Leper Colony

For a play in
which nothing happens, Vaughan Pilikian’s {Leper
Colony::L0813652408} is oddly mesmerising. Lulled in by the
absentminded humming of Cristina Haraba as the six actors settle
down on the dusty floor, the repetitive nature of their movements
around The Yard’s stage becomes almost hypnotising, drawing us into
their cycle of torment.

A solitary
balloon floats in a corner and streamers and tinsel line the walls in stark contrast to the drab, threadbare set. It is almost as if one
has stepped into a children’s party, but one in which the children
have all gone mad. “That hurts!”, Pablo Meneu Barreira protests
as Thomas Snowdon attempts to twist a key into his skull. The sheer
absurdity of moments such as this, despite the slightly heavyhanded
imagery, work to provide an often humorous alleviation from the
monotony. Emilie Patry’s obsessive loyalty to a broken chair is
both funny and strangely touching within a world of actors drifting
past each other, each lost to their own dreamlike states.

And yet despite
these few moments of warmth and humour, the production remains highly unsettling, its schizophrenic pace jittering from one
extreme to the other. The actors circle each other like caged
animals, their frustration building into an explosion of energy as
they rain down props on one unfortunate member of their unhappy band.
And then it is quiet again: the actors crawl on their hands and
knees, drained of their former urgency.

Adding to this
unsettling tone is the accompaniment of some excellent lighting and
sound (from Tim Sidell and Martin
Clarke respectively). Whether through
the forlorn tolling of a single bell or the overwhelming sound of an
apocalyptic rumbling, the sound works to give the impression that
this demented children’s party is a far safer alternative to what
rages outside. Accompanying these apocalyptic sounds is a pulsing
light that serves to completely disrupt the melancholy atmosphere
into something that makes you sit bolt upright in alarm just as you
were drifting into the dreamlike state of the actors.

Leper
Colony is not for everyone and yet there is something
captivating in the way it both soothes and disturbs. At times
impenetrable, its real strength is the way in which its world
detaches you from your own, its sound and atmosphere working to make
you slightly wary of stepping from the theatre, concerned as to what
lurks outside.