Reykjavik

Written in collaboration with neuroscientist Dr Hugo Spiers, Reykjavik is a charming production that attempts to journey its audience through the "architecture of memory". Beginning in the recesses of central character Jonathan’s mind, the story follows discombobulated recollections of a half-forgotten love affair in Iceland's capital. Here in this alien environment, Jonathan desperately tries to gain a cultural and romantic foothold, eventually crumbling under the weight of numerous insurmountable emotional obstacles.  

Reykjavik is a likeable and innovative play. Its immersive, site-specific staging—which demands its audience don a white boiler-suit and goggles before entering—is highly ambitious and stokes an exciting atmosphere of uncertainty. The narrative is also highly imaginative, at times beautifully capturing the mind’s ability to manipulate both reminiscences and future projections.

But despite Reykjavik's impressive staging, the play seems to neglect more foundational theatrical principles. While Jonathan Young’s performance is earnest, it lacks the power to evoke real empathy. The script also feels a little flat, lacking the sense of drama or poetry that might conjure the emotional intensity of such rose-tinted memories. And although the attempt at site-specific immersion is novel, it’s frustratingly gentle. It’s only when we're finally asked to don the tinted goggles—which completely distorts the audience’s perception of Jonathan’s words—that it’s possible to fully grasp the idea of inhabiting his mind.

A unique experience, Reykjavik deserves much praise for its ambitious premise and the meticulous research undertaken. Unfortunately, the promise of such fascinating theatrical ingredients is never fully realised.