Review: IMPOSTER 22, Royal Court

Produced by Access All Areas, a theatre company led by disabled and autistic performers, Imposter 22 thrusts questions about disability centre stage. It’s exuberant, bombastic, and undeniably well-intentioned, but good intentions are not enough to make good theatre.

It unfolds as a murder mystery. Joe, a homeless man and a “neurotypical” has been found dead. A CSI style investigation unravels where scenes are re-enacted by the cast to determine the culprit, which they cheekily try to pin on each other. Each has their motive. Joe had infiltrated their sanctuary, an island in Battersea Park brought to luscious life with Cai Dyfan’s exuberant set design.

The production sizzles with tongue-in-cheek charm from the get-go, aided by generous helpings of chutzpah from across the cast, but it rarely feels like more than the sum of its parts. Instead Molly Davies’ story frays at the thematic seams, spiralling into conversations that meander from the main ideas. The sub-plot revolving around Joe’s depression feels oddly out of place in a story about neurodiversity.   

As a piece of theatre Imposter 22 lacks propulsion and dramatic bite. Hamish Pirie’s tonally varied production doesn’t balance enough conjure depth or emotion in its heavier discussions about neurodivergence. But that probably isn’t the intention. The aim here feels more akin to a community project than a straight piece of theatre.

In this sense Imposter 22 achieves exactly what it sets out to do in presenting a story about disability with a disabled cast on a major London stage. Housni Hassan’s bubbly Kev announces that “this is a relaxed performance” and that the audience “are free” to make noise and move around if they want to. Relaxed performances are increasingly popular, except they are usually prescribed to a handful of nights rather than an entire run.

The issue is that the play achieves this goal by virtue of its existence. It doesn’t matter what happens on stage. The fact that it is a production on the Royal Court stage makes the only point it needs to. There’s a parallel to be drawn to last year’s thinly veiled apology of a show Jews. In Their Own Words where the show’s existence as a mea culpa was the only statement it intended to make.   

The problem is what happens when the final curtain falls. Imposter 22 doesn’t do much to develop wider conversations about inclusivity either in the arts or wider society. It just wants to exist and have a bit of fun whilst it’s at it. There may be nothing wrong with that, but it just doesn’t make for a good show as well intentioned as it may be.  

Imposter 22 plays at the Royal Court until 14 October

Photo credit: Ali Wright

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