Reviewed by Kate O'Sullivan
In Dead Man’s Cell Phone, director Phil Bedworth delivers a surrealist black comedy that teeters on the edge of reality, leaving the audience constantly questioning the boundaries of the world they are witnessing. The plot, elusive and abstract, feels like a blend of limbo and purgatory, with scenes that blur the lines between real-life events and otherworldly experiences. It is a show that thrives on ambiguity, never offering clear answers, but engaging the audience with its mix of whimsy and dark humour.
At its core, the play explores the role of mobile phones as both unifying and isolating forces in modern life. The constant presence of the titular cell phone symbolizes connection, yet it drives home the alienation and detachment of the characters from one another. This tension between communication and isolation is threaded throughout the performance, adding an interesting dimension to the show’s humour and surrealism.
The cast performs with a commendable commitment to this quirky universe. Juliet Holmshaw is particularly striking as Harriet, achieving a perfect balance between eccentricity and realism. She commands attention with a performance that grounds the more fantastical elements of the play. Louise Fishwick shines as the heart of the story, playing Jean, a character who never feels deceitful, instead coming across as impulsive yet well-meaning. Both Clare Alason and Frederica Longo-Huntington embrace their roles with exaggerated emotional expressions that bring humour without tipping into melodrama, their chemistry with Fishwick adding depth to the ensemble.
However, not all the performances hit the same high notes. Usman Banday’s portrayal of Dwight feels slightly out of sync with the rest of the cast, lacking the vibrant energy needed to match the boldness of the other characters. Meanwhile, Paul Cook as Gordon, the titular dead man, excels in the duologue-heavy moments, though his second act monologue feels stilted and misses some of its emotional punch.
On the technical side, Bedworth’s directorial choices are creative and effective, particularly given the constraints of the KADS stage, one of the smallest in Perth. The set is stark but purposeful, with repeated use of key pieces that tie the narrative together. The checkerboard floor and rear scrim designs are standout elements, visually anchoring the space in the abstract world of the play. One area that could have elevated the production further is the lighting design, particularly during the frequent switches between locations. Late in the play, some shifts feel disorienting, and a more distinct change in lighting could have helped the audience track the location transitions more smoothly.
Music plays a significant role in this production, with 70s and 80s hits peppered throughout, cleverly connecting back to the show’s themes while helping to mask the time-consuming scene changes. The transitions, managed by masked stagehands, are a creative solution to the limitations of the stage. However, the voice-over recordings could use some improvement. Their muffled delivery detracts from the play’s impact, leaving the audience straining to catch the dialogue in a key scene—perhaps a live delivery would have been more effective.
At just under 90 minutes (excluding the interval), Dead Man’s Cell Phone moves at a brisk pace, keeping the audience engaged in its strange and often humorous narrative. Though the plot’s surreal nature may leave some viewers perplexed, the performances and thoughtful direction ensure it’s a production that will leave an impression.
Reviewer Note: Kate has previously performed at KADS, most recently in 2014. Tickets for this review were provided by the theatre company.
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