More Life review – death-cheating tech drama is incredibly human
Royal Court theatre, LondonA wonderfully precise ensemble cast make this sci-fi vision of resurrection and immortality stab directly at the heartWhat makes a life? Kandinsky theatre company’s bruising sci-fi drama sweeps us thrillingly from 1803, when scientists electrocute a corpse to simulate stuttering new life, to 2074, when private tech companies experiment with downloading brain scans of the dead to infallible new bodies. A smartly composed exploration of greed, loss and the loneliness of eternity, More Life is an incredibly human play about technology.Victor (Marc Elliott) is our futuristic Frankenstein, a bulldozing consultant obsessed with progress, preservation and a dead woman he hopes will be the first success in his company’s experiments. As Vic brings Bridget (Alison Halstead) to a kind of life, the wonderfully precise ensemble watches as she tries on her new body. Under James Yeatman’s delicate direction, the voice is dislocated, alienating the physical form. Halstead is wonderful here, estranged from her own body, limbs suddenly stiff and unknown. Continue reading...
Royal Court theatre, London
A wonderfully precise ensemble cast make this sci-fi vision of resurrection and immortality stab directly at the heart
What makes a life? Kandinsky theatre company’s bruising sci-fi drama sweeps us thrillingly from 1803, when scientists electrocute a corpse to simulate stuttering new life, to 2074, when private tech companies experiment with downloading brain scans of the dead to infallible new bodies. A smartly composed exploration of greed, loss and the loneliness of eternity, More Life is an incredibly human play about technology.
Victor (Marc Elliott) is our futuristic Frankenstein, a bulldozing consultant obsessed with progress, preservation and a dead woman he hopes will be the first success in his company’s experiments. As Vic brings Bridget (Alison Halstead) to a kind of life, the wonderfully precise ensemble watches as she tries on her new body. Under James Yeatman’s delicate direction, the voice is dislocated, alienating the physical form. Halstead is wonderful here, estranged from her own body, limbs suddenly stiff and unknown. Continue reading...
