The publicity calls this play “an absurd and sensuous play that captures the sardonic whimsy that defines Vincent Konrad’s acclaimed comics and prose,” and sums it up thus: “If Waiting for Godot was a romantic comedy and also set inside a whale.” Absurdist, then. Existential.* And perhaps an allegory? Or a metaphor, at least. I am alert for clues.

Thundering seas (sound design by Oliver Devlin) precede the first entrance into the white-clad set adorned with beach and summer sports items (set design by Jennifer O’Sullivan). Gender-fluid Newley (pronoun ‘their’ in the publicity), played by Isadora Lao, tumbles in, lies unconscious – and wakes to the strains of harp-like music. Newley wears a hi-vis vest and rainbow bike helmet, while the mute omnichord-player, Zeigfeld (Dan Weekes), sports a long pale shift. (There is no costume credit.)

It’s the Captain (Niamh O’Keeffe), dressed and speaking like a sailing ship cap’n of olde, who informs Newley (and us) they are in a whale. Newley was on their way to the dentist and has a swollen jaw but is in no pain. The Captain is incumbent in his second whale and fully acclimatised. (I’m assuming this is gender-blind casting rather than a ‘drag king’ role but it can be seen either way).

Also inboard are brightly-dressed Bart (Liam Kelley) and Barb (Catriona Tipene). They remain in a ‘newly-weds’ bubble of love despite celebrating their seventh anniversary – not that there’s any way of tracking the time, date or seasons.

There is mention that no-one has eaten for years. This isn’t sci-fi, then; there is no theatrical exploration of which species of whale they inhabit and therefore what may find its way into the stomach they presumably inhabit – e.g. plankton, fish, seals …? Nor is the presence of the aforementioned props indicated as a commentary on humanity’s habit of throwing stuff into the sea; there is no plastic waste, either, although a plethora of plastic bottle does get a mention.

I do need to mention that the Captain, whose dialogue carries most of the exposition and commentary, has a habit of losing projection after the first phrase or two of each speech, so I may well have missed something.

Lao’s Newley exemplifies the alienation we can all feel at times, where bewilderment vies with vain attempts to be assertive. Weeks is intriguingly ethereal and enigmatic as Zeigfeld. Tipene and Kelly, as a highly recognisable lovey-dovey couple, offer a dynamic counterpoint to the others that serves the production well. Director George Fenn (also the lighting designer) ensures the performers’ belief in their realities keeps compelling our interest and attention.

As I understand it, Absurdism, as a genre, involves either taking a logical premise to an absurd conclusion, or an absurd premise to a logical conclusion. Life in the Whale does not unfold either way and we (my companion and I) conclude, in our post-show chat, that dream (non)logic is what drives the action.

The only quest, as such, is to sort out Newley’s dental problem, despite the absence of pain. This leads to Newley and Zeifeld’s abortive attempt to escape, with interesting results. Dramatic traction is also achieved somewhat by the appearance of a brief case and the asserting of a rule that it may only be opened with everyone present. Leaving it unopened for some time generates curiosity and welcome dramatic tension. And its role in the resolution of the dental issue is spectacular.  

There is also a sudden and dramatic twist in the nature of the relationship between Barb and Bart, which leads to a remarkable lack of grief. The resemblance of the next incumbent, Roy, to Bart, and Barb’s instant interest, offers an insight into how, relationship-wise, the more we seek change the more we get the same: a syndrome nailed in the specific articulation of a well-known definition of insanity.

This indeed represents the sort of scenario that might play out in the dreams of someone whose lover has left. Combined with the other surrealist elements, Life in the Whale does stand as a reality-riddled metaphor for a phase of life where we feel trapped and at the mercy of circumstances we are obliged to dance with, rather than resist.

While it could be said Vincent Konrad has yet to fully embrace the potential of live theatre, it may equally be said his background in writing and drawing comics brings a fresh approach to dramatisation. You can determine that for yourself, along with your interpretation of this work, if and when you too experience Life in the Whale.
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*Here is what I included in my 2010 review of the Ian McKellan/ Roger Rees Waiting for Godot:
“Existentialism: a philosophical theory emphasising that people are responsible for their own actions and free to choose their development and destiny.  

“The comic twist is that Estragon and Vladimir choose inaction; they wait for Godot to determine their lives. They are two determinists trapped in a ‘free will’ (existential) universe: that’s the gag. Anyone who is waiting for Lotto will recognise this state of being.”

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