81 (Life) at the Almeida: Do not resuscitate this show

Entering its 45th year, the Almeida has firmly cemented its place as a household name in British theatre. It regularly attracts some of the biggest stars in the business, but it is also not afraid to trade Hollywood actors for projects a little closer to home.

81 (Life), written by Rhianna Ilube, is the second play in the Almeida’s ‘Islington Trilogy’ – a series that attempts to bring a flavour of the cosy North London borough inside the walls of its cultural hub. This instalment takes its name from the average life expectancy of people in the borough.

Over 60 people – the bulk of whom are simply members of the Islington Community Group – appear on stage

There was a refreshingly boisterous air before the performance began, which can surely be attributed to the audience being filled with the cast’s proud family and friends. The support was hardly surprising, considering that over 60 people – the bulk of whom are simply members of the Islington Community Group – appear on stage. The creative directors’ justification for this is that “‘A lifetime in Islington’ could never be captured in the story of one character.” Maybe so, but does this ‘lifetime’ need such a plethora of narrators?

To begin with, the small round stage holds only a floodlit park bench. Anything else would have made the space seem too cramped with the vast number of performers, but minimalist set design does mean that those on stage must work even harder to absorb us in the play’s world. This is a tough ask for people who are not actors by trade. Occasionally, though, this lack of experience can work in their favour. When the first cast member walks in through one of the side doors, we assume he is just an audience latecomer. But as he ascends onto stage, there is an immediate sense of intrigue. As more and more ordinary citizens join him, we discover that this motley crew has been summoned to Highbury Fields, a nearby park, to help members of their community work out ‘how to let go’. It’s local people, but universal themes: as one witty interaction puts it, “Do you know why we’re meant to be here?’, to which the reply is ‘In Islington, or on Planet Earth?”

Indeed, the show does make one realise, at times, how people’s ordinary mannerisms and quirks are inherently but inexplicably funny

Indeed, the show does make one realise, at times, how people’s ordinary mannerisms and quirks are inherently but inexplicably funny. 81 (Life) is at its best when it makes use of these naturalistic, matter-of-fact lines, and actions. Where it begins to fall apart is, ironically, when it starts trying to be a theatrical spectacle. The choreography is very – how to phrase this nicely – ‘GCSE Drama’. There is no expectation that the group will move harmoniously, and, as it transpires, they do not. Again, the cast size hinders the production, blocking chemistry and cohesiveness on stage.

The play does liven up a little when a sofa is wheeled on stage to replace the bench, and the fictional, sprightly ‘Islington Community Forum’ try to help a woman get outside and take up a hobby. This is followed by a scene where a kitsch TV show called The Right Choice – which aims to help people let go of certain habits and commitments – is introduced. There are fresh and creative ideas here, and even moments of fun, but both of these sections do eventually begin to drag.

The show isn’t made specifically to please critics, but rather as a therapeutic exercise to make Islington feel like one

Sitting there with a pocket-sized notebook, a journalist can’t help but feel a little guilty and out of place. The show isn’t made specifically to please critics, but rather as a therapeutic exercise to make Islington feel like one. To find out more about the area’s significance, I spoke to Felix Adler, a University of Warwick English and Theatre student who lives near Finsbury Park. He describes the region as “diverse, divided and layered”. For him, Islington is an area of contrast, from “the markets on Holloway Road to the festivals and funfairs of Finsbury Park, to the quiet tennis courts of Highbury Fields.” When speaking to Felix, I could begin to understand why Highbury Fields had been chosen for the play. An outstanding memory he has of the park is hiding underneath the huge slide in the playground and feeling like he was in the ‘unknown’. It’s that air of mystery that the play tries to capture.

This does not, however, stop the show from falling flat for the most part. It would be cruel to blame the hard-working non-professional people on stage for a misfiring production, so I will instead look at the fatal flaws made by the professionals. For starters, the score and accompanying voiceovers are so persistently irritating and pretentious – at one point, the words ‘spring, summer, autumn, winter’ are repeated through the speakers for a good few minutes – that it becomes very difficult to sit still in your seat and lock into the wafer-thin storyline. Ilube’s writing too does nothing to illuminate the production, except for a brief but poignant piece contemplating dementia. There are a whole host of cringeworthy speeches that one might expect to be delivered by a thoughtless influencer. Rather than being ridiculed by the other characters, though, these speeches are taken as some kind of gospel that the audience is also meant to buy into. Moreover, as previously alluded to, there are simply too many people on stage, and too many people means not enough character.

After a series of persistently shallow messages and thoughtless contemplation, the play culminates in the cast asking the audience to take a slip of paper and write down something they’d like to let go of. These slips are then burnt in the centre of the stage. This was a sweet gesture, but not one that needed two and a half hours of build-up.

So, this reviewer may feel some level of resentment towards Rhianna Ilube and her well-meaning cast for taking up his evening and not teaching him anything, but you know what, I’ll just let it go.