Control

Keziah Warner’s Control, directed by Julian Meyrick, is an ambitious and moving science fiction theatrical work with a cleverly political sting and a jaw-dropping scope. The work spans over half a century in its three stories, each of which deal with the interactions between technology, identity, and the economic struggles which complicate both. 

The first throws us into a space pod’s moment of crisis, where it soon becomes apparent that the pilots are contestants on a reality TV show – Big Brother in space, essentially. Jabs at the performative element of reality television, while reliably very funny, occasionally seems like low-hanging fruit, but the performances of the pilots, particularly Dushan Philips and Naomi Rukavina, cement it as a light, but incisive, narrative.

The second story shifts the tone – it’s a philosophical and probing narrative where the intriguing hook of a digital database of people’s childhood memories plays against the abuse of a robot supervisor.  Control is let down by its tendency to hint at storylines which drift away into nothing – that problem is most noticeable here. However, this issue is sorted by the end, when connections to the disaster at the end of the first act arise and the story shows its heart. It’s like Black Mirror, only comedic.

The last is the strongest of the three narratives. Minimal and sparse, it is a dry, yet heartfelt story about the growing relationship between a robot programmer, Isabella, and her charge, Esta. A familiar plot about Esta’s growing intelligence is turned into something powerful and moving with the brilliant performances of Christina O’Neill and Rukavina, who play brilliantly against one another. 

The uncanny intimacy of robot-human relationships is common ground for science fiction, but the strength of the characters turns Control into a play which demands to be watched. Acerbic and assured, Control consistently delivers unforgettable moments of both hilarity and pathos, while offering much to consider afterwards.