The genre of post-visual theatre – which includes but is not exclusively radio plays – has become an increasing concern in the past decade. From blindfolds to confessional booths, via secular ritual in candlelight, the post-visual presence at the Fringe is both diverse and innovative.
Funeral, by Fringe legends Ontoerent Goed, is an abrupt change in direction from a company who have made aesthetic restlessness their MO. Ritualistic and unafraid of boredom or audience discomfort, Funeral imagines a different kind of memorial. It takes place in semi-darkness and avoids religious imagery, generating an inclusive, meditative environment. This being Goed, it has its own provocation: how far can an event that relies on affect be categorised within the star rating system? Yet for a company who have made bracing and forceful political theatre, violent examinations of youth culture and cynical commentaries on democracy and manipulation, Funeral is stunning for its sincerity.
Tomorrow’s Child takes another angle: the audience is blindfolded (until the final reveal) and placed in a surround-sound environment. Rather like the Ray Bradbury story that it relates, it has a single concept and works it towards its logical end. While the plot concerns a child born into the wrong dimension, the audience is swept into a dimension of darkness, imitating the disorientation felt by the child’s parents and allowing them to concentrate on the swirling soundtrack. Like Coma, it invites focus on sound, on how words can conjure imagery and the clank and grind of machinery, voices and vehicles are lent an evocative edge. In the darkness, the power of the speakers is all the more immediate and if the climax – a return to sight – is disappointing, this speaks to the dynamism and innovation of the unadorned soundscape.
Without Sin has less darkness in the confessional but shares with Funeral the attempt to rediscover a spirituality beyond religion. A game for two, it encourages a conversation through scripted questions and is a rare opportunity to reflect amidst the chaos of the Fringe. Again, there are implied questions about the theatrical nature of the production: the subjectivity of the experience cuts it adrift from an easy analysis. Some people come out and hug each other, but others run away. In the booth, there is a structured and performed intimacy that ignores familiar theatricality while asking questions about whether the social death of religion has left a gap in human experience.