Review: THAT IS NOT WHO I AM, Royal Court Theatre

Numerous articles have documented the theatre industry's post-covid struggle. But even before the pandemic it was in the midst of an identity crisis, mulling over ways to define itself in opposition to entertainment behemoths like Netflix.

Instead of shunning it, That is Not Who I Am embraces digital culture, chews it up and spits it back out. It is audacious, gloriously cynical, and painfully relevant in the age of neo-liberalism

Framed as a true crime documentary, the play unravels with calculated twists and turns, looming mystery, violence, and thrills. The narrative follows an investigation into Noah and Celeste Quilter, a young couple whose lives are slowly engulfed by paranoia as their relationship blossoms from a first date, to marriage, to parenthood. They fall deeper into a digital rabbit hole and are eventually embroiled in a conspiracy theory of their own.

Conspiracy theories are not the focus here; rather it is the quiet desperation for fantasy to distract from the bleakness of modern life. Celeste, played by a superb Siena Kelly, is a nurse who stoically swallows the stresses and exhaustion of working in an underfunded NHS. Her psychological vulnerability is subtle but tragic; she turns to the allure that conspiracy theories promise to add colour to her dismal life. Alongside Jake Davies's endearing yet tormented former solider, Noah, they are tragically electric to watch.

Director Lucy Morrison initially draws a thick line between what she wants the audience to think is real and what is dramatisation. She confines the performances to a mock-up of the Quilters' small flat with the theatre's backstage visible behind it.

The performances traverse the set seemingly bracketed by an actor playing the real writer ("Dave Davidson" is unsurprisingly revealed to be a pseudonym) who narrates the story and interupts the re-enaction with commentary, guiding the audience deeper into the subterfuge.

But that line soon dissipates, all is not what it once seemed to be, and the boundary between reality and fiction dissipates in one glorious cacophony of meta-textual narrative. But then the reality and fiction have already been blurred long before the performance begins with "Dave Davidson".

Without spoiling too much, Davidson is as much a character, as fictitious but as meaningful, as the ones on-stage - except his performance transcends the four walls of the Royal Court. Of course, there is a real writer who does, in a calculated moment of dada-esque brilliance, reveal their hand at the climax. When all the cards are laid bare, the true extent of the writer's creativity can only be gaped at in awe; like a spider, they have woven a narrative web and trapped the audience in it.

In poking fun at the audience for placing their trust in the narrative, the play, and the production, the Royal Court toy with the audience's ingrained sense of paranoia. As a piece of theatre, it does not want to criticise the dangers of fake news, digital data harvesting, and surveillance, but rather asks what we do to cope with them. In this sense, it is a post-post-truth play, one that reveals something fundamental about human nature and the power of storytelling. Only theatre could pull off such a maneouvre. No other art form demands the kind of trust that That is Not Who I Am preys upon.

There is no doubt this kind of metatextual playfulness will be confusing for some. But for those who speak the language of a generation cynically moulded by social media, confronted with anxieties about the future, climate change, housing crises, record numbers of mental health issues, socio-political divisions, culture wars, and general inescapable nihilism, its subversive flippancy will cut hard, fast, and deep.

That is Not Who I Am plays at the Royal Court until 16 July

Photo Credit: Manuel Harlan

 

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