Solaris

Solaris is a triumphant and emotionally vibrant production which maintains the spirit of its source material while successfully thrusting its philosophical and emotional concerns into the contemporary theatre space. 

Set in the distant future, Solaris is a high concept sci-fi tale about the experiences of Kris Kelvin, played by Leeanna Walsman, a psychologist who is sent on a mission to the planet of the title – a planet engulfed by a (potentially) sentient, psychic ocean. Each of the station’s crew is haunted by the ghosts of people they knew on Earth, which have been sent to them by the planet for reasons unknown. Kris is visited by Ray, her dead husband, played by Keegan Joyce. Joyce makes much of his role as a psychic copy of Kris’ past lover — charming and subtly manipulative, his alien and human qualities are both brought out with an incredible charm. Joining them are the crew members of the station: Fode Simbo plays distractible geek Snow and Jade Ogugua plays Sartorius, the strict rationalist. Much of the early dialogue is used to get through the necessary evil of the set-up, which is made electric by sharp direction. In the lead role, Walsman is precise and deliberated, playing her role with an affected professionalism that makes her later emotional turmoil deeply moving. Hugo Weaving, appearing as an enormous head on a screen to represent the recordings of a dead crew member, is compelling as a sage-like, vaguely fatherly figure to Kris, offering a spiritual element to the scientific natures of Kris’ other crewmates. 

While a less brave script may have only dipped its toes into the pathos of the situation, David Greig’s creation plunges into it: the romantic relationship is fleshed out and given dimension with the reinvention of Ray, who is given a background as a goofy but loving oceanographer. The highlight of the play may be the all-crew dinner party, where Ray is quizzed on his memories of Earth and his feelings by Snow, while Kris takes pains to try to keep him calm. The humour of the deeply personal being injected into what is ostensibly a workplace is sharply comedic, even as the sense of something horrible just around the corner hangs over the scene. For all the silliness, there’s nothing jarring about the way the transition back to creepy drama when it becomes clear Ray’s representation is not mentally stable. The desolate setting permeates the play throughout all the tonal shifts: the set from Hyemi Shin is simple, but malleable, using deep red or blue lights and shifting mechanical set pieces to replicate a space station. 

Solaris, under the direction of Matthew Lutton, creates an emotionally heightened world of its own – one which lingers with you long after the end. When the novel was written in 1961, mankind was on the verge of stepping out into space and being confronted with the great unknown. This adaptation focuses on the sense of responsibility felt by the crew towards the planet, a parallel to the very real environmental crises of our own time. To watch Solaris is to be amazed at how elegantly its disparate elements are brought together to create something that strikes the heart at a profound level.