Dead Man's Cell Phone - KADS (11 September 2024)

The cell phone or mobile phone in our parlance. Back in 2007 when Sarah Ruhl's play premiered the first iPhone was only a few weeks away from being introduced. In the 17 years since, digital devices have fundamentally changed how we communicate, how we consume entertainment and news, and how we conduct our daily lives. Arguments rage about the pros and cons of such a massive sea change with governments now seeking to restrict access to social media and apps - two things ushered in and accelerated by smartphone technology - on an age basis. That initial iPhone would probably look quite quaint to us now but it changed the world.  

The play purports to explore how this technology separates us and brings us together. Having seen two different productions in the last year I would contend it does so only on a superficial basis. Which may be quite understandable - how could Ruhl have known how addictive the mobile device would become when coupled with insidious algorithms and apps designed to maximise screen time?  

The dramatic conceit of the play is a clever one, albeit one that has a baked in question that is problematic. A woman eating alone in a cafe hears a mobile phone constantly ringing. She approaches the owner of said phone only to discover - as an audience member so helpfully exclaimed - that he is dead. She answers the phone... 

Thus begins a cascading series of events as Jean (Louise Fishwick) becomes entangled in the dead man's affairs as she continually answers calls from his mistress, his mother, and, what we later find out to be, shady business associates. 

I wonder why. The excuse given is that answering the phone will keep the memory of Gordon alive. A man she does not know. Okay, that's a lovely if somewhat abstract sentiment but it doesn't explain Jean's compulsion to lie and dig herself into deeper holes as she tells Gordon's mistress, mother, wife, and brother blatant fabrications about his last words. It makes me ponder how many people are already dead... a conundrum that deepens as the play slides into surreal territory in the second act. I suspect there is no definitive answer and the play remains elusive on this front. 

I enjoyed Fishwick's earnest portrayal as Jean. The lies feel more impulsive and never knowingly malicious, assisted by a natural Scottish accent. Julie Holmshaw is a delight as the eccentric mother of the dead man who switches from acerbic observations to performative grief with relish. Clare Alason brings casual bitchiness to the mistress, Carlotta, and an exaggerated air to "The Other Woman" in the second act's airport scene that catapults us into strange territory indeed. 

Federica Longo-Huntington's moment as Hermia comes in the bar scene where she plays the always tricky 'drunk' with flair. Usman Banday is awkward playing an awkward character in Gordon's brother. I was never quite sure where I stood with his representation of Dwight. The burgeoning romance with Jean is oddly sweet yet unconvincing. The dead man himself is played by Paul Cook who comes to life in the second half as he narrates the events before his death. This halting monologue had Cook searching for the words and emotions. He fares much better in Gordon's later interactions with Jean as we revisit that fateful cafe in a totally different context.   

Director Phil Bedworth has made many interesting choices, some forced on him by the unique challenges of the small performance space at KADS. The play scoots along and felt much shorter than the previous incarnation I saw last year while retaining all the same scenes. Bedworth leans into the ambiguous nature of the setting by using a stark set design and stripping out ambient noise (except for the airport scene) - are we in perpetual limbo or purgatory or...? This is aided by the stagehands wearing masks suggesting a ghostly presence as set changes are made. These are slow but accompanied by some great music choices from the late 60s/early 70s. Restricted viewing from the back rows makes characters lying down an issue such as in the stationery sequences. 

The one overtly thematic sequence about the mobile as connective tissue, even between worlds, is visually interesting with props, costume, and lighting design as otherworldly figures surround Jean and Gordon, however, the sound of the phone messages needed to be far crisper to be understandable.

This is an unusual play that has several moments of black comedy. Its twists are enigmatic and this sponsored healthy debate afterwards. For me, putting the technology aspect of the phone aside, the main message is our aching need to be told we are loved and to embrace that, even from beyond the grave. 

Dead Man's Cell Phone is on at the KADS Theatre in Kalamunda until 21 September.