Who are we lying to more, other people or ourselves? That’s the central conceit driving Detached, a dark comedy that follows three desperados fumbling through their technologically-driven love lives. It’s low hanging fruit material, that the internet and Tinder and perpetual connection drives us apart rather than bringing us closer, but Detached takes a fresh approach with sharp writing and a shift away from that theme’s typical obsession with young millennials towards an older demographic. Ultimately, though, the results are inconsistent.
The three characters are all housemates – adults in age but maybe not maturity. There’s Nicki (Catherine Glavicic), an RSVP user hoping to break a streak of awful first dates; Derek (Allen Laverty), a middle-aged divorcee on the rebound with a Russian internet girlfriend who he lies to about his wealth; and Jack (Preston Forsyth), an unemployed Tinder obsessive who tells would-be dates that he’s a fitness obsessive and financial manager, when in actuality his main priorities are video games and sending unsolicited photos of his junk.
This isn’t exactly groundbreaking territory, but where Detached excels is in its subtle illustration of our fractured communications. Many of the conversations we see are actually half-conversations and second-hand stories. Derek engages in cringe-inducing Skype-sex with his girlfriend, Nicki recalls the sordid details of her doomed romantic encounters and Jack spends so much time talking to Siri on his iPhone that she becomes his closest confidant. Detached gets its biggest laughs when it grants Siri a sliver of self-awareness, turning her (it?) into a sympathetic version of HAL 9000.
The set is sparse and claustrophobic – all of the action takes place around a couch, a dining table and a toilet – but the actors use it well to drive the play’s central point home: that even though we’re living closer together, we’re so much further apart. When the characters demand space, this distance between them is further exemplified: Derek demands privacy to talk dirty to his laptop in the living room so Jack Tinders on the toilet, dictating a contrived version of his life to Siri in an attempt to impress would-be dates. A light alternates between the two characters as their respective romantic hopes turn dire.
It’s the pacing, though, where Detached falls short. Forsyth, Laverty and Glavicic are each well-rounded performers, and Glavicic in particular shines during her cathartic monologue on the failures of modern men during the play’s climax. Yet much of the show’s dialogue is so rushed that the deliveries feel forced. If their dialogue had a little more room to breathe, the trio’s playful ribbing and revelatory exposition might come off as naturalistic, but instead it’s delivered so hastily that Detached feels like an hour-long play crammed into 45 minutes. And maybe that’s a part of a larger point – that technology speeds up communication at the expense of meaning and nuance. It’s a valid point of concern, but in practice it turns a smart idea into middling theatre.
Detached continues at Shebeen at 7.30pm and 9.30pm on Wednesday September 16, Tuesday September 22 and Wednesday September 23. Tickets are available from the Melbourne Fringe website.
