We each carry our problems, quirks, failures, and traumas with us, which is why the geographical cure—picking up and moving elsewhere—rarely works. With X, British playwright Alistair McDowall asks: What if we moved to Pluto, though?
Through the perspectives of a five person crew, who find themselves stranded on a space station, McDowall drives his maddening, dystopian point home: Even if you move to Pluto your problems will somehow follow.
It’s worth noting that X the play has nothing to do with X the website. McDowall debuted this work in 2016, at the Royal Court Theatre in London, years before Twitter’s infamous ownership and name change.
While the play’s story makes use of science fiction elements, it doesn’t depend on our understanding of them to advance its aims. X feels derived more from Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot or Krapp’s Last Tape than space satire or opera. The duration, origins, purpose, and metrics of the crew’s mission are opaque—like Godot’s assignment to “wait.” It feels like a device to simply plant these characters millions of miles from Earth. Ray (Bruce Burkhartsmeier) the captain, Gilda (Maureen Porter) his second, and Maddie (Olivia Mathews), an engineer, are stuck with two scientists, Clark (Mike O’Connell) and Cole (Austin Michael Young). Almost immediately we see that everything is all wrong.
Communications with Earth have failed; the ship’s messages go unanswered, potentially undelivered. The explorers recall that Earth itself is in perilous disarray. The natural world has collapsed. Continents drift; relatives vanish. Trees, food, and birds are only rueful memories.
But other, closer defects trouble them more and may be of a more immediate threat. The crew suspects another presence is observing them through a sinister black porthole that dominates the center of the set. They argue about their own memories, reminiscences that should be shared, and memories they aren’t sure are their own. The digital clock set to Earth time goes haywire, depriving the spacefarers of the most fundamental way we order our own linear identity.
Ray hallucinates. Clark nips at Johnny Walker Red. Gilda, the good astronaut, marks time by religiously checking the external fittings of the space lab. Maddie restructures her morning, noon, and night to great effect—a hilarious hat tip to Vladimir in Godot. In the second act, McDowell deprives his work even further: Speech fails. Cole unravels (we don’t really see why). Maddie disappears and reappears. Love blossoms and dies.
This exasperating, difficult play continues Third Rail’s laudable willingness to take on challenging engagements; X is its farthest reach this season. McDowell’s play gradually dissolves markers we take for granted—time, memory, social position—and we’re left asking not “what would I do,” but “what’s left?” McDowall has crafted a long and difficult ride with an ambiguous ending, but this superbly-acted and inventively produced drama repays an invested audience.
Third Rail Repertory Theatre presents X at CoHo Productions, 2257 NW Raleigh, through June 7, $58.50 w/ sliding tier option, tickets, showtimes, and content advisories at thirdrailrep.org