OBSERVER: Instruction and work.text
If the thought of experimental theatre has you breaking out in a sweat and lunging for your oodie and the TV remote, you need to see a Subject Object production.
This UK-based collective, led by Creative Director Nathan Ellis, has brought two distinctive works — Instruction and work.txt — to the , and they are fabulous.
Although this is their first visit to Australia, Subject Object has already toured to 11 countries and performed in nine languages.
It’s easy to see why they’ve earned such a following: both shows are clever, playful and immersive, exploring human nature and our relationship with technology while satisfying our desire for collective experiences. I left a fully-fledged Subject Object devotee.
Both productions lean heavily on technology — much as we all do in daily life — and share the same basic props and equipment, though each uses them in strikingly different ways.
Instruction
Performed by a different actor each night, instruction is an unapologetic showcase for acting skills. The performer receives the script and stage directions for the very first time, interpreting them in real time as a story unfolds about an audition for a film.
Part comedy, part unsettling social experiment, with a hint of Black Mirror, it is by turns funny, strange and deeply revealing.
The “Actor” reads from a teleprompter, also projected overhead for the audience, or takes hidden directions via headphones. What results is a fascinating study in nuance and variation, with a twist you won’t see coming.
On the night I attended, John Marc Desengano delivered a charming and committed performance, never once breaking character. Christie Whelan-Browne and Tom Ballard are also billed for future performances. T o say more would spoil the surprises, but suffice to say the show lays bare both the pressures and the vulnerabilities of an actor’s life.
work.txt
Even more mind-bending is work.txt, where audience participation takes on an entirely new meaning: the show is performed not by actors, but by the audience themselves — every single one of them.
As someone who usually shies away from such participation, I was astonished at how much I enjoyed it.
Ellis’s script somehow manages to move seamlessly from the absurd to the profound. At one point, the entire audience is belting out Celine Dion’s Titanic anthem — an unforgettable, communal moment.
Earlier, everyone is called on stage to choose and place a block of wood wherever they like, a simple action with strangely powerful resonance.
The piece explores the grind of modern work, the pull of social media, and the fragility of mental health. Its closing sequence is relentless, overwhelming, and yet exhilarating — leaving you drained but elated by the experience. If I were giving stars, it would be a definite five.
Review by Beth Klein
Pictured: John Marc Desengano in Instruction. Photo: Liv Morison