By name and also by nature, this show is experimental, but if that’s your bag, you’d better hurry, as it’s only on until 17 August. Facility 111: A Government Experiment at the Assembly Rooms is the debut Fringe piece from writer, director and performer Inge-Vera Lipsius, and it’s unlike almost anything else you’ll see (or rather, not see) this month.
For almost the entire performance, you sit in complete darkness. There are no sets, no props, no lighting changes; the experience is entirely audio-based. Lipsius narrates live, addressing the audience directly as ‘you’ and guiding them through a sequence of surreal, interlinked scenes set in two imaginary cities: one of glass, one of sand.
The narrative tone is unexpectedly gentle. Though the setting hints at a world altered by a major, possibly catastrophic event, with ash in the air and a plan to reach safety, the story unfolds with a calm, meditative rhythm. It is more like a guided relaxation with a plot than a tense, high-stakes drama. This approach reflects Lipsius’s aim to explore themes of migration and empathy, allowing audience members to construct the world in their own minds. No two people will picture Facility 111 in quite the same way.
The darkness can be freeing, giving space for the imagination to roam, but there are moments when it risks losing momentum for certain audiences. A flicker of light or visual cue might help some scenes land more firmly. The ending, where Lipsius steps into view and invites discussion outside, could also be strengthened with a clearer structure, perhaps offering insight into the inspiration or what audience interpretations might reveal.
Lipsius, whose previous works include Quad Loop and Paranoia, describes Facility 111 as her most experimental piece yet, a “Fringe experiment” in the truest sense.
This is a show that won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. It is unconventional, even risky, and its rewards depend heavily on your willingness to lean in and do some of the work yourself. But there is something admirable about its simplicity and its refusal to conform to typical theatrical norms. In a festival packed with noisy, high-energy spectacles, Facility 111 offers an unusual, quietly contemplative alternative, one that might just linger in your mind long after the lights (or lack thereof) go down.
