Science fiction as a genre takes many forms. It can have its roots in fantasy, transporting the reader to parallel worlds. On the other hand, it can serve as a warning to humanity, attempting to preemptively prevent catastrophic events from unfolding — 1984, for example.
Dystopian warning for humanity, with a pulsating techno beat
We meet Rey (Jake Mace), a 20-something queer nightclubber. Rey’s best friend, Robin, appears to be embarking on a polyamorous relationship. Rey's friend Flora has an almost omniscient quality. Rey is on a mission: to drink, take substances, dance, and maybe more. They spot a figure to whom they are instantly drawn, the object of desire, yet it remains out of reach in this labyrinthine building.
As the club pulsates with swathes of movement, noise, and energy, Rey is influenced by various factors (people, substances) and is a swirl of emotions — excitement, liberalism, hedonism, and confusion. But are they seeking something more?
Rey’s experience in the nightclub is constantly overlaid by Big Brother-style messages that say, “This is not the place,” disorienting and disturbing them, especially given their predilection for Talking Heads’ Naïve Melody. Is this a drug-induced trip?
Deeptime Atomic Waste Pleasure Party is not all it seems, though. The production is, in fact, set sometime in the future, and as the narrative unfolds, we learn that there has been a nuclear and environmental catastrophe. Those humans who have survived now live in a strictly controlled environment, where basic Geiger counters are mandatory. It’s all a little dystopian.
Rey has been selected by an unspecified power to act as an emissary; it turns out that hedonism was not their sole mission. Nuclear waste has been buried deep underground, but there is an outlying community, the Tinkerers, who do not accept the dangers of unearthing this deep-lying atomic waste — analogous, perhaps, to the current-day anti-vax movement.
This production is startling and unsettling, especially the repetitive and invasive nature of the interspersed messages. There are many themes touched upon or explored, including consent. Rey’s desire to fit in — to gain access to the nightclub, only achieved with Flora’s help — is undoubtedly a prism through which the queer community’s desire to simply belong and be accepted is reflected.
The production falters slightly in the middle, as we are challenged to keep up with the ever-shifting narrative. However, Jake Mace is an extremely gifted and charismatic storyteller, whose performance remains unwavering. Mike Dorey’s direction is sharp, and the pace relentless. With a small amount of tuning, there is an award-winning production here.
God is in the big and the small. Is this a warning about the fragility of mankind’s existence? Or is it a piece about choices and belonging? It can, of course, be both. Perhaps the world can accept a little fluidity. This is a very fine performance with vital societal messages.
