The Mission

Those that witnessed the moon landing beheld space travel with an awe that subsequent generations have never really recaptured. What was once a frontier of endless discovery and adventure is now just as likely to be perceived as an expensive, dangerous and possibly pointless fool's errand. Have we lost our sense of wonder, or merely our own hubris?

In its deceptively humble way, The Mission poses the question, but stops short of an answer. Set in the 2050s, it has now been some years since the first attempted manned mission to Mars, the unspecified disaster of which looms ominously over proceedings. With Earth's environmental plight rendering recolonisation a pressing concern, it must be made palatable to the public again. By this strange logic, Jenny, an average young woman with no qualifications, is nonetheless judged "relatable" by focus groups and selected to be the first colonist of Europa, one of Jupiter's moons. It's a one-way journey: she will never again see her boyfriend, her home, her planet – but given the chance to do something meaningful with her apparently ordinary life, Jenny cannot say no.

As satire, The Mission is fiercely intelligent, with laughs both sweet and bitter. As physical theatre, it is relentlessly imaginative. And as science fiction, it is both philosophically and emotionally honest, often heartbreakingly so. We cannot force a sense of wonder, or a feeling of significance, and if we chase them into the stars, we might find nothing more than a vast, black emptiness.