★★★★☆
Onlife, the new play by Leo Mercer, is a one-man show following Felix (Felix von Stumm) as he deals with the aftermath of a breakup on the eve of pitching his new technological invention, ‘Onlife’, to potential funders. Exploring Felix’s concerns about the demise of human interaction, the play centres, ironically, on technological means of communication, video chats, emails, blog posts, only allowing Felix’s isolated responses to be heard.
Felix interacts with another human only once. Unfortunately for the impartiality of this review that human happened to be this reviewer. Therefore, as much as I would have liked to talk of Felix’s characterisation blooming, I cannot judge this interaction objectively. However, the fact that I was at ease and forgetful of the audience probably means he was convincing up close, but I must hold up my hands and skip past this really quite pivotal part of the play.
Onlife does not have a thrilling narrative, the pace fairly steady throughout with little by way of climax. Instead the focus remains on characterisation rather than plot, something that may have caused more of an issue if it weren’t for von Stumm. Excluding the scene mentioned above, the dialogue consists entirely of one-sided conversations, Felix’s answers, so his physical and vocal reaction to unwritten and unspoken responses is relied on to carry the discourse through. This is a big responsibility, but von Stumm held the performance together, swinging dramatically between a genial, eccentric manner and quite sudden and aggressive outbursts. Despite Felix ultimately being a big, operatic character, von Stumm made him a convincing one. He pulls off the lofty metaphors and philosophical contemplations (that sound perhaps just a little too poetic), as well as occasionally blunt thematic statements; something a weaker performance might not be able to achieve.
Other than these blips, Mercer generally writes in a consistently hyperactive voice which remains naturalistic, with the exception of moments where the dialogue ‘loops’, creating a vocal-glitch effect that mimics the more surreal moments of repetitive action. Under the direction of Will Stevens, this repetition is unnervingly mechanical. It is a physically demanding role and it is a feat that von Stumm manages to maintain so much energy throughout. In particular, the aggression Felix displays when typing shows frustration when dealing with insensitive technology through physical theatre. Rather than beating his (invisible) keyboard, Felix begins to beat himself. While the absence of a physical laptop seemed an odd choice, it was actually quite effective. It exaggerated the strangeness of speaking into nothing, and the oddity of typing – the jerky, unnatural hunched position we adopt. It also shows how emotions can be glimpsed not just in what we say online, but how we punch the keys with our fingers. It is perhaps more discomforting that even without a keyboard Felix’s aggressive backspacing is recognisable. Although this physical violence works well, ending the play with a contrasting gesture – Felix’s typing gently turning into wing-like flapping arms – didn’t work. Despite the clear symbolic intention, it was perhaps a step too far in the direction of kookiness, and risked abandoning the end to silliness.
Stevens makes good use of a small space: not only did the fixed set (Felix’s room) puddle out with a mess of clothes that seemed to suit Felix’s muddled character absolutely, but allowing movement around the BT Studio – facing the audience, lurching, spinning and wandering around – made the most of the intimate space. It is admirable that it felt like von Stumm was infiltrating the audience’s space, not the other way around, and it is this quality, and his performance, which really elevates the production.
