
Written by Suzanne Heathcote
Based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro
Directed by Christopher Haydon
until Saturday 23 November, then from 26 to 30 November.
It took Kazuo Ishiguro a long time to write his best-selling novel . He had an idea about young people in a love triangle facing their mortality, but it just didn’t work for him until he finally placed the story in an alternative, dystopian version of 1990s England. There, human cloning is commonplace. To bring the same tale to the stage, narrated as it is by main character Kathy, also presented a challenge.
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In this sumptuous , the narration issue is neatly solved by introducing a new character, Philip (played by Maximus Evans). At the start of the play, Kathy (played by ) is caring for Philip in a bland yet friendly medical facility as he embarks on his journey as a donor. At this stage – unless you have read the book – you are in the dark about what exactly a donor is.
As part of Kathy’s job is to keep donors as happy as possible, at Philip’s request she begins to tell him of her formative years in the privileged surroundings of Hailsham, a school that has an aura of mystery and awe to people who went to other institutions.
The addition of Philip might have seemed forced if he were only there as an artifice, but we see him go on his own emotional and physical journey that foreshadows what could happen to the other two people in Kathy’s love triangle, her friends Ruth () and Tommy (), and ultimately to Kathy, too.
Gradually, layer after layer is peeled back to reveal more of the story. This might have made the play slow, but (artistic director of the Rose Theatre, Kingston) has the cast whizzing around during scenes and rearranging the set in a way that keeps the energy up and the pace fast.
“It’s such a desperately sad story that you have to play against that, otherwise it will become very, very bleak,” says Haydon. For all its sadness, the story is a celebration of the energy of youth. You need to see the lust for life, the willingness of children to charge at a wall and run straight up, and to appreciate what it would mean to rip all that away, he says.
The characters have known all along that they are clones and of their destiny to be donors and to “complete”, but they haven’t really comprehended what that means. As the story progresses, they, and you, slowly discover it.
The enduring and complicated relationships between Kathy, Ruth and Tommy at times give the play the flavour of a rom com wrapped up inside a horror story. Yet at its core is an almost surgical examination of what it means to be human. The performances of Barlow and Imrie as they plumb the emotional highs and lows of their journey stand out, making Kathy and Tommy likeable and relatable, but the whole cast is superb.
The bright, clean set with its many windows – inspired by Scandinavian health clinics – feels fresh and helps add to the impression that the whole construct around the lives of donors is to keep them relaxed. Their schooling, carers and hospital appointments help anesthetise them emotionally. This pleasant feel is what allows the play to become more frightening, says Haydon. “We see the real horror of it when Ruth goes in for her second donation.”
As scientific advances in genetics, cloning and tissue engineering bring us closer to realising the medical dream of having replacement organs on tap, this play, like the book before it, raises a key question: to what lengths will we go to save ourselves? Is it OK to grow organs in dishes for transplant? In “organoids”? How about in pigs or monkeys? Or in short-lived clones of humans?
In a powerful speech near the end of the play, Miss Emily, a former teacher from Hailsham, says the whole idea of the school was to give the cloned children a nicer environment, to show the rest of the world that they were human too, not just soulless, bred donors.
It paints a picture of a society in which many people benefit from something that is morally dubious, yet little is done to prevent it, which isn’t too unlike the world we live in today.
“I’m holding in my hand something that has metals in it that will probably have come from conflict zones,” says Haydon as he lifts up his phone. “We are all kind of complicit in a system that can be destructive and also can be greatly beneficial.”
The question is, where will we draw the line? And it is one that this stunning play asks beautifully.