Often described as one of Britain’s greatest living playwrights, Caryl Churchill returns to the Royal Court with her latest, much-anticipated opus. Love And Information is a typically thought-provoking and experimental piece that presents more than 100 characters (played by just 16 actors) in an explosion of short sketches and scenes.
This scattershot of vignettes feels like Churchill’s take on the information overload that bombards us as a result of the digital revolution and seemingly endless advances in technology. Very little is developed or explained, although certain themes, such as the ominous “Depression” reoccur throughout the evening. This is presumably a deliberate move on the part of Churchill; we only get a snippet of a conflict, a taster of a relationship, a single revelation or an observation.
Love and Information has the feel of a peep show: the audience are invited to take a peek into a range of unconnected British lives in the age of Google and channel-surfing. The appetite is whetted, curiosity aroused. In one scene, entitled “Torture”, we see two men discussing an offstage character who has got to the point “where he’ll say anything”. The implication is that these two men are taking a break from torturing someone, but the audience can’t be completely sure with the limited snapshot presented to them. In another; “Cold”, a character sneezes, and we move on. Love And Information pokes and teases just as much as it entertains and challenges.
Audiences who prefer kicking back in a dark auditorium and devouring plot might find the style opaque or frustrating; but others will rise to the test, embracing this dramatic puzzle with the dedication of a world Sudoku champion.
Love And Information is a kind of theatrical Rorschach blot. When chatting with fellow spectators in the Royal Court’s bar after the show it was clear no two people had quite the same interpretation of what they had seen. It is all down to how the individual brain understands and categorises the multitude of information hurled at it from the stage.
The action takes place within the confines of a neutral white box painted with black grid lines. Once a snippet is over, the box closes up, ready to open again and reveal the next portrait. Christopher Shutt’s sound design complements these scene changes; familiar ring tones and electronic alerts disturb the air, animals roar, birds tweet, pacey interim music conveys the merciless passing of time.
Miriam Buether’s sets are a delight to behold, a particular standout being a cricket green seen from an aerial view. In this scene an actor hung upside down for so long that the blood rushed to my head in sympathy. Add to this that he had to appear completely relaxed, as though lying on his back on the lawn on a balmy summer’s day, and you get an idea of the challenge he faced. A scene of an elderly couple in bed was again presented as if we were looking down on them from above, to great comic effect. These clever shifts in perspective served the play’s central themes well, casting the audience as voyeur and keeping things visually exciting.
If you’re looking for a show that will keep you talking and theorising long after the curtain falls, look no further than Love And Information.