As soon as lockdown first hit, I was consumed with thoughts on mortality which may sound far more morbid than it actually is. I wasn’t afraid that I would die of the curious disease, nor did I believe that my death was approaching soon but I noticed immediately that this global catastrophe wrought upon us all a collective sense of finality. We were shut up in our homes indefinitely, watching isolation lay waste to the convention and order that we created for ourselves, and resultantly, much of our humanity had died to this impossible change in all that we found purpose in. Much of our hope had died too. This begged the question of where else it would come from; we looked helplessly at what remained of ourselves. Our myriad of pandemic experiences1, that were aberrations of our personal routines, acted as a lens into these endeavours.
These thoughts have never left me, only unravelled. I always think deeply about mortality and existentialism, trying to make sense of life and individuals’ purpose. Thus, it is normal that I am often inspired to reflect on these in new ways. Yet, it was by surprise, like a violent witch hour kidnapping, that I was forced to engage with the theme of existentialism on Tuesday night at Islington’s ‘Hope Theatre’.
I went to watch a play called Mortality2, which centred on a trio of terminally ill youths who all dealt with their impending deaths in contrasting ways.
The first to come on stage was Jade, a rambunctious young woman who had already survived through two prognoses and who bombarded through all life’s challenges with a strut and a smile: she was complex, her confidence and joy acting as a springboard into personal adventures. It was evident that her ethos of life was a full on confrontation of everything before her and her ability to realise meaning for herself derived from this.
The second that we encountered was Dan, an immature, excited man who was apathetic to the fate before him. He survived on a fuel of tasteless hedonistic jokes. Merely, this was a mechanism to cope.
The last was Lewis, possibly the youngest of the trio. He had a shy personality, full of fears and insecurities. His life had been void of any excitement and action since he had devoted himself to introverted studying, believing that this would afford him some delayed gratification. His diagnosis had caused him to regret this empty pursuit and it left him re-evaluating how to find meaning in his life without ever quite getting an answer.
We discovered them profoundly, through opening monologues that were striking and vivacious. Each of them spat out their intrinsic natures thrillingly. Almost immediately, they dissolved from dilemma-filled individuals into an unholy trinity whose chemistry flourished through games, arguments and adventures. This transformation unveiled the philosophy of the play accessibly and enticingly, which was essentially to grapple with conceptions of what life itself is and to inspect the commonality and differences between approaches to life and death.
The play did this well through movement. There were short interludes at different moments of the play which found the trio folding over each other in dance-like movements- sometimes slow and languid, sometimes hurried and manic- under dark, glowing lights. Usually, I’m not a fan of these types of interludes in plays as I feel that they add very little but here these interludes were concise and perfectly positioned to show the changing philosophies of the characters.
There was a deep friction in the way they approached the search for life’s meaning which made for riveting entertainment. Legacy, emptiness and caution all combatted each other to take centre stage of the narrative and this is the beauty of the unholy trinity- it’s imperfection- which bends to show its fractures and inefficacies throughout.
Here, it highlights the pain with which these character’s existence is plagued and the symbols with which they represent their joy. Through this, we are also able to notice gradual changes: Dan’s childish refusal to be purposeful disappears and even his most outlandish acts begin to take on a principled position; Lewis oppositely loses sight of his prior aims for the future and resigns to a nihilism much like Dan’s. Jade is the most exciting of them all at first, her search to be great is the beating heart of this trio’s interactions, but she retreats into herself fearfully as the unknown haunts her.
The play- spanning only a short 45 minutes- is the perfect post-Covid experience because it explodes many of our innermost struggles before us. In the absence of routine or anything to look forward to, where could we turn to? Our understanding of ourselves crumbled and we spent many of that time in lockdown reinventing ourselves and redefining our values in the face of this obscurity.
Throughout, I pondered on one of my favourite Camus quotes: “One of the only coherent philosophical positions is thus revolt. It is a constant confrontation between man and his own obscurity” since obscurity is the perfect way to describe the finality of death for our three protagonists (but which has presented itself through various forms in recent years). Camus offers the Revolt as the correct action against such obscurity. This is what best encapsulates Jade, Dan and Lewis’ collective choice to ‘be immortal’. It is an impossible aim but it is a ruthlessly transparent one which seeks to make oneself naked of the unnecessary and find meaning in the face of darkness. Jade proclaims that she is a ‘badass’ in one scene of the play, because this is authentically how she conceives of herself, without embellishment. The others dance around this style of self-realisation too. It’s emotional to see how they tackle this fate. Their story is enthralling and beautiful to watch.
During lockdown, my mum wore elegant dresses everyday and cooked new meals instead of recycling leftovers. I found it interesting during lockdown but I grow more in awe of this choice with hindsight. It may seem small, but to me this is an example of the way in which this woman chose to instil joy and hope in her life at a time when many were unable to see any reason to and as a result, she was a beacon of light in our home. God bless you mum.
It might seem obvious that this play would touch on this theme from the title but I only bought them because my friend Darcy was playing the role of Jade and therefore, I didn’t look much into what the play was actually about.