Who is Fergus Kilpatrick, by Jose Miguel Jimenez, is a Russian Doll of a story. Each sequence brings out a different version of the same concept, that being the play of our engagement in and out of the illusion of story. The piece opens with a faux investigation by a panel into a faux documentary to assert if it is real or not, then goes into the 'actor's' rehearsal process to become that panel, but that rehearsal is then shown to be part of the script itself and so on. The production values are slick; the speed of play fast and energetic, and the faux movies are very well put together. Clearly, a lot of thought, time and energy went into this work. Project sheets line the side walls showing all the various combinations and sequences used, like a brilliant, eccentric professor's plan for some strange machine. The cast put in a game effort and seem to thoroughly enjoy themselves. Brian Bennet makes a great mimic of actor's affectations and brings some welcome humour into the piece. But when the audience figures out (very quickly) that the documentary is a device for the fictional panel and they in turn are part of the game, nothing after that comes as a surprise.So rather than reverse expectations and play with the audience's view of what's unfolding on stage (assuming that's what is intended), the work becomes an intellectual exercise for the conceivers (director, writer, actors) but not for the audience. In fact, I felt as if I was in the wings of the stage, watching the action passively with little engagement. Most telling, is the ending where the actors sit on chairs on stage, turn away from us, and watch a montage of themselves made of random photographs, chiefly of themselves as children. As they sat, engrossed in their own image, our attention shifted from the screen to the actors - watching them watch themselves - we faded into darkness as that essential connection between audience and the stage was finally and completely severed.
