Frogman
Innovative theatre company Curious Directive are clearly on a mission to fuse technology with performance, having previously told tales that explored Astrophysics, Quantum Biology and even perfumery. With Frogman, however, they have flipped the concept on its head, with a story that revolves around the natural beauty of Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, but is told through the medium of cutting edge virtual reality headsets.
Those coming to the performance expecting stunning vistas of multi-coloured tropical fish deftly weaving their way through coral atolls are advised to sit tight at home and wait for the new series of Blue Planet; it quickly becomes apparent that the picture quality of the VR headsets is more akin to a 1980s video cassette. In any case, while we do get to see some murky shots of divers doing their thing, the greater part of the drama takes place within the confines of a child’s bedroom. What sets the experience apart is not the image quality, but the fact you can wiggle your head this way and that, and even turn in your seat full circle should you wish.
If that sounds liking damning with faint praise, it should be said that Curious Directive has created a quite extraordinary immersive experience. By cleverly choreographing the four children involved around their claustrophobic bedroom set, director Jack Lowe quickly and subtly educates his audience into understanding that this is a 360 degree world. As young Meera Clarke, winningly played by Ava Ryan, dances around her bedroom with her friends we find ourselves literally at the centre of the action in a way that is astonishing and, frankly, a little distracting. It’s easy to forget, while marvelling at this virtual world, that there’s a story going on.
The central conceit of that story is that the adult Meera (played by real life Tessa Parr, in the real life Norwich Arts Centre) is cross-examined about the death of her childhood friend while evidence is presented for the “jury” to evaluate in the form of VR interludes - a clunky device to unnecessarily rationalise the headsets. As an audience we really didn’t need this to suspend our disbelief - on the contrary, there was actually something strangely appropriate in having the here and now represented by a corporeal actor, while the fractured memories of her past are seen through hi-tech goggles.
Given that the live action sequences are presumably mainly there to provide blessed relief for our poor aching eye, it’s an inconvenient truth that it is during those passages that the narrative moves forward, to the extent that the novelty of VR starts to feel like an intrusion. As the mystery of Ashleigh Richardson’s disappearance begins to unfold, it is Tessa Parr’s strong performance of grim reminiscence that packs an emotional punch, while the filmed sections, however artfully done, seem increasingly defuse and inconclusive.
It’s worth reminding ourselves that all live theatre is a form of virtual reality - perhaps there is something perverse in adopting technology that tries, but ultimately fails, to simulate what theatre already does so well. It’s certainly apparent that the company started with the technology and then puzzled out how to shoe-horn it into a thing that looked like drama, a trajectory that was never likely to result in a completely satisfying dramatic experience. But they should be commended for avoiding what could so easily have turned into a fairground novelty ride, and instead genuinely attempted to integrate the virtual experience into live drama in an imaginative way.
As technology improves and the novelty wears off, there is every reason to expect virtual reality systems to be incorporated into productions in a way that will truly stretch the storytelling form and offer up drama we can’t yet begin to imagine. Frogman may not have been that sort of game changing experience, but it could prove to be an important step on the way.
