REVIEW: Adrift at The Space Theatre 4 October – 7 October

"Eerie and unknowable like alien worlds, Adrift is somehow both claustrophobic and expansive, intimate and isolating." ★★★★

In Adrift by Konstancja Kendall, we’re cast off into the psychological horrors of deep space after a fatal disaster aboard the SS Glade. Having managed to escape onto a cargo ship, lowly technician Eli (Alfie Ford) is now stranded and alone among the stars in this impressive one-act, two-hander.

Throughout the first third or so, we witness Eli’s agonising desire for intimacy and an increasing descent into slobbery, as his only companion, a disembodied AI called Ada (Meeri Aro / Konstancja Kendall), attempts to keep him alive. It’s an interesting exploration of intense loneliness, and how we behave when we have nothing to live for and think nobody is looking. Both Kendall’s writing and Ford’s performance do a good job of taking us into that unsettling mindset and conjuring up the terrifying emptiness of space, inside and out. Between the set and the sound, this is a very atmospheric piece with a cold metallic touch.

Adrift is chiefly about the developing relationship between Eli and Ada, which grows deeper and more intimate in the second section of the piece when she becomes able to occupy a human body. The pace is kept up deceptively well here, with the speed of a quiet thriller, and the whole thing structured very nicely into thirds. Each step of the way, we’re confronted with new ethical dilemmas. Should they wipe the consciousness of a rescued crewmate to accommodate Ada’s? Is Ada actually capable of love and desire? I found this segment particularly effective, gripping and eerie, with some very real illustrations of where desperation can take us. 

In the final third, we’re introduced to a mirrored sub-plot concerning sexual assault. Rather than it being left ambiguous though, it becomes unequivocal, and because this revelation completely upends our perception of one of the characters, I’m personally in two minds about whether that starts to cloud the one big question underpinning it all, a question asked by Ada herself: how will we treat and interact with AI? Who is the more defective – humanity or technology? Who do we trust? Flawed, emotional humans or impenetrably complex AIs? Nevertheless, it’s clever, raw, and satisfying, and it does add depth to what otherwise might be well-trodden territory.

Overall, this is an excellent piece of theatre, and special credit should be given to both the lighting and sound designers, who, combined, have created a dynamic and immersive experience from start to finish. Fantastic. The direction is also superb, engaging and professional, spilling over an effectively deployed thrust stage, so it's an absolutely great job by director Lewis Maines too.

But it’s in its atmosphere that it really excels. Together, Hagstone Theatre have created something as haunting as the blue sunsets on Mars. Eerie and unknowable like alien worlds, Adrift is somehow both claustrophobic and expansive, intimate and isolating. It serves as a ghostly reminder that of all the horrifying things out there in the cosmos, there is nothing more mysterious than the human mind.

Adrift by Konstancja Kendall

Directed by Lewis Maines

The Space Theatre, 4 October – 7 October

Box Office: https://space.org.uk/event/adrift/

Reviewed by Alix Owen