Wormholes is a human story that is bravely written and well executed.
Emily Jupp’s Wormholes, playing at the Omnibus Theatre, is a piece directed by Scott Le Crass exploring the mental labyrinth of a survivor of domestic violence and psychological abuse, after she finds herself in a psychiatric ward trying to piece together her life and her memories.
The narrator (played by Victoria Yeates) describes the invisible and irreparable damage a guinea worm can have on the insides of its host bodies – carving tunnels and destroying from the inside out, an insect that can leave undetected and – god forbid – return more than once in a single lifetime.
The metaphor is a thread that runs throughout the piece. It works to encompass the destruction such a volatile relationship can have on the individual person’s life. It also does not matter who you are, but anyone can be part of the unlucky percentage afflicted.
We follow her from her present into the dark tunnels of her past, as the dramaturgy of the play loops round and round in a spiral, closing in on itself as the play progresses until we reach its centre, where the darkest part of the truth can be found.
We watch as she jumps over holes in her mind, seeking to unburden herself by bringing to light the experiences she went through and how she ended up in her mental and physical imprisonment.
Yeates is truly captivating to watch. Her face is full of the complexities of her emotions; pain flashes across her face and her bubbly, energetic persona severely contrasts the rawness her vulnerable moments.
Sometimes it felt unclear as to why some people get a voice and some voices we don’t hear at all. Additionally, times where there could have been an emotional or affecting moment where the audience are left with something to think about are lost regularly during the transitions between the past, present, and the narrator’s outside-of-time ruminations about worms and the human condition. Words that could hang in the air for a moment longer are buried under more exposition, and I often felt as though I was being told what to feel.
I did also feel that more nuance was lacking in the two main characters in the central relationship that is under the microscope during this play. I couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated with the lack of complexity; it felt like it was very much black or white. And perhaps this is right, given that it is the survivor’s story. However, as an outsider, I sometimes felt I wanted to be told less and for the writing to be more subtle at times – to allow for us to come to our own conclusions; perhaps as slowly as the protagonist does – for us to unravel the truth with her.
However, Jupp’s world building is strong. Imagery is powerful, and descriptions of people often made me feel as though they were whole. The humour in the script was quick, witty and executed expertly by Yeates, and was a welcome light within the darkness of the subject matter.
The most incredible moment was the use of physical theatre to depict the violence inflicted on our narrator. It was beautifully haunting, and the blue lighting and set design worked with the movement that whisked me away to another realm entirely.
Another stand-out moment was when she is asked her name towards the end of the play. No spoilers, but hats off to Yeates, who plays this beat superbly.
Wormholes is, on the whole, a compelling watch. It explores difficult themes and looks to platform the heartbreaking truth; that many people have lived through the same or have had very similar experiences to that of our narrator. It is a play in dialogue with the zeitgeist of today, where violence against women is regularly making headlines and survivor’s stories are buried under statistics.
The devices through which the story is told are sometimes predictable, but still effecting. Think Shutter Island meets Wildcard Theatre’s Ruckus. It is a human story that is bravely written and well executed, despite being a little prescriptive and on-the-nose at times.
Wormholes ultimately evokes these provocations:
What would it take for us all, as individuals, to lose our sense of self and reality?
How do we keep ourselves and our loved ones from experiencing domestic abuse?
How can we heal from trauma?
What are we truly capable of?
How does the mind protect us from our most unforgivable acts?
And to what end?
Great review, thank you.