Annie, the aneurysm nestled within Sam Ipema’s brain, attacks, haunts and terrifies her. In this production, it makes for a haunting and enchanting tale.
The protagonist, Sam, is left traumatised and in despair after a soccer accident as an American teen. Her life is filled with parties, fun and general merrymaking until it all crashed and burned following the accident. This drama becomes scientific at times, examining the importance of memory and neurological connections, while also being a story of fear about Annie, who arrives in an explosion of 21st-century pop hits to torment Sam. Annie lurks in the shadows and regularly appears to torment her throughout the show. This is no typical story of injury and trauma, but on the surface, an electric examination of private mental turmoil. Deeper down, though, the story is a tad muddled, overcomplicated in places and at times lacking in potency or strong humour.
However, the general aesthetic is literally electric in Dear Annie, I Hate You. The set is littered with TV screens of various sizes which inventively convey the stories of sub-characters in this densely packed plot. Creatively, the designer allows this to represent those looking in towards the protagonist. With crackling electricity and a brief light flashing down wires connecting these televisions, the TVs become emblematic of the synapses and neurons within the mind of the protagonist. Sound is optimised and razor sharp. From the outset, it is clear that no expense has been spared. Whispered voices pan across the speakers, echoing around the ears of the audience, and booming shatters ring out as the protagonist undergoes the operation and Annie is removed. That is not to forget the multi-level set, revealed at the end of the play, with Annie’s wonderland stationed at the rear of the stage.
Despite the fact that this design was well utilised, it was disappointing to see the vibrancy of the set contrasted with a script that felt underdeveloped. Humour seemed largely missed in this piece, with opening scenes feeling awkward and lacking specificity. The televisions convoluted the tale, bringing the protagonist’s charming brother into the mix. The ending also felt familiar, discussing how the protagonist felt lost without the aneurysm, a theme reprised in many recovery narratives. I felt performances fell behind as well, resulting in uncomfortable and awkward audience participation. The performance is at its best when Sam summarises her struggle in a heartfelt ode to Annie.
Sam Ipema’s production is a love-hate letter to Annie. In many ways, it is a piece I both admired for its experimentation and struggled with due to its performance style.
