Review: ŁUKASZ TWARKOWSKI: THE EMPLOYEES, Southbank Centre

Crammed into a plain, functional structure defined by straight lines and disorienting corridors, unsure of who you can and can’t trust and longing for the familiar sights, sounds and smells of home. 

But enough about us - we should be used to the Southbank Centre by now. What about our eponymous employees, spinning through space, dealing with their humanoid replicants (one for each worker) as they start to aspire to lose those last three letters and become human? 

Łukasz Twarkowski’s stage adaptation of Olga Ravn’s novel is at once hugely ambitious and effective theatre-making and grindingly banal, both unforgettable and superficial, gruelling but stimulating. In a run time pushing beyond two and a half hours, there’s plenty of time for such highs and lows and, indeed, ups and downs as the audience can walk around, take photos, maybe mix a cocktail or two. 

At its best, Fabien Lédé’s scenography evokes Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris, with a touch of Ridley Scott’s Alien and Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival - strong antecedents indeed. Roll in some of Philip K Dick’s relentless pursuit of what it means to be human and the hottest subject of 2025 - AI in the workplace - mediated through hi-tech video and overpowering soundscaping and you have a smorgasbord of issues, psychological and aesthetic, to bite on. 

But the meal proves unsatisfactory.

The first red flag comes with the almost comical cliche of a disembodied voice addressing our humans and their humanoid counterparts representing The Organisation, a sinister faceless bureaucracy of dubious intent. Whether that was just an unfortunate translation (the show is in Polish with excellent subtitles) I don’t know, but it wasn’t the best of starts. In my head, I could hear “You are Number Six” over and over again.

Once we settle into the narrative, there’s some talk of the dismal routine of day-to-day life and the surveillance required to promote efficiency, but that is somewhat left behind as loneliness, love and lust drive our men, women and androids into transgressive territories. Is it all a metaphor, a retread of Herbert Marcuse’s critique of industrial (post-industrial) society? 

It could, maybe should, be compelling, but, perhaps unfortunately, it reminded me of Freshers Week in a student hall of residence. Nobody quite knows who they are nor who anyone else is; there’s work to be done, but nobody really knows what; and you’re pretty sure that there’s going to be some sex involved, but will you be the one to miss out?

And it’s also like noughties reality TV sensation, Big Brother. Too soon?

A little harsh to be so undermining of high concept theatre? Well, possibly, but there’s licence surely in a production that takes time out for a bit of meta-stuff that involves spotlights bickering with each other like bitchy actors, a joke that went on too long.

Speaking of which, Ms Ravn explained in a post-show interview that she wanted to write The Employees as a statue, to be considered from multiple angles. Now I’ve seen some of the world’s greatest statues up close and personal, but I didn’t want to look at one for 160 minutes with just three short breaks for respite. As big, bold and, at times, as nude as Michelangelo’s David it may be, but the show disappoints more than delights..      

Łukasz Twarkowski: The Employees at the Southbank Centre until 19 January

Photo images: Natalia Kabanow

To post a comment, you must register and login.