Sam Holcroft’s dystopian play lands on the West End after its original run at the Almeida Theatre. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its dark comedy plot about political oppression manages to toe his party line.
As a censor, it is my job to protect you, viewers, from reality. Nothing better than a yellow-face show to say things the way they are. Such a shame that people are not so fond of it anymore. I’m still a great fan, though. But I guess this kind of comedy has had its time. After all, The Simpsons have been around for far too long. How’s the deletion of that angry tweet going, by the way? Alright. Let’s move on. But only a few inches, as we haven’t stepped too far away from today’s play’s main theme. We used to think that we were part of a culture led by freedom of speech. If that ever happened, that’s definitely not the case anymore. And there’s just one thing scarier than living in a community where a fundamental right is cut down. And that’s believing you don’t.
Stories revolving around the control of critical thinking and political oppression in general are as a common as its presence in our everyday. From subtle (and not that subtle) works poking fun at today’s mentally exhausting PC to more bleak narratives surrounding the severe suppression of any kind dissidence, a plot exploring the struggles of artists, advocates and people on the whole who want to speak their minds comes as no surprise (though no boredom, either) on any stage.
A Mirror is, on many levels, an impression of all those previous pieces. A catalyst of the ongoing need for any detracting soul to fight the establishment. And a contemplation on the dangers that power (sometimes, given in return for safety) can bring upon us. There’s nothing new as for what it attempts to point out, nonetheless. We’ve heard it before and we’ll keep hearing it over and over again. At the end of the day, some thing simply never change. But how much of a voice does Sam Holfcroft, as a writer, actually manage to deliver?
Following the archetypal structure of theatre within theatre (and within theatre one more time), the recount revolves a troupe of actors trying to stage a play mocking the governmental coercion they face – disguised as a wedding event for official not to find out. A genuinely nice touch to draw audience into its universe (you’ll be asked to play along a couple of times to deceive the forces of law), the question is still raised as for why Jeremy Herrin (director) hasn’t taken its immersiveness even further.
As you descend into the auditorium, a few props on display will discreetly drag you into that world. But that experience needs to be heightened. If we are plunging into an Orwellian world epitomized in a clandestine venue, then everything must be consumed by such reality. Ushers should play as either allies in the complot or guards we, as viewers, are meant to pull a wool over their eyes before taking our seats, while the rest of the building should be themed more accordingly to the setting we’re supposed to be walking into. They’ve already halfway through, anyhow – as Max Jones’s designs, beautifully integrated with the space’s architecture, create a seamless transition from the outside into the play’s eerie location.
Halting the fictional play’s performance (as both a framing and pacing mechanism) several times, the rhythm is predominantly satisfying, but there are still a few scenes that contribute very little to the account’s arc and evolution – with approximately 20 minutes needing to go for the script to properly work. In addition, though the dialogue is engaging, there’s a lack of subtlety at some moments, particularly when the main topics of the play are underlined – thus, preventing the conversations from moving forward in a more organic manner and unable to bring on a more natural vibe to them on some crucial excerpts.
Yet, such problems are not matched by the renditions, with many of them standing out due to its flair and theatricality. Jude Akuwudike makes an incredibly memorable appearance, despite being onstage only during the last scene, through his elegant and magnetic portrayal in the role of the Senior Officer, while Geoffrey Streatfeild gives a praiseworthy interpretation as Bax thanks to his charming comedic skills. However, the highest acclaim is earned by Jonny Lee Miller in the lead part of Celik, enhancing the strength of his character through an even stronger depiction, which exudes attitude, enticement and tastefulness.
You’ve probably heard that every story has been told. And to some regard, that’s not far from the truth. This piece isn’t, at the same time, an exception. Perhaps drawing inspiration from works like Koki Mitani’s The Last Laugh, while also bringing to the action some of the author’s own personal background, A Mirror wisely reflects upon its motifs while developing a moderately philosophical observation on the threats that keep lurking against our liberties, but still requires a sharper execution to let its individuality materialize. Its potential to excel lies beneath its lines, but a few deciding tweaks must be made for it to grow from a mirage into something solid.
All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.
A Mirror plays at London’s Trafalgar Theatre until 20 April. Tickets are available on the following link.