to
grips with his new gadget during lockdown. At first, he is reluctant but after
striking up a bond with his new assistant, he soon discovers the darker side of
modern technology and is taken on an unwilling journey of self-discovery.
Price’s writing is fresh and
vibrant. Personally, I’m not ready to see performances that have anything to do
with Covid-19 or lockdown or the last miserable 18 months, but I have to say
Price tackles the topic from an interesting, engaging new angle. I couldn’t
help but sympathise with Erin as she desperately tried to keep up with her work
demands and keep her father safe from the virus. As she kept a lid on her
frustration at her father’s blasé approach to social distancing and isolation,
I thought about the same conversations I had had with elderly relatives last
year. Isla doesn’t romanticise lockdown. Neither does it overly-dramatise it.
Instead, it captures the subtle nuances of the lockdown experience perfectly
(there’s even a cameo from Joe Wicks and those famous home exercise classes). His
script crackles with razor-sharp wit, pathos and painful veracity.
Mark Lambert is the height of
professionalism as Roger. He carries the whole show effortlessly, infusing a
wonderfully recognisable humour and grumpiness as the frustrated widower. We
laugh as he initially rejects his gift, shrugging off any suggestions he may
need support. We feel a warmth towards him as he starts to marvel at Isla’s
helpfulness in a lovely, almost child-like way. And then our hearts break for
him, as Isla becomes his confidante and he reveals more and more about his
worries and concerns – from growing older to being ignored by society. His
loneliness and grief for his wife Joy is shown sensitively through some lovely
interactions with Isla. Roger is all of our parents and grandparents. He is so
recognisable he is instantly likeable, despite his faults.
Lisa Zahra plays his fraught
daughter Erin beautifully. We empathise with Erin as she juggles the pressures
of working through lockdown and providing care for her elderly father from a
distance, and we are disappointed in her when she appears to put work before
her father. (Another lovely moment of poignancy which has hilarious
consequences as Roger tries to use Isla to send a text message.)
But then things begin to follow a
more unexpected path. Without giving too much away, Isla twists into a more
politically charged tale which explores contemporary themes such as sexism and
domestic abuse. There’s even a reference to a digital #MeToo movement
(‘#R2-MeToo’). Catrin Aaron, who also provides the voice for Isla, steals the
scene as the condescending PC Jones (‘OK?’) sent to educate Roger on gender
equality and misogynist hate speech. PC Jones’ scene is a shining example of
how Price delivers a sucker punch message through delightful comedy. Yes, we
laugh at Roger’s poor attempts to lighten the mood and absolve his guilt as he
questions what PC Jones says in her own home, but then we are hit with a
revelation that she actually says affirmations to protect her own mental health
after dealing with ignorant people all day. We end up questioning Roger’s
behaviour alongside him – is it as harmless as it first seems?
Isla is a wonderfully nuanced
piece about relationships and loneliness, which leaves us questioning not only
how we treat those around us, but how we treat our appliances! Does a device
that mimics a human identity deserve to be abused any more than a real human
does? And what might the future
repercussions be for those who commit such a crime?
I’ll certainly be thinking twice
about how I speak to the photocopier at work tomorrow, anyway!
Reviewer - Gavin Hayes
on - 21.10.21
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