It is the most difficult process any parent could endure, not the loss, but the unknown fate of a child. The stakes are high in Shelagh Stephenson’s script, and while Auckland Theatre Company’s production of Enlightenment has an intellectual grasp on the chaos of the play, it remains less resonant than the text allows it to be. If a scene isn’t working, it’s usually because the entrance was wrong. In this instance, director Andrew Foster and his design team offer us a definite answer to the play’s riddle in the opening, providing a false start to and an inability to connect with the circumstances of the drama. [More]

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There are many different forms of Enlightenment and in the hands of award-winning British playwright Shelagh Stephenson it becomes a cool, sophisticated piece of theatre that manages to be several different things at once. 

On one level the show is an entertaining missing-person drama that keeps the audience guessing with audaciously plotted twists stretching the boundaries of the genre …

Overlaying all of this is some heady conceptualism that draws connections between the indeterminacy of quantum physics and the loss of certainty in the free-wheeling world of post-modernist relativism. [More]

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At first, Shelagh Stephenson’s Enlightenment is an insightful look at the trauma experienced by a couple trying to come to terms with the fact that their much loved 20 year old son, Adam, has been missing abroad for many months.

Though slightly verbose at times, Stephenson skillfully articulates, through her diverse characters, the full gamut of reactions and emotional fallout from the lack of closure.

Much of the first half centers on Adam’s mother, Lia, played by Rachel Nash, who clearly shows a woman freefalling between raw grief, guilt and inertia. She needs a way forward and clutches at straws, by seeking solace and hope through ‘psychic’ Mrs Tindle (a perfectly-pitched reserved performance from Catherine Wilkin).

As Adam’s stepfather, Stephen Lovatt skillfully shifts between stoicism, skepticism, realism and repressed inner turmoil. While Nick and Lia deal with loss in completely different ways, Lovatt and Nash show the disconnect and emptiness that has engulfed their relationship since Adam disappeared, very well.

Next, David Aston, as Lia’s father, tries hard to be a concerned parent, as he attempts to manage the situation, reacting like the politician he is, by turning to the media for help and spin.

Finally, Anna Jullienne relishes the role of ambitious television producer, Joanna. Dressed to maximize her viewing audience (ideal touch by costume designer Lisa Holmes), she captures the essence of the manipulative tactless character perfectly, as she ‘opens her mouth to change feet’.

After painting a layered and intriguing first half, the second is a very different picture – one resembling a psycho-thriller novel by Patricia Highsmith with a touch of Robert Ludlum. Rather than developing act one or heading to a resolve, Stephenson thrusts us into a dark, deceptive cul-de-sac, as the characters deal with the arrival of a young man claiming to be Adam.

The gear change is such that the empathy I am beginning to feel for both parents, stalls. Perhaps it is because I am so gripped by Jordan Mooney’s performance as the disturbed young man in Adam’s shoes, that it’s his story, and evolution, that I want to know more about. Stephenson reveals his personality as the antithesis of Lia’s, and Mooney embodies the traits and complexities of a man with his condition, brilliantly.

By the end of the night, I feel like I’ve seen two one-act plays rather than one cohesive story. Perhaps because of that, despite all the angst, I’m one step removed from feeling true empathy for any of the characters.

Director Andrew Foster’s creative team is brave and confronting in their interpretation of Stevenson’s dark work.

Audiovisual designer Tom Bogdanowicz opens the night with a bang plus a touch of big brother, which is perhaps his way of saying that even though technology is increasingly invading our privacy, people still easily disappear without a trace. Sound design by Paul McLaney is pensive and unsettling; and the cold shafts of light by designer Brendan Albrey are equally disconcerting.

In a way I find the play a bit like Dan Williams’ illuminating set design: strong frameworks but we are left to fill in much the details ourselves. By the end, the near empty space offers not so much comfort or insight, but a series of questions still to be answered.

If you like a thought-provoking story that allows you to draw your own conclusions from murky depths, Enlightenment will be your ideal night out.

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