A gripping, dark comedy set for an exclusive two week run at Riverside Studios, Artificially Yours sees three couples welcome an AI relationship therapy device into their homes. With top notes of humour and base notes of dystopia, the show progresses with a drive of digging deeper and building to the truth, dealing all the way with issues of deception, dependency and distance caused by humanity and technology alike.

There are stages to connecting with any theatre piece; the title, the concept, the cast, the story, and with every step, Artificially Yours has thrived. Immediately the juxtaposition was striking and unlocked potential for a magic concoction of profound drama and engaging humour. The packed studio absolutely oozed with creativity, from the enthused audience members to the close-knit multi-talented team of a cast featuring the shows own writer and producer, but then came a small lull.

The opening scene from Leslie Ash and Paul Giddings, the most seasoned actors of the cast, lacked fluidity and pace, becoming repetitive and awkward in a way that refuses to settle or disguise as purposeful choice. Clear performing prowess as individuals acknowledged, regretfully those few static, stuck minutes cannot go ignored. The early moments have a certain weight when bringing a script to life. Whatever upholds the suspension of disbelief, necessary with such works of theatre, frays and snaps and we are witnessing a slow-motion fall, willing something to save it. That saviour arm reaches out with the entrance of Destiny Mayers playing, strong, successful, together writer, Lilah, bringing a welcome rise in personality, and by the time we have met our third couple safely lays us down on solid ground.

In their portrayal of Pippa and Martin, a divorced couple attempting to share with new partners a heart that will always partly belong to each other, Leslie Ash and Paul Giddings recover from their earlier slip quickly, becoming a haven for silent moments where you could hear a pin drop and truth settles with an authority that commands the room to feel. Giddings, as Martin, has a talent for nurturing and rehabilitating the pace of the scene, with a shining, spirited, natural presence while Ash, as Pippa, is somewhat shaky but delivers some witty and powerful punches. 

A touching chemistry is appreciated between Ella Jarvis and Jake Mavis playing Ellie and Noah, the show’s most junior couple, just a few months in and exhibiting a blind focus on the physical connection over the emotional. Producer, Ella Jarvis’ entrance as Ellie exudes a youthful energy which continues throughout her performance of incredible commitment and timing. 

In his theatre debut, Jake Mavis, stepping effortlessly into the part of Noah, originally portrayed by Drew-Honey, has the audience in the palm of his hand. The picture of confidence, with wonderful physicality, through highlights of masterful comedy and brimming tears that tug hard at the heart strings, Mavis brings us that classic satisfying trope that sees a heightened stereotype of a character reveal his layers and show his soft gooey centre. 

Leslie Ash seems to be considerably idolised amongst the other members of the cast in a plea to sell the piece, the same with the previous casting of Tyger Drew-Honey, but, although impressive casting for a playwright debut, truthfully this seems completely unnecessary with so much talent filling the wings and writing that speaks so boldly and fluently for itself.

At its core, the piece succeeds because it is a thoughtful, well-written script. Tapping into what is close to home, Aaron Thakar delves into a topic that has been increasingly on our minds of late, especially amongst actors. Thakar creates a very real multi-dimensional world and with subtle but significant references to recent SAG-AFTRA and WGA strikes and ever-present relatability, solidifies it as a believable and near future. Those understandable concerns of late regarding the potential for AI to hinder the connection between performer and audience are demonstrated in possibly the most personal human connections of one’s life and he manages to make a comment on society in an effortless ride, with no risk of coming across overly moralistic or heavy. His natural ability to do so speaks favourably to his future as a playwright. As Ash, struggling actor and loving partner to Lilah becoming arguably over-dependent on his AI therapist, Thakar demonstrates wonderful comedic instincts, with a comedy performance style at times not unlike Nick Mohammed.

Direction from Hannah McLeod allows for prime comedy and dramatic effect. Many artistic choices across the performance could be described as a lean towards the typical, with impactful results. Creative use of space amongst an all-to-familiar set, so familiar that we sink easily into the world, the mind’s eye able to fill in certain scenes outside the four walls we see, is only uplifted by the effective utilisation of spotlight to illuminate, and emphasise. 

This sharp, satirical show is an excellent exploration of dynamics. You sit captivated by it all. Tension, awkwardness, emotion, sympathy. Captivated by the way each fight contains more multitudes than just simple anger, sitting with real feelings of danger and anxiety like a child gingerly curled up in bed listening to mum and dad fight downstairs. Captivated in the natural position of being very much in on the joke, never confused. Eyes widen, bottom lips jut out, gasps flow loudly over the crowd, becoming laughter and swirling around - embarrassing laughs forced out your throat, tumbling from the mouth, getting lost in the avalanche of noise from the audience. 

**** Four Stars

Reviewed by Louisa Clarke

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