Review: Memoriam (Southwark Playhouse Borough)
Review by Ruth Sealey
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Virtual reality technology has moved forward at an incredible pace, but what if it could do more than transport us to another time and place? Memoriam at Southwark Playhouse Borough explores the possibility of capturing memories and preserving experiences long after the person who lived them has gone. But when our memories become something we can share, edit and sell, who has the right to decide what happens to them?
As director, Daniel Goldman writes in the programme, “It’s a complicated time to be Jewish in this country”, and I hoped that the theatre would provide a safe place to tell an incredibly important part of Jewish history, one that none of us, regardless of race, religion or political views, should ever be allowed to forget. Set in the very near future, the play follows Rachel, an employee of a company, ‘Memoriam’, that extracts and sells memories as immersive experiences. When her grandmother Rivka’s Holocaust memories become part of the story, questions of technology and ethics develop into a deeply personal family conflict, exploring how we remember our cultural history and the legacy of those who came before us.
A run time of 1 hour 45 minutes without an interval can feel daunting, but British-Israeli playwright Noga Flaishon’s writing held my attention throughout. She cleverly weaves two storylines together to show the significance of taking Rivka’s memories. The play opens with Becky, a prospective ‘provider’ (someone who sells a memory to Memoriam), choosing to part with a treasured memory of her son’s birth. This is a moment many can relate to, and seeing how her memory is edited for VR users demonstrates how easily something deeply personal can be altered for someone else, preparing us for the significance of what is at stake with Rivka’s memories. Flaishon balances the two stories skilfully, knowing when to develop Becky’s story and when to bring Rivka to centre stage.
The dialogue flows naturally, capturing everything from sibling rivalry and the loving bond between grandmother and grandchildren to workplace tensions. Jewish traditions are woven throughout, with Rivka insisting, “I am not religious”, while still observing Seder with her family. Although some of the terminology was unfamiliar to me, Flaishon conveys the characters’ connection to their heritage and the importance of family with real warmth and sensitivity. Despite the darkness of much of the subject matter, she also knows exactly when to lighten the tone, with Rivka in particular eliciting laughter from the audience. This balance of humour and heartbreak, alongside the skilful interweaving of the storylines, makes Flaishon’s writing exceptional, and she tackles complex, deeply personal questions without ever losing sight of the people at the heart of them.
Director Daniel Goldman takes Flaishon’s words and gives them life on stage, demonstrating how effectively theatre can work in the round. The characters move seamlessly between home and office, while the carefully positioned set allows the audience to look in from every angle. There is a particularly powerful scene when David and Rachel argue, leaving Rivka caught in the middle, and the audible gasp from the audience is a testament to the impact of Goldman’s direction and the tension he builds in this scene. Towards the end of the play, there is a beautiful moment when Rivka steps down off the stage and shares part of her story from the floor. As she walks around the space, the boundary between audience and cast begins to blur, almost as if this memory is shared directly with us. Goldman demonstrates a real understanding of how to use the space and brings the audience into the heart of the story. His thoughtful and assured direction allows the most powerful moments to speak for themselves, while ensuring the emotional weight of Flaishon’s writing is never lost.
The cast is uniformly strong, with Jimena Larraguivel laying the foundations for this production as Becky, who needs to make money by parting with her treasured memory of childbirth. When she comes to the heartbreaking realisation that the memory she is left with has been altered, she describes it as “going down the stairs at night and a step is missing”. Larraguivel captures this sense of loss beautifully, conveying the impact of having something so personal changed beyond her control. Ben Wiggins provides a sharp contrast as Memoriam boss Chris, delivering brutal, business-like assessments of the memories his company collects. His smarmy salesman charm makes him thoroughly unlikeable, but this is precisely what makes his character so effective, providing a sobering reminder of the commercial reality behind the process. As Rachel’s brother David, Ashley Margolis captures an anger that simmers just below the surface for much of the production. When it finally erupts, Margolis makes it feel entirely believable, conveying the complicated mix of love, frustration and resentment that can exist between siblings.
However, it is Rachel Barry as Rachel and Beverley Klein as Rivka who stand out in this production. When they share the stage, they are simply mesmerising. Barry navigates the full range of Rachel’s emotions, making her changing attitude towards Memoriam fascinating to follow. Her reaction to the archived memory is captivating, delivered with such raw emotion that it is impossible not to feel the impact. Later, as she shares Rivka’s memory, I cannot think of many moments in theatre when an audience has felt so completely absorbed in the action on stage, and Barry is surely a talent that we will hear more of in the future. Klein creates a totally believable connection with her grandchildren, finding humour in individual words and gestures, without ever diminishing the weight of Rivka’s experiences. She carries the enormity of the play’s themes with honesty and sensitivity, bringing warmth and humanity to the heart of the story.
Ellie Wintour’s sterile, clinical set sits rather uncomfortably alongside the scenes in David’s home. Even with the addition of homely chairs, cushions and carefully chosen props, there is no escaping the feeling that the questions surrounding Rivka’s memories are never far away. The white stage and matching structure on the ceiling create a claustrophobic atmosphere, trapping the cast and memories within this space. Jonathan Chan’s lighting and Sarah Spencer’s compositions and sound design work in harmony to heighten the impact. The harsh lighting of the Memoriam offices illuminates the entire space, placing the audience in the light rather than the dark. It feels like we become part of the future of VR experiences, almost the future market for this technology, and there is something uncomfortable about being so ‘seen’. Spencer’s sound design for Rivka’s memories is particularly haunting, with the steam train, pouring rain and the slamming of the doors of the cattle wagons used to devastating effect. Nothing is sensationalised or overdone; instead, Spencer understands that less is more. These sounds alone allow us to understand what Rivka is remembering, making this some of the most moving sound design I have experienced in theatre.
Memoriam is a story that is so relevant, so poignant, and so beautifully told that I would defy anyone not to be moved by what has been created. At its heart are questions about the morality of technology, who owns our memories and what happens if the most personal parts of our lives become a commodity. But this is also a play about the importance of preserving history, ensuring the experiences of Holocaust survivors are remembered and asking who has the right to shape the stories passed down to future generations. With exceptional writing, powerful performances and deeply moving moments, Memoriam challenges us to consider not just what technology can do, but what it should do. As technology advances, these are no longer questions for a distant future; they are ethical decisions we may well have to make in our lifetime.
Memoriam plays at Southwark Playhouse Borough until 21st November. Tickets from https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/memoriam/#book-tickets
Photos by Charlie Flint.