Review of ‘Blink’: “Parasocial love story is almost as detached as its characters”

London’s King’s Head Theatre presents this new play exploring a one-sided relationship. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if this alienated romance should enjoy any audience reciprocation.

This is no Baby Reindeer. Fortunately, no creatives will be sued. There is a downside to it, too. And that concerns its quality, which is not even half as good as Richard Gadd’s extraordinary series, based on his one-man play, about his personal experiences with a delusional stalker.

This is a parasocial love story. The subtitle already reads that. I am telling you anyway. There is no harassment, however, but there is obsession. And it comes from both parts. One loves watching. The other one loves being watched. In fact, she loves it so much that she might have orchestrated the whole thing.

There’s a pulse in Phil Porter’s quirky romance about two lovers who never met. And that beat wouldn’t have faded had the idea been given the space and treatment it deserved.

We can acknowledge the concept, albeit the show’s premise suggested something more compelling, but we cannot celebrate its shallow, underdeveloped execution — especially when the germ for a deep, thought-provoking exploration of unconventional relationships is so discernible.

Porter’s character construction skills show a refreshing degree of care for their background. As a result, the script delivers a detailed exposition, which clogs the pacing but still grants authenticity to the roles.

Inevitably, the narrative struggles to engage the viewer for most of its first act. A lot is told, but not that much happens. Both protagonists dwell in the past, as they deliver extensive monologues explaining what brought them where they are now — and consequently, what brought them together.

As the conflict starts, that sluggishness persists, and the text fails to spark enough interest. It’s not the action that’s the problem, but the way it’s approached. The idea of a tenant being secretly infatuated with his upstairs landlady teems with dramatic possibilities. Yet, that initial enticement never really materialises.

The cause for its ineffectiveness is simple, and it resides in the recount’s lack of balance — there is too much emphasis on irrelevant subjects while several crucial components are dreadfully neglected.

There is no satisfactory buildup into their first encounter — neither is there for the ones that follow. They might be in an estranged relationship, but their bond should still be robust, particularly in regard to what happens next. That isn’t the case. If the exposition was tarnished by a stagnant rhythm, the story’s core is affected by haste and superficiality.

Unavoidably, when the plot releases its most tragic elements, its pathos stays in the shadows. We haven’t experienced their journey that closely or that long to be afflicted by it. Their situation becomes more engrossing at this point, but its emotional side remains unresponsive — and so does the audience reaction to it.

If the recount’s speed wasn’t fast enough during the middle section, the plot is wrapped in an exceptionally hurried manner. Crucial lines are reduced to brisk comments, while they should have been granted a handful of pages to convey a minimum of narrative solidity.

Perforce, the script’s preliminary accomplishments are swamped by its flaws. Eventually, both the personages and story come across as sketchy and unresolved, leaving us with an incomplete thread that’s deeply rooted in psychological aspects, but which ultimately offers no psychology at all.

The production stands on a higher level. Emily Bestow’s abstract staging transfixes through its atmospheric potency and overall versatility. It cleverly extracts the key features of the reality it intends to evoke, and somewhat sublimes them through an unnaturalistic yet highly suggestive outcome.

Both performances are adequate, despite Abigail Thorn’s occasional moments of flatness. Joe Pitts gives a significantly better portrayal, which still prioritises technique over truthfulness but nonetheless demonstrates appropriate range and layering.

There’s no crush in this romance apart from its chances for poignancy and reflection, all of which are wistfully pinned under the weight of an unfinished, heavy-handed script. Blink could have been an eye-opener that shed some light on our current ways of interaction. Instead, it’s only kept a lid on its potential.

All pictures credit to Charlie Flint.

Blink plays at London’s King’s Head Theatre until 22 March. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara