Review: 1984

Big Brother prime time viewing


Aldous Huxley wrote to George Orwell in October 1949 to profess both his admiration and the grave significance of his contemporary’s masterpiece: “how fine and how profoundly important the book is”.

1984 is a big, bold, bollocking novel with weighty philosophical themes: were we in for yet another over-stretched student drama production?

With these reservations, I boarded the gangway towards the auditorium.

An oppressive red glare was omnipresent, a gigantic TV screen and big Stalinist drapes with the INGSOC logo took me aback: perhaps this performance was actually going to be something to write home about.

 

The first act captured instantly the claustrophobic, depersonalised dystopia of Oceania: the piece manipulated almost every theatrical tool available to it, attacking the performance and our senses with lighting, sound, blocking, choreography, IT, colour and levelling.

Technically it almost felt theme-parkish, but in a good way. A great mixture of cheap thrills and heavy academic stuff.

 

I would go so far as to say that 1984 is brought to the Keble O’Reilly stage this Trinity with nothing less than theatrical brilliance, so much so that I couldn’t have cared less for a few missed queues and prop slip-ups (the bed actually fell apart half way through).

Special attention must be paid to Harley Viveash and Freddy Bowerman for their awesome performances: the second half was the real stand-out, and they made it so.

It was heart-thumping and edgy: and so, so kinky. I’ve never been so turned on and disgusted at myself in all my life (well, maybe).

 

The gritty, sexual, carnal appetite of the play forced it from a 4 stars technically strong, well-put together student production, into a 5 stars game-changer. Let’s just say, I needed a cigarette afterwards.

Practising their Park End moves

If you want a high-paced sensory heartache or an existential crisis then I would thoroughly put my name on the line and recommend this play.

I cried, laughed, cringed, and almost pissed myself. Not for the faint hearted.