Set on a small research base on Pluto, a team of four (or is it five?) researchers grow increasingly aware that they may be indefinitely stranded when no responses are received from Earth despite communication systems appearing to be technically functioning. As they cling on to the unlikely hope that help will arrive, over the ensuing days, weeks, months (and then years), we witness the crew suffer from a cocktail of anxieties, desperation, hallucinations, paranoia and sickness, all set against a backdrop of disintegrating and increasingly fractured relationships and language, culminating in a stream of babbling Xs spoken by two characters (which lasts over three pages in the script). 

Although set in space, the placing feels almost incidental and the play is a less of a sci-fi than a closeted, stifling drama, though the sheer distance between Earth and the farthest planet in our solar system accentuates the feeling of remoteness, isolation and abandonment. That said, there are some similarities to more recent sci-fi films: Gravity (2013) where Sandra Bullock’s character hallucinates the reappearance of her dead colleague (which leads to her salvation); and Interstellar (2014) where the Earth is blighted and love transcends the fifth dimension to save our planet. In X, however, there’s no happy ending, no salvation, yet there’s still a certain peace as the main character lies (presumably in death) with two incarnations of her daughter.

Perhaps the more obvious theatrical parallels lie with Beckett’s Waiting for Godot where the two characters perpetually wait for someone who never arrives, and Pinter’s frequent use of fragmented language and repetitive non-sequiturs. Florian Zeller’s The Father (part of next season’s fare) and Yann Martel’s Life of Pi also strayed into my consciousness as I grappled with what was actually real and what was imagined.

To say that Matt Greenbank, in his directorial debut, had chosen a challenging play to direct – with which he admits he’s been “mildly obsessed” since he saw it – would, therefore, be a cosmic understatement. The play divided critics when it was first performed at The Royal Court in 2016, so it’s to Matt’s massive credit that he managed to stage a thought-provoking and quality production in a season that’s had more than its fair share of challenging themes.

Kudos first to Chris Janes for his set design and the set builders for the construction of a convincing well-worn space base complete with space window and working ladder. The set was about as far from the intricate Victorian set of the previous show The Late Edwina Black as Pluto is from Welwyn. The angled MFI-type kitchen cupboards did look a little incongruous, but maybe they’ll be in fashion in the next century, so who knows. The stage set was in contrast to the bar area and foyer which were decorated with greenery as a reminder of the verdant Earth that no longer existed and the ‘last tree’ referenced in the play. A neat touch. As was the piped birdsong into the bar, foyer and even loos.

The stage set was complemented by terrific soundscape, lighting and projections. The pulsing and shaking of the rear wall was particularly effective as was the aforementioned clock, together with the ceiling light units and the girl’s voice / birdsong surround-sound. The combination of these truly elevated the play’s most haunting moments. Also a special mention to the clever effects which accompanied Ray’s bloody demise and the Girl’s X-rated face. 

The first half of the play was very stylish and intriguing. A sense of foreboding was a prevalent undercurrent as we sought to get to grips with the space crew’s relationships and their very different personalities. A sense that the passage of time was not linear neatly unfolded and made us question not only the sequence of events but what was real. The second half with its descent into babble was maybe not the payoff that the first half had promised but I suspect this was a deliberate decision by the author to challenge the audience – unlike Act I, the second Act is even spelt with a deliberate underscore. That said, the second half contained some of the play’s most haunting scenes aided by the soundscape and lighting /projections. In contrast, the death of Clark was a really poignant moment, as was the final moving scene by the window with Gilda and her daughters.

This was very much an ensemble cast although Jess Drucker as Glynda clearly drew main focus from the start as her anxiety was clearly signalled by her mannerisms and fractured conversations. She did well with this demanding role / script and seemed most at ease in the almost playful scene – my personal favourite – with Ben Merry’s Clark and Dylan Huber’s Cole characters, when the latter becomes aware (re-aware?) of his illness. Both Ben and Dylan were well cast as her respective wisecracking and intense colleagues and gave convincing performances. Their uncertain descents towards death were in neat contrast to their characters’ confident personalities. Paul Russell impressed as the disillusioned and increasingly fractious Ray, although the writing, in my view, didn’t give sufficient intensity or build-up to his death. But maybe that was the point, that it was supposed to be more of a surprise, given Ray appeared at the outset to be the most at ease with being isolated. Calypso Powell as Mattie gave a lovely natural performance which worked really well particularly in contrast to her disturbed mother. And of course a big shout-out to young Astrid Palfreeman for her haunting performance as the Girl. Very spooky indeed.

This was a well-executed production of a challenging play. Did I work out what was going on? Probably not. Did that matter? I don’t think so. Did I understand the relevance of the dried cereal? Not at all. But what I can say is that I spent a good while chewing the fat over the play into the late evening with a friend over a few drinks. So that is surely the hallmark of a good challenging theatrical production – as Matt Greenbank himself said he hoped it would “gnaw away at you long after the lights come up” so he can put an X firmly in the box for that. Congratulations, Matt.