Chris Thomas’ ambitious adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984 evoked a harrowing dystopia, combining strong dramatic storytelling with Kevin Wilkins’ technological wizardry and using three projectors to throw black-and-white video imagery on to an eerily minimalist set.
The play opened with a motif that punctuated the action throughout the
first half – a trance-like crowd tracking across the stage and
gradually growing until a piercing siren drew them to the front to
listen to an announcement from Ingsoc, the party controlling their
lives. The use of movement sequences underscored with music, video
sequences, dialogue and soliloquy created a variety of dramatic action
to push the story forward, while effectively evoking the strange
imaginary future that Orwell describes in the novel
As Winston, the disillusioned protagonist who rebels against Big
Brother’s regime and all its propaganda (to which it is his job to
contribute by falsifying records), Sean Ahearne was totally compelling;
his intense aura of alienation was only lifted in the stolen moments
with Lydia Fowler’s convincingly lively and warm-hearted Julia. Coming
face to face with his determined torturer O’Brien, played with
considerable power and sensitivity by Tom Acworth, Winston is finally
forced to confront his worst fear and betray Julia in the process – a
moment that in this production was heightened by sound, lighting and
the movement of the two huge concrete walls that formed the set.
Black and white video footage, much of which was shot in the shadowy
and oppressive cellars under the main school building, served to
enhance our understanding in all sorts of ways. Many of the
stylishly-edited films in Act 1 ran in a dreamlike slow motion and
allowed further access to what was going on inside Winston’s head,
while the live camera in Act 2 closed in a degree further on Winston at
every stage of the torture process to highlight the grim reality of the
action; by the time Winston faced up to his worst fear in Room 101, the
view was from inside the rats’cage itself. The result was not only a
constant reminder of the pervasive surveillance, but a subtle blurring
of the boundaries between thought and reality: ‘Reality’, says O’ Brien
with characteristic certainty, ‘is only in the mind.’
One of the most ambitious projects in the Layard to date, this was a production that pushed the boundaries of the storytelling possibilities of theatre. Such a combination of dramatic vision and powerful execution made for an unforgettable evening – not just for the audience, but as much for the talented cast and technical crew, who must have learned a huge amount from its challenges.
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