Disposable, written by Becky Bond and directed by Elodie Foray at the Union Theatre, presents an intriguing theme and an important message; however, it does not quite deliver. The play navigates complex ideas in a flat manner, lacking significant change and avoiding meaningful conflict.
The story, while seemingly engaging and resonant with a younger audience, follows five university flatmates whose shared experiences are disrupted by a serious accusation. As the group attempts to process what has happened, the play raises questions about morality, what it means to be “good,” and how many mistakes one can make before being considered “bad.”
Disposable has the potential to be incredibly thought-provoking, addressing themes of closeness and the intricacies of consent. Unfortunately, it approaches these complexities in an overly simplistic manner, falling short of the emotional depth the subject matter demands.
The writing has a solid foundation, with characters that could be strong. They grapple with issues of youth, purpose, and self-discovery, yet their responses are always correct. There are no clashes of views, feelings, or thoughts. It appears that the script avoids real confrontations and instead focuses on shallow conflicts that resolve without sufficient explanation. Writing ought to provoke thought, even discomfort, but without any challenges presented, one might wonder, “Why care?”
Directorial choices contribute to the flattening of characters, rendering them inconsistent and unchanging or overly altered without sufficient reasoning or inner thought. The awkward transitions might have been used to deepen the themes but instead disconnect the audience from the action and drama. These transitions often felt overly long and seemed to exist merely as a means for actors to change clothes, lacking real explanation. While I am not one of those reviewers who believes mainstream music detracts from shows, in this case, the use of mainstream pop at times felt childish and disconnected from the themes. It could have been approached with more care, especially since the music was so prominent throughout the show.
Another issue is the dramaturgy: the first act serves as a 40-minute introduction. This simple, long prologue reveals little about the relationships among the flatmates, only skimming the surface of questions about social media and alcohol.
The turning point in the first act lands with the force of a blow—not out of surprise, but because I realised I’d spent all this time waiting for something powerful to occur. After the interval, I returned hoping for action on stage, only to discover that the characters’ potential for change was minimal. All conflicts remained internal, as if the characters were hesitant to fully express or act on their thoughts. No one was definitively right, yet everyone seemed to emerge unscathed.
Disposable is intimate and important, even from a personal perspective. It holds valuable intentions, particularly in partnership with the Women’s Aid Federation, but it lacks real action, deep characters, and persistent storytelling.
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