Review: THE HAYSTACK, Hampstead Theatre

Terrorism. Online security. Passwords. Encryption. Cookies. These are all familiar terms in the modern world. Odds are, as audiences take their seats in the Hampstead Theatre to watch Al Blyth's new play The Haystack, they'll finish a text or quickly dash out an e-mail before turning off their phones. The walls have ears, they used to say - but now, the threat seems much closer, with the objects we rely on daily becoming tools to invade our privacy. But is this a necessary evil?

Neil (Oliver Johnstone) and Zef (Enyi Okoronkwo) work for the Government Communications Headquarters (GCHQ). When an assignment to discover the source of leaks to The Sun and The Guardian leads the two to discover Cora (Rona Morison), a young journalist, the boundaries of professional behaviour are tested.

The play begins by asking what happened to Cora Preece, but what follows is a deft exploration of the role of surveillance in society today. This is a digital whodunnit, bringing the politics of guilt and the cause of blame into the modern age. Blyth never presents a hero, leaning (if rather heavily) into the stereotype of the modern tech-savvy nerd: they're intelligent but socially inept and romantically forlorn. They talk too fast, play video games and don't shower enough.

The moral ambiguity surrounding the role of the state in observing our lives considers both personal and nationwide levels. Scenes demonstrate individual consequences whilst the play broadly asks questions about the nature of state control in our lives.

Blyth writes on a topic that feels simultaneously prescient and worn. When Cora gives an almost TEDx-style talk about loneliness in the digital age - "We've never been more connected, but never felt more alone" - it feels familiar, almost obvious. But the play is at its best when it leans more into the exploration of the processes and people that are supposed to keep us safe.

Strong use is made of contemporary events: the first act ends with a list of spies whose deaths, though put down as suicide, reveal a concerning pattern that implies something much darker. The second act then opens with a presentation about the terror attacks in London over the past 10 years, which achieves a greater significance given the attack in Streatham this week. "These aren't just tragedies'," observes Hannah, Neil and Zef's manager, "they are failures."

The long duration of the play means that the audience's attention may at points threaten to unlock, but Blyth keeps a variety of twists and turns, especially in the final part, to keep you entertained. That said, between 10 or 20 minutes could be wiped from the almost three-hour run time.

The entire production is aided enormously by Duncan McLean's video and projection design. Tom Piper's set is made primarily of wooden boards that come alive with streams of digital content. Google searches and Netflix binges are realised alongside the spying programmes of government desktops.

As part of this, "live" discussions between characters are projected onto the stage. Sirine Saba appears briefly as Ameera, Cora's affluent source, whilst Oli Higginson plays Rob, Cora's boyfriend. These videos can feel contrived and awkward. For the majority of the play, director Roxana Silbert has either Neil or Zef simply standing on stage and watching Cora's troubles, a simpler yet more effective way of implying the quiet presence someone else might have in all our lives.

Sarah Woodward is a brilliantly deadpan Hannah ("Ma'am" to the rest of us). Okoronkwo is also superb as the eager Zef, who is not only caught off-guard by his friend's actions but is also not innocent. As Neil, Johnstone brings a nervous energy, jumping across scenes and fully tackling the play's situations and questions. They all do well in bandying about the specific terminology and definitions.

Rona Morison as Cora is also enticing. Presenting a messy and confused young woman with subtlety, Morrison deftly controls her character's emotions with nuance and dry humour.

The title of the play refers to a government process of information gathering: you take the whole haystack with the hope of finding the few needles. Though that process sounds arduous, it doesn't take long for the audience to recognise this play's stinging relevance for these worrying times.

The Haystack is at the Hampstead Theatre until 7 March.

Photograph credit: Ellie Kurttz.

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