Review: 113, Edfringe

The set for 113 is split in half with a physical divide across the diagonal. The audience sits on either side, so along with the actor, we can only see the half that we occupy. A really thoughtful concept: we draw our own conclusions about what is happening on the other side by voice alone. Which of course means that this review is unique to one side: the side of the occupant 64, which is where I happened to sit.

113 is set in a dystopian world. A male, dressed in a pyjama-like outfit with 64 embroidered onto his shirt, is pushed into the room wearing a Venetian-style mask. He remembers nothing, is clearly anxious and disoriented. There is very little in his room. He shouts out, and number 49 replies from the other side of the divide.  They appear to be female. She also appears to have been there a while, given the gap between the two numbers if we assume they are generated consecutively, and they are the only two prisoners. He is increasingly distraught, and she encourages him to look for clues: she has dog tags. He finds a wedding veil.

The idea is that they do their best to work out who they are, what their past was, and why they are in there. Bit by bit, they are given more clues, and between them, they discuss possible scenarios. They clearly bond: the title of the play – number 113 – is the sum of the two individuals’ number assignments, and they discuss possible escape routes.  

The story itself has a touch of the Greek myth about it: as 64 remembers his mother, there are suggestions of an inappropriate attachment in that relationship. Given the direction the script takes with his relationship with 49 (see below), this could be useful to explore: Is she a direct relative? We also don’t know where they actually are: a prison, the afterlife, a hospital perhaps? Sadly, the end is much more pedestrian.

I really believe this production has a lot of life left in it, and certainly, as the audience left, the majority were loudly positive about what they had seen and what it meant. But there are a few issues that could do with addressing. Firstly, all the actors have one tone: LOUD and shouty. 64’s speech in particular is littered with the word fuck. No stranger to swearing myself, this is just lazy in a script like this. There’s also no light and shade in 49 and 64’s performances, which there is plenty of opportunity for, particularly when both 64 starts to remember his family.

It also very quickly, and slightly weirdly, became sexual. And I don’t really know why: I appreciate in a scenario like this, the two individuals, isolated and scared, will seek solace. And that could easily become sexual, except this ended up there with no preamble. And as I allude to above, the story itself could be a little more complex, with depth: ask the audience to work more and perhaps leave the ending a little more opaque?  I am reminded of Waiting for Godot at this point, and the potential of the absurd. 

Nonetheless, this has potential, and the very essence of the Fringe festival is to try and continue to work on things. I wish them well, and with a few iterations, this could be really interesting.

Written by Ethan H.M. McLucas
Directed by Rio Rose Joubert
Produced by Déjà Vu Productions & Pretty Gross Productions

113 plays at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival until Saturday 23 August.