Captivating performances lift this tour of Orwell’s prescient dystopia
‘I would lay down my life for you, Oceania’
It’s impossible not to think of current political turmoil when these words are sung around you and, as always, Orwell’s 1984 remains a sharp needle to dissect modern issues with. This 75-minute dive has moments of real promise, but there is not quite enough substance or depth to replicate the all-seeing eye of Big Brother.
Pure Expression’s immersive production comes to Hackney Town Hall, adapted by Adam Taub. I don’t believe I’d shock anyone by saying that this is not the first adaption of 1984. It has a tough task following landmark shows like Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan’s staggering production late last decade.
The Grade II listed building is an expansive labyrinth of vast and spotless rooms, working both in and against the production’s favour. There are some chilling moments of dystopia, as we file one by one up marble steps into a gorgeous, sanitised debate chamber – but this is after we open in what feels like an Tate Modern art instillation. The lack of eeriness on entry makes it feel like the show is grasping for an atmosphere just out of reach.
The first real moment of immersion is an ‘assessment’ of our devotion to the Party. It can’t help but feel reminiscent of an OCR History exam, being told to turn to the next section every two minutes, but the questions are intriguing and provoke thought about what truth means in this world. There is fun horror to be had when someone’s number is read out and their exam paper brought under the microscope.
The highlight of the show is, without question, Jude Akuwudike’s O’Brien. He is fiercely charismatic, holds the show’s pace together and a dab hand at improv to boot. Declan Rodgers and Kit Reeve provide a solid and believable relationship as Winston and Julia, however their moments (through no fault of their own) are when the show feels least immersive. Overall, this production is more of a promenade play than an immersive experience. You are guided everywhere with no freedom of movement, there are no secret experiences to be had by sidling alongside a member of the company. This is fine, and certainly the preference of some, but slightly misleading given the established precedent of immersion having some element of open-world free roaming.
Richard Hahla and Jem Wall’s co-direction is sturdy but it feels like there is meat left on the bone. For such an oppressive and dogmatic world, the physical language amongst the Party members is inconsistent – as an audience being told to conform, it’s slightly difficult when you don’t know what to conform to. The big moments soar, such as Winston’s torture in Room 101 and a twee rendition of Oceania’s national anthem that harks back to Trump rallies circa. 2016, but how sporadic these moments are holds the production back from the lofty ambition of ‘immersion’.
This feels like a step towards something really special, an experience that could capture the horrific oppression of a fascist regime, but it needs more time, ideas (and most likely budget) to leave the audience shuddering at how close that dystopia could mirror ours.