Full press reviews
Burrell Theatre, Truro
Review by Lee Trewhela
This play could so easily be marketed as "the one with the robot". Ingenious, yes, but there's so much more to Spillikin. In fact, I would go as far as to say - Kneehigh's Tristan and Yseult excepted - this is the best play I've seen that's been written and produced in Cornwall. Despite the AI factor, this is an incredibly human story and one that is brilliantly written, acted and designed.
Sally is suffering from Alzheimer's, she thinks "brainiac" husband Raymond is away at a robotics conference. But he's dead. Spillikin opens with one of his colleagues from "the department" installing a robot in her home, where the unseen carer with the fat arms sees to her everyday needs. It soon becomes apparent that the robot is an extension of her husband; a different kind of carer who gently provokes memories and language to aid her memory. Raymond has succumbed to a terminal condition, which started off with him spilling things but led to a slow death in a wheelchair; he had become the spillikin of the title. Sally was equally in thrall to him and frustrated by what he had become; a "wanker" in her, often harsh, words.
Their burgeoning love is told through Sally's fractured memory with remarkable, naturalistic performances by Hannah Stephens and Michael Tonkin-Jones as the young Sally and Raymond. Following brilliant turns in Pipeline's equally superb and moving Transports and Miracle's The Tempest, Stephens is surely destined for mighty things. She has a gift for playing characters that are sassy and, Raymond's accusation here, "facetious" but all the time showing their vulnerability. She is a mesmerising force.
Tonkin-Jones is her equal - playing a delightfully nerdy computer geek but with a sly sense of humour, his Raymond attracts the precocious Sally precisely because they are both outsiders and he sees her for what she really is - a confused girl on the cusp of adulthood.
Their performances, coupled with a humorous and realistically profane script by Jon Welch, make their blossoming tale of awkward young love the most engaging relationship I've ever seen in a Cornish production.
But let's not forget Judy Norman as the older Sally, her nuanced performance from rage and confusion to childlike adoration and wistfulness is stunning. Her final scene as she emerges wizened, shaking and barely able to speak is heartbreaking - I had to look away.
Sally's gradual decline while her android "husband" sits passive and never-changing is cleverly told through a slowly mutating bookshelf behind her. Pipeline's stage design has always been as much a part of the action as the acting. Hats off to Jude and Alan Munden for this. Alan is also very impressive as Tim, the robotics engineer.
Finally, to the robot - made in collaboration with leading Penryn-based robotics company Engineered Arts, who have created the ground-breaking Robothespian. There will be an internal "wow" when you first see "him" and his full range of expressive features and movements. I can guarantee that come the end you will have forgotten it's a robot. The idea of a robot singing Chet Baker's My Funny Valentine is ludicrous on paper. Wait until you see it on stage, though ....
To quote Blondie, whose music soundtracks the play, "one way or another" you must see this; theatre at its best which by rights should play to bigger audiences in the West End.
http://www.westbriton.co.uk/review-8203-groundbreaking-robothespian-has-a-leading-role-in-best-play-produced-in-cornwall/story-29833164-detail/whatson/story.html
Edinburgh 20015
British Theatre Guide
Philip Fisher
*****
Spillikin is a love story like no other. That is because what would otherwise be a very good play gets an extra dimension due to the presence of a robot made by Will Jackson that must be at the cutting edge of today’s technology.
By 2029 when the play is set, perhaps this kind of thing will be normal but this super-gadget speaks and moves its facial muscles and eyes like one of us.
The reason for its presence is very sad. Helen Ryan’s elderly Sally has advanced dementia. Her beloved husband Raymond has died after suffering from a motor neurone disease for years. However, with time to plan, he has left behind the legacy of a robot loaded up with his memory.
While this can be irritating for her, it is far more frequently a comfort as words and memories become increasingly hard to recover.
This would be more than enough material for a serviceable Edinburgh play, but Jon Welch overlays the touching history of Sally and Raymond 50 years before to act as a complement.
In flashbacks, Anna Munden plays the Blondie-loving wild child who finds herself unexpectedly attracted to a nerd played by Michael Tonkin-Jones who cannot believe his luck in meeting a bright if reckless beauty.
This is a perfectly constructed and superbly acted play that sheds much light on both the difficulties of young love and the frustration of illness and diminution of mental powers in old age.
Do try to catch it during this run or hope for a subsequent tour, which would be richly deserved.
http://www.britishtheatreguide.info/reviews/spillikin-pleasance-dome-11941
The Edinburgh Guide
Ken Scott
*****
The human design has flaws. Hearts break, memory fades, bodies fail and ultimately nothing lasts infinitely.
In her book-lined home elderly Sally is meeting a new companion, a robot built for her by her husband, Raymond and programmed with his memories. Sally’s memory is like a ... you know what? Even the post-it notes stuck to the shelves have started to lose their meaning.
The one thing that she remembers, the last thing that she will forget, is their wedding - an impossibly young couple holding a rebellious reception in a Wimpy Bar.
In flashback we see the first meeting of the young couple. She a facetious, fiery girl who finds life unutterably boring and has no direction other than wanting to be punk icon Debbie Harry. He a socially inadequate “braniac” who puts his energy into building simple robots.
“How are you feeling Sally?” asks the robot, distracting her from fretting about things that she has lost - the phone, the date. And she can’t find Raymond.
As the seasons pass her relationship with the robot changes, it starts to become Raymond, now talking about “our” wedding but she is unravelling, fracturing, frustrated that the words are running away from her. Behind her the books on the shelves seem to thin. As she recalls more of the scenes from their former life we can witness Alzheimer’s disease stripping away her self-worth, projecting her adolescent insecurities as a quitter, a dummkopf , not worthy of her mad inventor husband.
Whilst it remains a romantic tale there is an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with a childless marriage that might not have been perfect. While she recognises the robot as an imposter, who is she directing the invective at when she declares “him” cold?
In the end its an astonishing piece of theatre that allows a box of blinking lights and whirring gears to move us fallible humans to tears.
This cleverly written piece brings added depth and a clear understanding of the stages of dementia to what could be a fairly simple love story. Great performances and high quality staging and design (including projections and of course the robot) make this a production to remember.
http://www.edinburghguide.com/festival/2015/theatre/drama/spillikinalovestorypleasancedomereview-16139
Ken Scott
*****
The human design has flaws. Hearts break, memory fades, bodies fail and ultimately nothing lasts infinitely.
In her book-lined home elderly Sally is meeting a new companion, a robot built for her by her husband, Raymond and programmed with his memories. Sally’s memory is like a ... you know what? Even the post-it notes stuck to the shelves have started to lose their meaning.
The one thing that she remembers, the last thing that she will forget, is their wedding - an impossibly young couple holding a rebellious reception in a Wimpy Bar.
In flashback we see the first meeting of the young couple. She a facetious, fiery girl who finds life unutterably boring and has no direction other than wanting to be punk icon Debbie Harry. He a socially inadequate “braniac” who puts his energy into building simple robots.
“How are you feeling Sally?” asks the robot, distracting her from fretting about things that she has lost - the phone, the date. And she can’t find Raymond.
As the seasons pass her relationship with the robot changes, it starts to become Raymond, now talking about “our” wedding but she is unravelling, fracturing, frustrated that the words are running away from her. Behind her the books on the shelves seem to thin. As she recalls more of the scenes from their former life we can witness Alzheimer’s disease stripping away her self-worth, projecting her adolescent insecurities as a quitter, a dummkopf , not worthy of her mad inventor husband.
Whilst it remains a romantic tale there is an undercurrent of dissatisfaction with a childless marriage that might not have been perfect. While she recognises the robot as an imposter, who is she directing the invective at when she declares “him” cold?
In the end its an astonishing piece of theatre that allows a box of blinking lights and whirring gears to move us fallible humans to tears.
This cleverly written piece brings added depth and a clear understanding of the stages of dementia to what could be a fairly simple love story. Great performances and high quality staging and design (including projections and of course the robot) make this a production to remember.
http://www.edinburghguide.com/festival/2015/theatre/drama/spillikinalovestorypleasancedomereview-16139
Broadway Baby
Dixon Baskerville
*****
This show is a beautifully evocative and moving story of relationships, loss and the complexities and simplicities of love; it should not be missed.
Spillikin, expertly directed and written by Jon Welch, follows two periods in the life of Sally, a charming and rebellious woman who married her unlikely childhood companion, the child-genius Raymond. After Sally is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Raymond builds her a robot for company. Through the ever more intimate conversations between Sally and the robot, we are taken into the first blooming of her relationship with Raymond.
This touching account of the life-long love story of Sally is brought to life by Helen Ryan. Her consistently genuine portrayal of someone going through the final phases of Alzheimer’s, combined with the strength of the script will bring a tear to anyone’s eye who has experienced this disease in a loved one. A beautiful, touching performance.
Anna Munden as the young Sally absolutely embodies the life and soul of a rebellious conflicted teenager. Her flawless incarnation of the role is perfectly balanced, bringing bouts of laughter in all the right places while evoking empathy for a confused girl growing into womanhood. She counterbalances Ryan’s performance well, still able to have magnetic stage presence in the quieter moments.
The companion of the beautiful young Sally is Michael Tonkin-Jones, playing the youthful Raymond. He takes on this youthfulness with skill. His portrayal of the socially awkward and love-struck boffin is at times hilarious while providing a nice counterbalance to Munden’s visceral punk. Alan Munden – as well as building the immaculate set – plays the occasionally appearing Jonas, the technical support for the Robot and Raymond's co-worker and friend. His easy naturalism adds wonderfully soft interludes to the sometimes conflictual conversation of Sally with the Robot.
Jude Munden, the other co-designer, summons up graceful scene changes with the use of projection and a soothing soundtrack. These have the effect of not only making the scene changes go smoothly but adding to the atmosphere of the house with the passing of time.
Dare I say Robothespian played the role of the Robot somewhat… Robotically?
This show is a beautifully evocative and moving story of relationships, loss and the complexities and simplicities of love; it should not be missed. I fully expect to see this transfer as soon as the festival ends.
http://www.broadwaybaby.com/shows/spillikin-a-love-story/706306
Dixon Baskerville
*****
This show is a beautifully evocative and moving story of relationships, loss and the complexities and simplicities of love; it should not be missed.
Spillikin, expertly directed and written by Jon Welch, follows two periods in the life of Sally, a charming and rebellious woman who married her unlikely childhood companion, the child-genius Raymond. After Sally is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, Raymond builds her a robot for company. Through the ever more intimate conversations between Sally and the robot, we are taken into the first blooming of her relationship with Raymond.
This touching account of the life-long love story of Sally is brought to life by Helen Ryan. Her consistently genuine portrayal of someone going through the final phases of Alzheimer’s, combined with the strength of the script will bring a tear to anyone’s eye who has experienced this disease in a loved one. A beautiful, touching performance.
Anna Munden as the young Sally absolutely embodies the life and soul of a rebellious conflicted teenager. Her flawless incarnation of the role is perfectly balanced, bringing bouts of laughter in all the right places while evoking empathy for a confused girl growing into womanhood. She counterbalances Ryan’s performance well, still able to have magnetic stage presence in the quieter moments.
The companion of the beautiful young Sally is Michael Tonkin-Jones, playing the youthful Raymond. He takes on this youthfulness with skill. His portrayal of the socially awkward and love-struck boffin is at times hilarious while providing a nice counterbalance to Munden’s visceral punk. Alan Munden – as well as building the immaculate set – plays the occasionally appearing Jonas, the technical support for the Robot and Raymond's co-worker and friend. His easy naturalism adds wonderfully soft interludes to the sometimes conflictual conversation of Sally with the Robot.
Jude Munden, the other co-designer, summons up graceful scene changes with the use of projection and a soothing soundtrack. These have the effect of not only making the scene changes go smoothly but adding to the atmosphere of the house with the passing of time.
Dare I say Robothespian played the role of the Robot somewhat… Robotically?
This show is a beautifully evocative and moving story of relationships, loss and the complexities and simplicities of love; it should not be missed. I fully expect to see this transfer as soon as the festival ends.
http://www.broadwaybaby.com/shows/spillikin-a-love-story/706306
The Guardian
(Preview review of show with technical failure)
****
“We’re having technical difficulties with the robot. He’s never done this before.”
Ah, Edinburgh. Thus a tantalising performance of Spillikin: A Love Story was prematurely curtailed. The robot – real, and disturbingly so – had by this point endeared himself to the audience, who, cheering him on, stayed to see if he could be resuscitated. I couldn’t wait to see the outcome because I had to see another play. But this wouldn’t stop me recommending Pipeline Theatre’s unique and intriguing production about an elderly woman struggling with dementia. This is in part because I would love to hear from anyone who sees the robot last an entire performance, but also because the play seemed to be a genuine one-off: a (perhaps unrealistically) ambitious project that relied on a director at the back of the room controlling an onstage robot thespian. If that isn’t the fringe in a sentence, I don’t know what is.
http://www.theguardian.com/stage/2015/aug/09/edinburgh-fringe-theatre-2015-review
Exeunt
Alice Saville
****
Spillikin is Raymond’s word for the degenerative disease that makes him send small objects flying, scattering shards of broken mugs in the flowerbeds. And, in director and writer Jon Welch’s heart-shattering drama about love and dementia, it also becomes the name for the robot that takes Raymond’s place after he dies, holding his wife Sally together as her memory breaks apart.
Helen Ryan’s extraordinary performance as Sally is at the emotional heart of this piece: she ages decades in a single hour, her face sagging and fading as her illness progresses. She starts out sharp, still stylish in a crisp white shirt, and frustrated at the robot that’s arrived to amuse her. But as she sinks further into dementia, she seems to breathe life into Spillikin through the warmth of her love for it, through her need for it to be something more than an automaton. And, Pinocchio-like, it becomes alive to her touch, its jerky gestures gaining a human vulnerability as she tenderly smoothes a blanket over its lap.
Even as Tokyo robotics specialists journey deeper into uncanny valley with ever more convincing androids, they can’t hope to improve on human actors any time soon – although they’re probably tidier to share a dressing room with. But robot maker Will Jackson has managed the impressive feat of creating a robot capable of radiating warmth from its light-up blue face, as well as embodying every teenagers’ wildest sci-fi fantasies.
Sally’s not surprised by the appearance of an android companion that encourages her to reminisce, or play silly games of Eye Spy, in an electronic model of the kind of endlessly patient care that humans can find too painful to give. We see through flashbacks to forty years ago that her husband Raymond was a robotics specialist who first charmed her with a rudimentary moving toy as she waited for her piano lesson. Although this isn’t quite as charming as it might sound: what lends Sally’s character vitality, as well as poignancy, is the spikiness of her younger self. “I’m horrible”, says her present day self, remembering the scorn which she treated the piano teacher’s nerdy son with – before they married, half for a lark.
Sally’s younger self is a Debbie Harry-obsessed, swearing teenager who Anna Munden plays with the desperate energy of a caged monkey, flinging itself against the bars. She and Raymond are a couple as unlikely as their eventual choice of wedding reception venue: a Wimpy Bar, with champagne in styrofoam cups. Michael Tonkin-Jones performance as a lovestruck, robot-obsessed teenage Raymond is uncomfortably truthful. We squirm alongside him as he haplessly tells her, daunted by her sexual experience, that “holding hands is better for my money”.
Forty years on, and holding hands is all that’s left. Sally’s untethering from reality leaves her unsure where memory ends and robot begins – but it’s an ethical quandary she greets calmly, however much the audience might struggle with it. We see her memories leave her, chunk by chunk, as rows of books are invisibly removed from the shelves of the study walls behind her. It’s a device that could seem hackneyed, but when overlaid with co-designers Alan and Jude Munden’s stark projections of barer and barer landscapes, is actually gently moving.
But then Welch’s whole play is an exercise in making what must be extremely complicated seem very, very simple. Spillikin is an unlikely triumph: a finely-tuned technological equation that pays out in pure emotional power.
http://exeuntmagazine.com/reviews/spillikin/
Alice Saville
****
Spillikin is Raymond’s word for the degenerative disease that makes him send small objects flying, scattering shards of broken mugs in the flowerbeds. And, in director and writer Jon Welch’s heart-shattering drama about love and dementia, it also becomes the name for the robot that takes Raymond’s place after he dies, holding his wife Sally together as her memory breaks apart.
Helen Ryan’s extraordinary performance as Sally is at the emotional heart of this piece: she ages decades in a single hour, her face sagging and fading as her illness progresses. She starts out sharp, still stylish in a crisp white shirt, and frustrated at the robot that’s arrived to amuse her. But as she sinks further into dementia, she seems to breathe life into Spillikin through the warmth of her love for it, through her need for it to be something more than an automaton. And, Pinocchio-like, it becomes alive to her touch, its jerky gestures gaining a human vulnerability as she tenderly smoothes a blanket over its lap.
Even as Tokyo robotics specialists journey deeper into uncanny valley with ever more convincing androids, they can’t hope to improve on human actors any time soon – although they’re probably tidier to share a dressing room with. But robot maker Will Jackson has managed the impressive feat of creating a robot capable of radiating warmth from its light-up blue face, as well as embodying every teenagers’ wildest sci-fi fantasies.
Sally’s not surprised by the appearance of an android companion that encourages her to reminisce, or play silly games of Eye Spy, in an electronic model of the kind of endlessly patient care that humans can find too painful to give. We see through flashbacks to forty years ago that her husband Raymond was a robotics specialist who first charmed her with a rudimentary moving toy as she waited for her piano lesson. Although this isn’t quite as charming as it might sound: what lends Sally’s character vitality, as well as poignancy, is the spikiness of her younger self. “I’m horrible”, says her present day self, remembering the scorn which she treated the piano teacher’s nerdy son with – before they married, half for a lark.
Sally’s younger self is a Debbie Harry-obsessed, swearing teenager who Anna Munden plays with the desperate energy of a caged monkey, flinging itself against the bars. She and Raymond are a couple as unlikely as their eventual choice of wedding reception venue: a Wimpy Bar, with champagne in styrofoam cups. Michael Tonkin-Jones performance as a lovestruck, robot-obsessed teenage Raymond is uncomfortably truthful. We squirm alongside him as he haplessly tells her, daunted by her sexual experience, that “holding hands is better for my money”.
Forty years on, and holding hands is all that’s left. Sally’s untethering from reality leaves her unsure where memory ends and robot begins – but it’s an ethical quandary she greets calmly, however much the audience might struggle with it. We see her memories leave her, chunk by chunk, as rows of books are invisibly removed from the shelves of the study walls behind her. It’s a device that could seem hackneyed, but when overlaid with co-designers Alan and Jude Munden’s stark projections of barer and barer landscapes, is actually gently moving.
But then Welch’s whole play is an exercise in making what must be extremely complicated seem very, very simple. Spillikin is an unlikely triumph: a finely-tuned technological equation that pays out in pure emotional power.
http://exeuntmagazine.com/reviews/spillikin/
The Scotsman
Sally Stott
****
When you die, would you like to be replaced by a robot version of yourself? It’s a question that this piece of genuinely innovative theatre makes you consider through the story of a roboticist, Raymond, who has decided to do just that in order to help his wife, Sally, cope with his impending death and her encroaching dementia. We meet her as she’s facing the challenge of adapting to life with a piece of technology in place of her husband.
Through a collaboration with Engineered Arts, a Cornwall-based robotics company, Pipeline Theatre have taken sci-fi theatre to a bold new level. While the story, partly told through flashbacks – of a couple’s relationship challenged by physical illness – is more familiar, the addition of a robot surrogate raises all kinds of questions surrounding our desire to live forever, delay mortality and ensure our loved ones are properly cared for.
As Sally’s condition worsens, she is simultaneously confused and comforted by her robot husband, as he constantly asks her what year it is, if she remembers their wedding day or wants to play I Spy. They’re clearly the pre-recorded sentences that a man preparing for death thinks might be useful but are, in reality, a cold and distant version of the human being he once was.
Helen Ryan gives a very strong performance as the defiant Sally, refusing to give in to illness.
A touching but tragic conclusion is undeniably moving, as a woman with a love of words gradually loses them.
http://www.wow247.co.uk/2015/08/08/the-scotsman-fringe-awards-are-back-featuring-janis-joplin/
Sally Stott
****
When you die, would you like to be replaced by a robot version of yourself? It’s a question that this piece of genuinely innovative theatre makes you consider through the story of a roboticist, Raymond, who has decided to do just that in order to help his wife, Sally, cope with his impending death and her encroaching dementia. We meet her as she’s facing the challenge of adapting to life with a piece of technology in place of her husband.
Through a collaboration with Engineered Arts, a Cornwall-based robotics company, Pipeline Theatre have taken sci-fi theatre to a bold new level. While the story, partly told through flashbacks – of a couple’s relationship challenged by physical illness – is more familiar, the addition of a robot surrogate raises all kinds of questions surrounding our desire to live forever, delay mortality and ensure our loved ones are properly cared for.
As Sally’s condition worsens, she is simultaneously confused and comforted by her robot husband, as he constantly asks her what year it is, if she remembers their wedding day or wants to play I Spy. They’re clearly the pre-recorded sentences that a man preparing for death thinks might be useful but are, in reality, a cold and distant version of the human being he once was.
Helen Ryan gives a very strong performance as the defiant Sally, refusing to give in to illness.
A touching but tragic conclusion is undeniably moving, as a woman with a love of words gradually loses them.
http://www.wow247.co.uk/2015/08/08/the-scotsman-fringe-awards-are-back-featuring-janis-joplin/
The Nouse
Amy Wong
****
Somewhat surprisingly for a show which boasts an impressive piece of technology,Spillikin: A Love Story is a very much a play about humans – the way they form emotional attachments and the way they process memories. The play focuses on Alzheimer’s sufferer Sally (Helen Ryan) as she reminisces about her early relationship with husband Raymond, who builds a robot to keep her company after he dies. Spillikin: A Love Story could have easily been written as an overly moralistic piece about the dangers of humans developing unhealthy dependencies on technology. However, the RoboThespian (as christened by its creators, Engineered Arts) is used sparingly and is never relied on as the show’s only way of impressing the audience.
Ryan gives a faultless performance as the older Sally and her interactions with the RoboThespian – affectionately named Spillikin – feel natural. The show’s technology is integrated seamlessly into the play, with projections also being used effectively. The stage’s design demonstrates an impressive attention to detail. Mini-model robots stand on the shelves between the books and a couple of the files are marked ‘NME’, a thoughtful nod to Sally’s journalism career.
Anna Munden and Michael Tonkin-Jones provide plenty of laughs as the younger Sally and Raymond, with Tonkin-Jones giving a particularly strong performance. If watching a socially awkward geek and a rebellious pretty girl fall in love feels familiar, Munden and Tonkin-Jones play the fictional romance trope with more sincerity than most so that you really care about the progression of their relationship. The pair share a sweet chemistry and it’s a joy to watch them on stage as their characters’ relationship unfolds.
The way Sally and Raymond’s story is told isn’t exactly new either. However, having Munden, Tonkin-Jones and Ryan on stage at the same time does emphasise the tragic nature of Sally’s mental deterioration and the impact of Raymond’s absence. Watching the younger Sally and Raymond grow more hopeful as the play progresses when you know what the future holds for them is sure to bring you to tears. Ryan does a fantastic job of retaining the feisty spark that Munden possesses as the younger Sally, making it believable that the two actors are playing the same character at different points in time.
The show’s greatest strength is that it has enough confidence in the audience’s intelligence to avoid spelling things out too explicitly. The problems attached to Spillikin’s existence are acknowledged but never forced on the audience. There’s no clumsily handled monologues or forced lines about why he’s a threat to society or why Raymond was wrong to build him. Raymond’s medical condition is handled with sensitivity but not sentimentality and a predictable emotional climax during which Sally might have had a breakdown after remembering the truth about Raymond’s whereabouts, is thankfully avoided. The most poignant moment in Spillikin: A Love Story is ironically also its happiest moment as the play’s two storylines both reach their conclusion.
Spillikin: A Love Story is a beautifully constructed play performed by an outstanding cast. Writer Jon Welch demonstrates a rare understanding of the complexity of human nature while the RoboThespian never feels gimmicky. It’s almost impossible to fault Spillikin: A Love Story – Pipeline Theatre are definitely a company to keep an eye on in the future.
http://www.nouse.co.uk/2015/08/24/edinburgh-fringe-2015-review-spillikin-a-love-story/
Amy Wong
****
Somewhat surprisingly for a show which boasts an impressive piece of technology,Spillikin: A Love Story is a very much a play about humans – the way they form emotional attachments and the way they process memories. The play focuses on Alzheimer’s sufferer Sally (Helen Ryan) as she reminisces about her early relationship with husband Raymond, who builds a robot to keep her company after he dies. Spillikin: A Love Story could have easily been written as an overly moralistic piece about the dangers of humans developing unhealthy dependencies on technology. However, the RoboThespian (as christened by its creators, Engineered Arts) is used sparingly and is never relied on as the show’s only way of impressing the audience.
Ryan gives a faultless performance as the older Sally and her interactions with the RoboThespian – affectionately named Spillikin – feel natural. The show’s technology is integrated seamlessly into the play, with projections also being used effectively. The stage’s design demonstrates an impressive attention to detail. Mini-model robots stand on the shelves between the books and a couple of the files are marked ‘NME’, a thoughtful nod to Sally’s journalism career.
Anna Munden and Michael Tonkin-Jones provide plenty of laughs as the younger Sally and Raymond, with Tonkin-Jones giving a particularly strong performance. If watching a socially awkward geek and a rebellious pretty girl fall in love feels familiar, Munden and Tonkin-Jones play the fictional romance trope with more sincerity than most so that you really care about the progression of their relationship. The pair share a sweet chemistry and it’s a joy to watch them on stage as their characters’ relationship unfolds.
The way Sally and Raymond’s story is told isn’t exactly new either. However, having Munden, Tonkin-Jones and Ryan on stage at the same time does emphasise the tragic nature of Sally’s mental deterioration and the impact of Raymond’s absence. Watching the younger Sally and Raymond grow more hopeful as the play progresses when you know what the future holds for them is sure to bring you to tears. Ryan does a fantastic job of retaining the feisty spark that Munden possesses as the younger Sally, making it believable that the two actors are playing the same character at different points in time.
The show’s greatest strength is that it has enough confidence in the audience’s intelligence to avoid spelling things out too explicitly. The problems attached to Spillikin’s existence are acknowledged but never forced on the audience. There’s no clumsily handled monologues or forced lines about why he’s a threat to society or why Raymond was wrong to build him. Raymond’s medical condition is handled with sensitivity but not sentimentality and a predictable emotional climax during which Sally might have had a breakdown after remembering the truth about Raymond’s whereabouts, is thankfully avoided. The most poignant moment in Spillikin: A Love Story is ironically also its happiest moment as the play’s two storylines both reach their conclusion.
Spillikin: A Love Story is a beautifully constructed play performed by an outstanding cast. Writer Jon Welch demonstrates a rare understanding of the complexity of human nature while the RoboThespian never feels gimmicky. It’s almost impossible to fault Spillikin: A Love Story – Pipeline Theatre are definitely a company to keep an eye on in the future.
http://www.nouse.co.uk/2015/08/24/edinburgh-fringe-2015-review-spillikin-a-love-story/
The List
David Kettle
****
For a show in which a quarter of the cast is permanently plugged into the mains, Spillikin must have one of the biggest, warmest hearts on the Fringe. With an on-stage robot as one of its stars, it combines technical trickery with a subtle story of love in the twilight years.
Spillikin – A Love StoryRobot actor takes centre stage in a moving drama on dementia and long-term love
Sally and Raymond first meet as awkward teenagers – he a technology-obsessed geek, she a brittle flirt who covers up her insecurities with venomous sarcasm. During their long and not uneventful marriage, Raymond constructs a robot – programmed with his own personality and memories – to care for his ageing wife when he’s no longer around. But when her increasing Alzheimer’s leads Sally to confuse robot Raymond with the (now deceased) real thing, things get complicated.
Writer-director Jon Welch and Cornish company Pipeline Theatre have created a powerful, moving love story from the unlikely collision of dementia and artificial intelligence. Welch might shy away from asking ethical questions about robots replacing humans in intimate relationships, or indeed about their limitations in dementia care, but he focuses with touching sincerity on the fragility of human hopes and disappointments in long-term love. Yet the idea behind this play is reflecting events in real life, as computer science is beginning to experiment with the kind of programming that once belonged in science-fiction.
Robothespian, created by robotics firm Engineered Arts, is a permanent presence on stage – and a good actor, too, with impeccable timing and a nice range of facial expressions. Yet the human actors are not overshadowed by the machine: Helen Ryan gives a superbly thoughtful, powerful performance as the increasingly confused Sally, and Michael Tonkin-Jones and Anna Munden play the young lovers with nicely toe-curling awkwardness.
While Spillikin brings up complex ideas about the nature of being, and the potential of artificial intelligence, it’s a delightful show – and one whose technical accomplishments are matched by its compassion.
http://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/article/73393-spillikin-a-love-story/
David Kettle
****
For a show in which a quarter of the cast is permanently plugged into the mains, Spillikin must have one of the biggest, warmest hearts on the Fringe. With an on-stage robot as one of its stars, it combines technical trickery with a subtle story of love in the twilight years.
Spillikin – A Love StoryRobot actor takes centre stage in a moving drama on dementia and long-term love
Sally and Raymond first meet as awkward teenagers – he a technology-obsessed geek, she a brittle flirt who covers up her insecurities with venomous sarcasm. During their long and not uneventful marriage, Raymond constructs a robot – programmed with his own personality and memories – to care for his ageing wife when he’s no longer around. But when her increasing Alzheimer’s leads Sally to confuse robot Raymond with the (now deceased) real thing, things get complicated.
Writer-director Jon Welch and Cornish company Pipeline Theatre have created a powerful, moving love story from the unlikely collision of dementia and artificial intelligence. Welch might shy away from asking ethical questions about robots replacing humans in intimate relationships, or indeed about their limitations in dementia care, but he focuses with touching sincerity on the fragility of human hopes and disappointments in long-term love. Yet the idea behind this play is reflecting events in real life, as computer science is beginning to experiment with the kind of programming that once belonged in science-fiction.
Robothespian, created by robotics firm Engineered Arts, is a permanent presence on stage – and a good actor, too, with impeccable timing and a nice range of facial expressions. Yet the human actors are not overshadowed by the machine: Helen Ryan gives a superbly thoughtful, powerful performance as the increasingly confused Sally, and Michael Tonkin-Jones and Anna Munden play the young lovers with nicely toe-curling awkwardness.
While Spillikin brings up complex ideas about the nature of being, and the potential of artificial intelligence, it’s a delightful show – and one whose technical accomplishments are matched by its compassion.
http://edinburghfestival.list.co.uk/article/73393-spillikin-a-love-story/
Fringe Guru
Lizzie Bell
****
Committed to be together in sickness and in health, Sally has cared for Raymond since his life-changing diagnosis. But then she too falls ill, and he doesn't want to leave her alone. {Spillikin} sees a real-world robot called Robothespian taking the stage as Raymond's creation, his last gift and companion for his wife. But can a machine with a husband's memories gain her trust and acceptance, and allow him to help her from beyond the grave?
A man with a computer bends over a robot in a wheelchair, sitting in Sally's front room; she can't remember his name, but he tells her he used to work with her husband. She asks if Raymond is at a conference, but the man avoids the question and boots the robot up. Announcing the time and date, the robot seamlessly completes the scene-setting, as machine and human are left alone to get to know each other.
Switching between the late 1970s and the near future, we see crucial moments from Raymond and Sally's life: how they meet, how they find out about cerebrospinal ataxia type III (their nickname for it being the titular Spillikin), how they become a journalist and an engineer and why on Earth their wedding reception was in a Wimpy. Though Sally "looses more and more words" and clearly gets more confused as time goes on, the dialogue remains engaging and cleverly avoids feeling repetitive. I especially loved the use of books, reflecting how more and more vocabulary escapes her as the shelves empty.
And perhaps surprisingly, the robot is no gimmick; while he never pretends to be human, his kindly expressive face and compassionate character help us warm to him. Within the world of the play, the same characteristics strongly underline the love of the creator for his ailing wife. His gentle questioning and enthusiasm for reminiscing will be familiar to anyone who has cared for someone with memory problems, while also cleverly serving to shift the action back to the 1970s.
It's a tear-jerking, beautiful and innovative show which explores love and loss, while touching on how technology can change our lives and relationships. And life with Alzheimer's is tackled exceptionally well - with Helen Ryan's powerful performance truly capturing the frustrations, anger and guilt of loosing yourself and taking it out on those closest to you.
http://edinburgh.fringeguru.com//reviews/edinburgh-2015/spillikin-a-love-story
Lizzie Bell
****
Committed to be together in sickness and in health, Sally has cared for Raymond since his life-changing diagnosis. But then she too falls ill, and he doesn't want to leave her alone. {Spillikin} sees a real-world robot called Robothespian taking the stage as Raymond's creation, his last gift and companion for his wife. But can a machine with a husband's memories gain her trust and acceptance, and allow him to help her from beyond the grave?
A man with a computer bends over a robot in a wheelchair, sitting in Sally's front room; she can't remember his name, but he tells her he used to work with her husband. She asks if Raymond is at a conference, but the man avoids the question and boots the robot up. Announcing the time and date, the robot seamlessly completes the scene-setting, as machine and human are left alone to get to know each other.
Switching between the late 1970s and the near future, we see crucial moments from Raymond and Sally's life: how they meet, how they find out about cerebrospinal ataxia type III (their nickname for it being the titular Spillikin), how they become a journalist and an engineer and why on Earth their wedding reception was in a Wimpy. Though Sally "looses more and more words" and clearly gets more confused as time goes on, the dialogue remains engaging and cleverly avoids feeling repetitive. I especially loved the use of books, reflecting how more and more vocabulary escapes her as the shelves empty.
And perhaps surprisingly, the robot is no gimmick; while he never pretends to be human, his kindly expressive face and compassionate character help us warm to him. Within the world of the play, the same characteristics strongly underline the love of the creator for his ailing wife. His gentle questioning and enthusiasm for reminiscing will be familiar to anyone who has cared for someone with memory problems, while also cleverly serving to shift the action back to the 1970s.
It's a tear-jerking, beautiful and innovative show which explores love and loss, while touching on how technology can change our lives and relationships. And life with Alzheimer's is tackled exceptionally well - with Helen Ryan's powerful performance truly capturing the frustrations, anger and guilt of loosing yourself and taking it out on those closest to you.
http://edinburgh.fringeguru.com//reviews/edinburgh-2015/spillikin-a-love-story
The Stage
Gerald Berkowitz
****
Pipeline Theatre offers not one but two lovely little romcom stories in this play by Jon Welch, but audiences will remember it primarily because of a prop.
An elderly woman slipping into dementia is a widow, though she does not fully realise it. Her husband was a brilliant pioneer in artificial intelligence and robotics, and his dying gift was a robot filled with his memories to keep her company.
She begins to confuse the machine with the man, and as a strangely believable warmth develops between them they sing together, play games and reminisce. This leads to a string of flashbacks in which we see the story of how husband and wife met, which is a second sweet little fable of the shy nerdy teenager and the pretty girl who is as surprised as he when she finds herself drawn to him.
Either story alone might be enough to carry a short play, and here they resonate against each other in attractive and heart-warming ways. With the playwright directing, there are excellent performances all around, not least by the robot, an actual mechanical construction who usually works as a museum host.
https://www.thestage.co.uk/reviews/2015/spillikin-love-story/
Gerald Berkowitz
****
Pipeline Theatre offers not one but two lovely little romcom stories in this play by Jon Welch, but audiences will remember it primarily because of a prop.
An elderly woman slipping into dementia is a widow, though she does not fully realise it. Her husband was a brilliant pioneer in artificial intelligence and robotics, and his dying gift was a robot filled with his memories to keep her company.
She begins to confuse the machine with the man, and as a strangely believable warmth develops between them they sing together, play games and reminisce. This leads to a string of flashbacks in which we see the story of how husband and wife met, which is a second sweet little fable of the shy nerdy teenager and the pretty girl who is as surprised as he when she finds herself drawn to him.
Either story alone might be enough to carry a short play, and here they resonate against each other in attractive and heart-warming ways. With the playwright directing, there are excellent performances all around, not least by the robot, an actual mechanical construction who usually works as a museum host.
https://www.thestage.co.uk/reviews/2015/spillikin-love-story/
Gigwise
chose Spillikin as Latitude Festival's
'Pick of day 2' with this review:
Could you love a humanoid robot?
Sally is a forgetful, foul-mouthed 60 or 70 something year-old woman who lives alone - until a humanoid robot moves in to keep her company. This story exists in the past and the present, drawing on Sally’s flash back memories played out through a split stage, shared with her 18-year-old self and 17-year-old Raymond, her future husband.
The two teenagers are an unlikely love match. Her, "arrogant and facetious”, a tear away who likes to think she could be the next Debbie Harry. Him, a "brainiac", into algorithms and algebra who prefers robots to humans; "robots are perfect, they never get ill”.
Their angsty awkwardness provides laugh out loud moments in an otherwise emotional tale. Music from Blondie intersects the scenes, at other times, trickling and crackling sounds create tension and intrigue. The script is purposefully and effectively repetitive, gradually and subtlety Sally’s story builds with moments of confusion, and word replacement takes the place of word remembrance as she becomes susceptible to human “design flaws”. Her interaction with the robot is aggressive and resistant initially, but jerkily subsides as emotional dependence sets in.
This fraught but fun story is gripping and provocative, not to be missed.
Spillikin, A Love Story will open at the Jack Dome at Edinburgh Fringe Festival 5-31 August.
chose Spillikin as Latitude Festival's
'Pick of day 2' with this review:
Could you love a humanoid robot?
Sally is a forgetful, foul-mouthed 60 or 70 something year-old woman who lives alone - until a humanoid robot moves in to keep her company. This story exists in the past and the present, drawing on Sally’s flash back memories played out through a split stage, shared with her 18-year-old self and 17-year-old Raymond, her future husband.
The two teenagers are an unlikely love match. Her, "arrogant and facetious”, a tear away who likes to think she could be the next Debbie Harry. Him, a "brainiac", into algorithms and algebra who prefers robots to humans; "robots are perfect, they never get ill”.
Their angsty awkwardness provides laugh out loud moments in an otherwise emotional tale. Music from Blondie intersects the scenes, at other times, trickling and crackling sounds create tension and intrigue. The script is purposefully and effectively repetitive, gradually and subtlety Sally’s story builds with moments of confusion, and word replacement takes the place of word remembrance as she becomes susceptible to human “design flaws”. Her interaction with the robot is aggressive and resistant initially, but jerkily subsides as emotional dependence sets in.
This fraught but fun story is gripping and provocative, not to be missed.
Spillikin, A Love Story will open at the Jack Dome at Edinburgh Fringe Festival 5-31 August.
Hall for Cornwall
Philly Byrde
In 2012, a Dutch care home made headlines with its innovative approach to dementia care. A gated model village, complete with shops staffed by carers, created a Truman Show-like cocoon for its residents. ‘It’s the fake reality that keeps [them] well,’ observed one of the founders, who fiercely defends their form of ‘all-day reminiscence therapy’.
But the false reality in Pipeline Theatre’s new show, Spillikin, is no mocked-up townhouse or model high street. Faced with the spectre of his own degenerative disease, Raymond – inventor and eternal archivist – has created a robot shored up with his own memories, to comfort his wife Sally when he is gone and she is in the grip of Alzheimer’s.
Separated by intervals of disjointed, static-laced music, scenes flicker between a not-too-distant future – where Sally meets her robot companion – and fizzing moments of first love and her marriage to Raymond.
Pipeline boldly test the implications of reminiscence as comfort, as companionship – or as an ethically dubious trick on the short-circuiting memories of those with dementia. It doesn’t offer easy answers, but leaves us with questions and flashbacks that are hard to shake from the mind.
And there is a real robot in the cast, courtesy of Will Jackson’s extraordinary creation, Robothespian. It’s a choice that could go either way – a gimmick included for the sake of it, or a piece of integrated technology earning its place onstage. Fortunately it’s very much the latter, although it takes some getting used to, as the hiss of hydraulics and the click of limbs initially threaten to distract from the subtlety of the drama.
Though faultless in movement and speech, never off cue, the robot is most revealing in its own limitations. This frozen snapshot of logical Raymond can’t process his beloved Sally’s infidelity. And its repeated questions (‘Shall we sing a song? Shall we talk about our wedding?’) start to smack of patronising care home speak. Ultimately – and Equity can breathe easy here – the robot works best as a powerful foil to the warmth of the human characterisation.
Mike Tonkin-Jones revels in the stiff-armed awkwardness of Young Raymond. He is eloquently uncomfortable in his own skin, only allowing himself to break out with a discreet boogie to Debbie Harry – and a comically explosive diatribe on the probability of being hit by falling pianos.
Anna Munden as Young Sally is deliberately casual to the point of monotone, yet she’s physically effervescent, a vibrant bundling together of everything youth encompasses. Her performance is a constant, poignant contrast to Helen Ryan’s Sally, herself a complex mix of fluttering Post It note forgetfulness and unfiltered, swearing anger and frustration.
The show’s heart-wrenching impact builds cumulatively in a steady emptying out of meaning, where Pipeline’s approach of developing design and text in tandem shows in every scene.
Jon Welch’s script is a beautiful work of lyrical unravelling. Individual words, loosed from their safely sentenced moorings, become poetic markers for secret worlds and shared experiences. (‘Design flaps’ comes to stand for ‘design flaws’; ‘fat arms’ neatly contains Sally’s anger at her care worker.)
And Alan and Jude Munden’s set design taps into that process, through a progressive emptying of its ordered bookshelves. The final, hollow space – where a life was once so lovingly archived – creates the most devastating backdrop possible for the closing film projection.
‘It happens to us all’ is the robot technician’s easy, throwaway refrain to Sally’s forgetfulness. Love – in its many forms – happens to us all, and our love stories are the piecing together of fragments, memories and carefully held illusions, creating a shared life despite each other’s design flaws. Spillikin is a funny, painful take on this – and bitingly true. Go and see this vital show.
Philly Byrde
In 2012, a Dutch care home made headlines with its innovative approach to dementia care. A gated model village, complete with shops staffed by carers, created a Truman Show-like cocoon for its residents. ‘It’s the fake reality that keeps [them] well,’ observed one of the founders, who fiercely defends their form of ‘all-day reminiscence therapy’.
But the false reality in Pipeline Theatre’s new show, Spillikin, is no mocked-up townhouse or model high street. Faced with the spectre of his own degenerative disease, Raymond – inventor and eternal archivist – has created a robot shored up with his own memories, to comfort his wife Sally when he is gone and she is in the grip of Alzheimer’s.
Separated by intervals of disjointed, static-laced music, scenes flicker between a not-too-distant future – where Sally meets her robot companion – and fizzing moments of first love and her marriage to Raymond.
Pipeline boldly test the implications of reminiscence as comfort, as companionship – or as an ethically dubious trick on the short-circuiting memories of those with dementia. It doesn’t offer easy answers, but leaves us with questions and flashbacks that are hard to shake from the mind.
And there is a real robot in the cast, courtesy of Will Jackson’s extraordinary creation, Robothespian. It’s a choice that could go either way – a gimmick included for the sake of it, or a piece of integrated technology earning its place onstage. Fortunately it’s very much the latter, although it takes some getting used to, as the hiss of hydraulics and the click of limbs initially threaten to distract from the subtlety of the drama.
Though faultless in movement and speech, never off cue, the robot is most revealing in its own limitations. This frozen snapshot of logical Raymond can’t process his beloved Sally’s infidelity. And its repeated questions (‘Shall we sing a song? Shall we talk about our wedding?’) start to smack of patronising care home speak. Ultimately – and Equity can breathe easy here – the robot works best as a powerful foil to the warmth of the human characterisation.
Mike Tonkin-Jones revels in the stiff-armed awkwardness of Young Raymond. He is eloquently uncomfortable in his own skin, only allowing himself to break out with a discreet boogie to Debbie Harry – and a comically explosive diatribe on the probability of being hit by falling pianos.
Anna Munden as Young Sally is deliberately casual to the point of monotone, yet she’s physically effervescent, a vibrant bundling together of everything youth encompasses. Her performance is a constant, poignant contrast to Helen Ryan’s Sally, herself a complex mix of fluttering Post It note forgetfulness and unfiltered, swearing anger and frustration.
The show’s heart-wrenching impact builds cumulatively in a steady emptying out of meaning, where Pipeline’s approach of developing design and text in tandem shows in every scene.
Jon Welch’s script is a beautiful work of lyrical unravelling. Individual words, loosed from their safely sentenced moorings, become poetic markers for secret worlds and shared experiences. (‘Design flaps’ comes to stand for ‘design flaws’; ‘fat arms’ neatly contains Sally’s anger at her care worker.)
And Alan and Jude Munden’s set design taps into that process, through a progressive emptying of its ordered bookshelves. The final, hollow space – where a life was once so lovingly archived – creates the most devastating backdrop possible for the closing film projection.
‘It happens to us all’ is the robot technician’s easy, throwaway refrain to Sally’s forgetfulness. Love – in its many forms – happens to us all, and our love stories are the piecing together of fragments, memories and carefully held illusions, creating a shared life despite each other’s design flaws. Spillikin is a funny, painful take on this – and bitingly true. Go and see this vital show.
The Cornishman
Fi Read
Being a technophobe, I was warily cautious about how I’d find Pipeline Theatre’s
latest production Spillikin a love story. I don’t ‘get’ gadgets, struggle with computers and am not keen on Sci Fi, so felt dubious about seeing a play which boasted a robot as one of its cast. But we’re talking Pipeline here, who have already raised the theatrical bar in terms of groundbreaking shows with their previous two productions: Transports and Streaming. Ok, the main theme didn’t exactly sound cheery: how a woman with Alzheimer’s tries to make sense of her increasingly fragmented world, with the assistance of a robotic substitute husband. However, with writer Jon Welch the man behind the words, I knew the material would be meticulously researched, the characters credible, and the story unflinchingly told. I was right. The actors didn’t disappoint either, with rising young starlet Anna Munden once again in a pivotal role as the young Sally. Offered a place at Bristol’s Old Vic, as well as being on RADA’s radar, expect to see Anna on the national stage and screen in the not too distant future.
The central character of Sally is played by established actress Helen Ryan, whose
moving performance of a woman with increasing memory loss and confusion felt
uncomfortably real; the frustration and anger at not being able to express herself, contrasting with the ‘lost lamb’ moments, instantly recognisable to anyone who knows someone living with this cruel and debilitating disease. Ostensibly a love story, the love in question spans decades and continues beyond the grave, thanks to Sally’s husband’s foresight to invent a replacement uploaded with his unique data and memories. Sounds impossible, but thanks to the wizardry of Penryn-based humanoid robotics company Engineered Arts, one of their cutting-edge
RoboThespians took on the role of Sally’s companion to mind-blowing effect. Unlike
her live carer, he doesn’t have ‘fat arms’, just a spookily ageless holographic face.With live cue prompts, the actor/machine interactions were seamless, their
unfolding ‘relationship’ tenderly portrayed. Pipeline have instinctively embraced
technology and electronica in the past, but this really was brave new world stuff. But strip away the flashing lights, innovative film projection, subtle soundscape, and the story still speaks for itself. A precocious, rebellious young girl meets nerdy, geeky brainiac. Putty in her wannabe Blondie hands, for whatever her reasons (escape?) she instigates a romance. From their awkward first date, where he wears his dead dad’s naff jacket, to their on-a-loop, repeatedly referred to, wedding with a Wimpy reception, the fact that their marriage lasts as long as it did seems miraculous. Especially as he suffers from an inherited degenerative condition called Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 3. “A Spillikin and Vegetables,’ says Sally, “That’s what we’ve become.” Then again, every human body has massive design flaws.
Couldn’t fault the set design though, the disappearing books on the shelf,
mimicking how the memory loss pattern of Alzheimer’s goes from the top down, the
books also coming in handy for one of Sally’s frustrated rages, and a poignant
reminder of her once adept grasp of language as a former NME journalist. There’s
not enough words in my column to do this play justice, but to sum up it was ‘bloody brilliant’, and I wish the company every success with their forthcoming Edinburgh Festival run.
Fi Read
Being a technophobe, I was warily cautious about how I’d find Pipeline Theatre’s
latest production Spillikin a love story. I don’t ‘get’ gadgets, struggle with computers and am not keen on Sci Fi, so felt dubious about seeing a play which boasted a robot as one of its cast. But we’re talking Pipeline here, who have already raised the theatrical bar in terms of groundbreaking shows with their previous two productions: Transports and Streaming. Ok, the main theme didn’t exactly sound cheery: how a woman with Alzheimer’s tries to make sense of her increasingly fragmented world, with the assistance of a robotic substitute husband. However, with writer Jon Welch the man behind the words, I knew the material would be meticulously researched, the characters credible, and the story unflinchingly told. I was right. The actors didn’t disappoint either, with rising young starlet Anna Munden once again in a pivotal role as the young Sally. Offered a place at Bristol’s Old Vic, as well as being on RADA’s radar, expect to see Anna on the national stage and screen in the not too distant future.
The central character of Sally is played by established actress Helen Ryan, whose
moving performance of a woman with increasing memory loss and confusion felt
uncomfortably real; the frustration and anger at not being able to express herself, contrasting with the ‘lost lamb’ moments, instantly recognisable to anyone who knows someone living with this cruel and debilitating disease. Ostensibly a love story, the love in question spans decades and continues beyond the grave, thanks to Sally’s husband’s foresight to invent a replacement uploaded with his unique data and memories. Sounds impossible, but thanks to the wizardry of Penryn-based humanoid robotics company Engineered Arts, one of their cutting-edge
RoboThespians took on the role of Sally’s companion to mind-blowing effect. Unlike
her live carer, he doesn’t have ‘fat arms’, just a spookily ageless holographic face.With live cue prompts, the actor/machine interactions were seamless, their
unfolding ‘relationship’ tenderly portrayed. Pipeline have instinctively embraced
technology and electronica in the past, but this really was brave new world stuff. But strip away the flashing lights, innovative film projection, subtle soundscape, and the story still speaks for itself. A precocious, rebellious young girl meets nerdy, geeky brainiac. Putty in her wannabe Blondie hands, for whatever her reasons (escape?) she instigates a romance. From their awkward first date, where he wears his dead dad’s naff jacket, to their on-a-loop, repeatedly referred to, wedding with a Wimpy reception, the fact that their marriage lasts as long as it did seems miraculous. Especially as he suffers from an inherited degenerative condition called Spinocerebellar Ataxia Type 3. “A Spillikin and Vegetables,’ says Sally, “That’s what we’ve become.” Then again, every human body has massive design flaws.
Couldn’t fault the set design though, the disappearing books on the shelf,
mimicking how the memory loss pattern of Alzheimer’s goes from the top down, the
books also coming in handy for one of Sally’s frustrated rages, and a poignant
reminder of her once adept grasp of language as a former NME journalist. There’s
not enough words in my column to do this play justice, but to sum up it was ‘bloody brilliant’, and I wish the company every success with their forthcoming Edinburgh Festival run.