I’ve been to the theatre again and this time I went to the Royal Court to see Martin Crimp’s latest play, Not One of These People, written and performed by Crimp himself.
During 90 minutes Crimp asks the question of what is appropriation and what is empathy in writing fictional characters. Who is he ‘allowed’ to give voice to? On the one side there’s the argument that it is fiction and imagination and therefore anything is allowed. On the other side those who believe that not every perspective can or should be explored by every writer.
During the 90 minutes (no interval), Crimp asks what appropriation and empathy is when writing fictional characters. Who is he ‘allowed’ (morally, ethically, contextually) to give a voice to? On the one side there is the argument that fiction is fiction and therefore anything goes. One the other side, there are those who believe that certain topics and perspectives are to be reserved for writers with a personal connection to that topic/perspective, an argument suggesting that an autofictional/self-lived base is necessary in order for an issue to be discussed. Can men write women without being sexist? Can white writers write about experiences within the global majority or should they stick to what they know?
Crimp tackles this dilemma by writing a play with 299 characters, none of which are himself. Visually represented by AI created images of human faces these characters are read by Crimp, initially offstage. Gradually the static faces become animations, a roll of the eyes, a little smile, until they are fully animated speaking faces. And at some point Crimp enters the stage with his manuscript and keeps reading the various stories.
Crimp’s presence onstage alters the whole performance and what could have been an art installation becomes a piece of theatre that questions the creation of character as well as the structure of drama. Crimp enters the stage still reading his characters as he stands in the spotlight before his creations. His reading, shown parallel to the animation of the faces, confuses who is actually speaking. Him or his character? If you look at Crimp, the character is left behind and if you look at the animation you can’t see Crimp; you cannot focus on both of them simultaneously.
As the characters are given their own lives onstage, Crimp disappears and the area behind the screen on which they are projected is lit up showing the writer’s office. Crimp sits down to write, removing any walls between the creation of the characters and their lives in performance.
In the final moments, Crimp is alone on a dark stage. The spotlight on him, no animations, just him reading the last character and the line between writer and character is completely eliminated.
This play is one of the most interesting things I’ve ever seen in the theatre in a long time. As an exploration of an idea of ‘voice’ it constantly pushes what is ‘believable’ and what is allowed for him to say, sometimes verging on the provocative, sometimes feeling increasingly like the writer’s own voice, but also filled with humour throughout and thought-provoking. I bought the playtext and reread sections on the tube. It’s a play that I think will stay with me for a long time.
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