![]() You’re thrust in the dark and left to fend for yourself as an audience. “There are moments where Light is just something else: it’s a real visceral experience. And not everything in it is going to resonate politically.” The easiest statement to make about Light, then, is it’s hard to categorise. There’s an element of it that’s also fun: it’s not just a cold, hard, serious political. It’s also kind of a homage to dystopia, within the realms of film, novel, graphic novel as well. I want people to engage with this debate that Snowden’s kick-started.”īut, says Mann, “the piece is not just political. But I think in my sphere as an artist, I suppose I wanted to just do what I could do, and get it into the public sphere and get people thinking about it at the very least. And I’m not saying that Light is going to change the world. I just expected there to be a kind of outrage and an uproar or for something to happen – and very little happened. “And I was also really shocked about the response to it. They were a huge kind of catalyst that made me realise it’s important to explore that scene now. It wasn’t until the Snowden revelations happened that I realised that I really wanted to make it work, find a way to do that. Then I went to the Jacues Lecoq theatre school. “I’d had a nightmare about being under surveillance back in 2004 and failed countless times to try and write it. Mann says the idea had been cooking for a while. “I found that GCHQ had a codename for our metadata, and the codename was light,” explains Mann. It – and here comes its impressive ambition – tells its story wordlessly, with no lighting but LED strips and torches. Light is a dystopian sci-fi thriller and, inspired by the Snowden revelations and the ongoing debate over state surveillance, both a commentary on modern times and a warning of what the future could hold. It is indeed massive – in its concept, its scope of genres and its ambition. A couple days later, when you are trying to be productive by having your weekly shower, an image from ‘A Small Gathering’ will return to you, and you will be touched lightly by a feeling of fondness.“A big amalgamation of thoughts and ideas and dreams,” says writer and director George Mann when I ask him the origin of Light, Theatre Ad Infinitum’s dystopian piece returning to London this year following a critically-acclaimed Edinburgh Fringe 2014 run. Take the final few minutes of ‘Cynthia’s Party’ – this bizarre sequence is hopefully an indication of the quality any future video work will have, given more freedom and more time. While the COVID humour can be weak, their creepy motifs are inventive to varying degrees, and blend well with their playful style. We shouldn’t dismiss what Ad Infinitum have been able to create so quickly in these circumstances. As things escalate, the dolls come to life, and we wonder what’s more terrifying: that the dolls are alive, or that Cynthia is really the one going to all this trouble to move their heads. Possibly an allusion to Mike Leigh’s famous play, the guests this time are dolls who look on as their host crumbles. With ‘Cynthia’s Party’, the third and best short, they incorporate the best parts of the first two films. Ad Infinitum have taken this and run with it. The latter is usually half-joke, half-speculation. Its capacity to make you laugh, unfortunately, is let down by silly gags and pantomime noises.Ĭommon phrases right now are “I’m actually doing fine” and “I’m going nuts”. They run through a disturbing mystery in the space of a minute, but it’s a good ending, and when they do get the lighting right it’s worth it for those images. Most of the seven minutes is spent to-and-froing around the house, as well as simulating sex with his hands when he should be washing them, until the horror kicks in. A transformation takes place due to isolation madness – and we watch this mischievous face poke in and out of complete darkness, having been expertly wrapped in shadow. ‘Mr Pink’ sets the vibe and theme for the entire piece. You could do worse than going to the HOME website, paying what you want, and spending twenty minutes on ‘A Small Gathering’ (or any of the works by a range of artists that are now available). Because they’ve had to adapt, this is their first time working with film and it’s a good watch. At least one image will stick with you from each of these three film shorts by Ad Infinitum, the Bristol-based theatre troupe creating work for HOME’s ‘Homemakers’ series. ![]()
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