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Your Name Means Dream - Red Stitch Actors Theatre (VIC)
Written by Jose Rivera
An honest and touching exploration of the connection between human-made and humanity.
Reviewed by Rachael Vassallo
Red Stitch Actors Theatre
Until 24th November
Written by Obie award winning playwright Jose Rivera, Your Name Means Dream premiered at the Contemporary American Theater Festival in West Virginia in 2023. It follows the story of a woman who is provided with a robotic caregiver when she finds herself in a world that's becoming less and less familiar. The literature style of naturalism formed by twentieth-century American playwrights has been revived in recent years and Australian theatre is seeing an influx of new American works on our stages. This permeation and cultural starkness presents alternate perspectives and ideas on staging and clearly display the transformation of time. Your Name Means Dream draws heavily upon naturalism, it takes place entirely in its protagonist, Aislin’s apartment over a short period.
Rivera's writing creates a richly detailed, science fiction world. Introducing the audience to the company Singularity and its AI models early on, these concepts remain simple throughout the play. It's easy to understand and follow the motive of robot Stacy, which is to improve upon previous models and become more human. This forms the basis of the key themes of this production; the connection between human-made and humanity. This is very much a work of science fiction, but as the work progresses, it gradually stops feeling as so; this work creates a world so human that it's extremely believable and almost feels real.
Caroline Lee perfectly captures the multidimensional facets of a frustrated elder in the role of Aislin. Her performance is consistently strong in the accent and physical characterisation, giving a high stamina performance. Lucy Ansell is brilliantly captivating in the role of AI robot Stacy. Her characterisation begins with a very mechanical interpretation, and slowly takes on more human movements as the script progresses. Her fast speech on occasion can be forgiven as her dialogue delivery is so brilliantly directed.
Photography by James Reiser
Another convention that many of these plays have is a very small cast, in this case only two, who were both present for almost the entirety of the works' duration. Having a tiny cast of only the main characters is common and works well as physical presence can easily overwhelm a a script of this style. I find that often the tension of extra characters who are only present for a tiny amount disrupts the rhythm of the piece. Rivera has cleverly inserted a third character (Aislin’s son) through a futuristic take on phone calls, in which Stacy embodies the person on the other end of the line. Watching Ansell transform into a completely different character so seamlessly is a sight to behold, and an utter highlight of the production. Her vocal and physical changes cleverly capture the new character archetype, facilitating the new character without adding clunkiness of including a third actor for such a minor role.
Kat Henry's direction highlights a humanistic approach - we're given insight into Aislin’s loneliness and frustration so as not to assume she is rude. Elderly people in care commonly face the reality of loneliness, and this work highlights the impact that being assigned an erratic or abrupt carer can have. The juxtaposition between Aislin's feeble vulnerability and her distrust of others is portrayed brilliantly in the opening scenes of this work. We get to witness the tumultuous relationship as it develops and blossoms into a bond. It becomes apparent that Aislin has not positively spoken to anyone for many years, including her own family.
It can be challenging for a vulnerable, lonely person who has lived through multiple traumatic experiences to trust anyone, particularly someone who is involved with their deeply personal and intimate tasks. Multiple times throughout the work we witness Stacy connect, form trust and build a relationship and then close friendship with Aislin, only for her to completely lose trust. Each time this happens, I thought it was a major turning point in the production, yet it repeats multiple times. The number of times we saw the trust be built and then fall apart at times felt like it unnecessarily complicated the relationship between Stacy and Aislin. Focusing on and developing fewer conflicts could have better explored the convolutions of building relationships with un-trusting and vulnerable people.
One of the strongest elements of this performance is the costume and set design which are both the work of Hahnie Goldfinch. A dilapidated New York apartment, with peeling paint and a blurred window captured the look, and levels created by multiple doorways and staircases enhanced visual interest. Aislin's costume is mismatched and introduces her as someone who was not expecting visitors and had given up. As the play unfolds, the quality and appearance of her clothing improves as she opens up. But the strongest costume was that of Stacy, which presents her as both very human and very machine, cleverly drawing upon its own interpretation of science fiction.
Your Name Means Dream is a heavy work that stays with you. I fear being alone, and I am grateful for every opportunity I have to build and maintain connections with others, but I fear the joy is short. Will I be vouched for? Or will the only person I connect with in the end be a robot? The prospect is scarily presented in Rivera’s script.
Writer José Rivera
Director Kat Henry
Set & Costume Design Hahnie Goldfinch
Lighting Design Amelia Lever-Davidson
Sound Design & Composition Ian Moorhead
Design Associate Louisa Fitzgerald
Stage Manager Finn McLeish
Cast Lucy Ansell and Caroline Lee
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