“This … play reaches the heights it does thanks to Janet Andersen’s performance.“
Suzanne Mackay
4/5 Stars
The Old Fitz
To 1st April
‘Collapsible’ begins in the dark. I’m aware Essie is there, I can hear and feel her but can only make out a shadowy figure – tall, lean and both imposing and delicate. The first light I see is the glow of a smart phone smack bang in her face and this immediately puts the piece in a time and place. This glow is the modern day fake tan, the look that is synonymous with the new young things – the 70s had their flares, the 80s aforementioned fake tan and permed madness, and 90s their grungy Doc Martin vibe – then Essie tells us who she is. Or rather, she tells us who everyone else says she is. She starts with ‘Online Essie’, who is a culmination of all the social personality tests – the animal, Hogwarts House, sitcom character, colour, number, condiment that add together to tell her, maybe, who she is. Once she’s pushed the limit of the inter webs she searches through her friends and family asking them all the same question; what am I like?
You see, Essie has lost her job, it’s unclear whether she lost it or it lost her but either way, she’s flailing. Her girlfriend’s gone and under the guise of preparing for job interviews she embarks on a quest to fill the black holes in her sense of self. She lists down the words that people use to describe her and carries the list with her, repeating it like a mantra to ensure she doesn’t disappear like a scene from the videos which keep flashing across the back of the stage. This search for identity is an interesting juxtaposition for a generation who adamantly refuse to be labelled yet demand to be defined.
This mostly monologue play reaches the heights it does thanks to Janet Andersen’s performance. She shifts from protagonist to the array of antagonists she confronts each day, subtly and seamlessly. She’s able to reach across the gender divide without us even noticing that it’s there and just as quickly, she’s back again. The video is used to great effect, it isn’t obtrusive and has a purpose in the one-woman show and her performance sits just on the right side of the pretty and young hot mess trope which is a relief because it gives her more depth to play with. However, I would argue this wasn’t used to the full extent it could have been. The script has a little fat which could be trimmed off of it which might give the piece a little more light and shade, so the Essie we see at the end is demonstrably different from the one we see under her phones glare and rather than just spiralling, we can see and fully understand the gradual descent into existential crisis. The light and shade could endear the audience even more to Essie’s plight, but this is a small criticism which could make a great performance even better, it may happen organically as the season continues anyway.
The final scene brings an interruption, which is all I can say without spoiling it, which is the perfect conclusion to the show. The closing moment is pitch perfect in its pace and energy and perhaps allows us to see the real Essie, if just for a minute.
Suzanne Mackay, Theatre Now
Photo credit: Phil Erbacher
