Review of ‘The Sound of Absence’: “Powerful title is honoured the wrong way”

London’s Omnibus Theatre presents this one-woman autobiographical play exploring anger and grievance following the death of a toxic father. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if its problems go beyond the parental realm.

This happened 916 days ago. They could have said 2023, but they tried to be poetic about it. They didn’t succeed, however. And that might be the only salvageable example in a piece that’s not so worth preserving. Its content might be genuine, but it rarely comes across that way.

It’s a tale from the heart with no heart of its own. And that’s the most painful part of it. It hurts to say just as much. In the end, we should be compelled by someone acting their soul out, as they reflect on their difficult relationship with their late father. This is nothing of the sort. And eventually, all that we’re left with is a wannabe drama with no ability to feel or make us feel.

It’s an example of a formula with all the right elements except the most crucial ingredient: instinct. None of the tools the script employs is necessarily wrong — sometimes, they even meet the story’s demands. It’s the lack of resourcefulness when using them that makes the entire concoction so terribly dull and emotionless, no matter how much forced shouting, grunting, twirling, and falling onto the floor it features.

There’s nothing stirring about it. It’s an inert creature with every organ and particle in its system capable of producing life, but without any blood pumping through. We are taken on a journey exploring the writer and protagonist’s attachment to a toxic parental figure. She suffers from anger, frustration, grief, and desperation. However, as we accompany her, all that we can experience is apathy.

The script’s main issue stems from its oversaturated style. It’s plagued by cliched metaphors and pointless abstractions with no impact or eye-opening quality. And eventually, the whole thing comes off shallow and sterile.

There’s no real pathos. The author is clearly overwhelmed by the baggage she’s bound to carry, but she wouldn’t share its weight with the audience. And hadn’t we been told so beforehand, we would assume the playwright doesn’t realise the character’s sentiments.

It doesn’t feel truthful or deep. There’s no roughness other than the missing polish the text exhibits. And as the show reaches its conclusion, we can’t help being overtaken by the idea that we don’t know who the lead actually is.

For the entire time, we’ve been watching an ersatz of a person who refuses to reveal her humanity. She tries to present herself as vulnerable and sincere. Yet, all that we’ve been given is a bleak facade where all flashes of authenticity have been blocked out.

Yanina Hope’s rendition doesn’t contribute to the production’s value, either. Overall, her interpretation is artificial, superficial, and bland. She doesn’t deliver any poignancy, let alone subtlety. And for the most part, her execution fails to engage the viewer or build the slightest connection with them.

Performed in a black box through a live grand piano underscore, Vladyslav Kuznetsov’s music is a moderate highlight in an otherwise blank concoction. His music, a fine mixture of minimalism with a few expressionist influences, conveys sentiment and texture. And although it doesn’t always serve the narrative most adequately, his graceful playing underpins those traits by providing brightness and vigour.

The staging is admittedly the production’s best accomplishment. Visually gripping, its reduced but intricate lighting creates a vivid tapestry of atmosphere and heightened emotions. Simultaneously, the floor projections add a sense of elaborateness while accentuating, unlike the script, the protagonist’s psychological burden.

A thousand plays about family loss have been penned. And another thousand will be made before anyone starts counting. The very few that can permeate and endure are those that make the spectator understand and feel understood. The Sound of Absence parts from an excellent source, but spills all its potential out by not finding its own voice, inevitably muting itself in a loudly overcrowded market. And much like its name, there was nothing for audiences to grasp or to take home.

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All pictures credit to Valya Korabelnikova.

The Sound of Absence plays at London’s Omnibus Theatre until 28 February. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara