It’s an old trope in science fiction that, when asked if there is a God, a supercomputer replies: “There is now”. Playwright Beau Willimon’s riff on the idea of AI and divinity is intelligent and a refusal not to simplify such a complex topic is admirable. If too many ideas are mentioned then left unpacked, it probably isn’t a surprise. But this mix of modern concerns and religion benefits from director Ellen McDougall’s impressive infusion of dramatic tension and some fine performances.
The play is a series of interrogation scenes, set around an accident in an AI lab. So, there’s little action and an awful lot of talking. It works (just about) mostly through the efforts of Nathalie Armin, whose character is investigating the security breach. Her character is a psychologist, there’s the threat of terrorism, and Armin manages to make the role likeable, at the same time generating suspicion.
Willimon is too smart to give us good guys and bad guys, but the two programmers, Lena and Sasha, who have taken the dangerous step of “releasing” the AI programme might be a little more complex. Kaya Scodelario and Luke Treadaway both do well with the roles, but snippets of their relationship don’t add much (nor does an unnecessary Russian accent). The performers are strong enough to make us care for this young couple, who might even be in love, but, again, Willimon crams in detail that could be left aside.
It isn’t much of a spoiler to say Lena’s religious beliefs shape events – it’s easy to see the twist that she’s the mastermind and even to guess her eventual fate. Nonetheless, any mentions of blind faith are highlights, as is Willimon’s ability to reconcile contradictions (like those the play takes its title from). You might expect a little more scepticism, but sections connecting art and myth are well written and aided by David Ridley’s musical direction and some video design by Zakk Hein.
There are more problems with characters, though, and two really hamper things. A very standard Federal Agent (that Alec Newman manages to save) seems to belong in a different play. It’s odd that a government oversees the programme at all (and ironic most of us would feel reassured by that). Far worse is Lena and Sasha’s boss, a former academic so clichéd he could have been written by… no, I won’t say it. His insufferable word soup is dire and its delivery, by Cliff Curtis, is poor. The role is key, surely intended to help the audience out. But the character is a bad teacher, and the play suffers horribly as a result.
Until 15 March 2025
Photos by Manuel Harlan
