A Number: A Review
Miriam Rozas
There is no better way to round out the weekend than a trip to the theatre, and on Sunday I was treated to STAAT’s rendition of Caryl Churchill’s A Number at The Barron in The Byre Theatre, directed by Aidan Monks. We took our seats around the two actors frozen on stage, deep in thought and basked in blue. As the audience chattered, we took in the cobalt faces around the room, the bare furniture on stage and children’s drawings strewn across the stage floor. As quickly as our eyes adjusted to the blue of it all, we were plunged into a winding exploration of what it is we are made of.
The play unpicks themes of identity and genetics, injecting deception, interruption, obsession, and unravelling secrets into its ethical debates and confrontations of parental responsibility. As easily as it could have, the message never felt that it was going in circles, and this is a credit to its two actors, who displayed simultaneous dramatic range and firm humanity throughout. Ezequiel Vigo Fernandez gave a strong, nuanced performance as Salter, the father of the clones. His initial gentleness and concern were so well executed that I began to doubt what I knew about the character. His steady reveal of darker intentions felt undeniably natural, slipping into Salter’s obsessive perfectionism with a chilling ease.
This switching was mirrored by Elliott Reed, who was tasked with playing three clones: B1, B2 and Michael Black. The play asks how different clones can be if they are materially identical, and Reed’s performance takes a clear stance, transforming himself into three distinct sons through shifts in mannerism, movement, and mood, all executed with a controlled volatility. Whilst the pair’s chemistry took a little time to warm up between the switching dynamics in each scene, it quickly settled, and the process matched the tangles of Churchill’s story skilfully. Together they crafted three immersive father-son relationships, and moved through scenes with differing familiarity and deception, discussing the peculiarities, and indeed dangers, of discovering someone identical to you.
Washes of coloured lighting split the scenes, the simple set flooded in blue, red and white. Staged in the round, each audience member’s perspective varied slightly, and opposite one side of the stage stood a mirror showing glimpses of emotion even when faces were turned away. The actors moved between three chairs, with minimal but effective costume changes to distinguish between scenes – and, in Reed’s case, characters. Such design changes gave the audience a rare sense of clarity in a play riddled with distortion, keeping our focus on both the actors’ emotional range and Churchill’s complex, overlapping script. The levels, minimal props and design all complemented the play’s handling of identity at the highest stakes, and were a credit to Monks’ design and direction.
The play finished more abruptly than it began, but its only crime was leaving me wanting a little more time with these characters than the 50-minute run had to offer. In a blackout and resounding applause, and indeed well into writing this review and beyond, I am left to consider our make-up, nature, and, maybe on a lighter note, why this show could only run for two nights.
Perhaps a twisted take on ‘if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again, I can say that the first night of A Number was a resounding success for STAAT. Certainly worth a second watch!
Photos by Alexander Glast
