Ghostware review | The Motley Bauhaus

The reach of AI into everyday life is becoming both alarmingly blatant and quietly ingenious. We’ve grown used to fabricated videos, fake news and dodgy deepfaked interviews cluttering our feeds. In Cat Finch and Rose Bishop’s Ghostware, that same technology is recast as something at once unsettling and strangely tender, giving the audience room to consider death, grief and the stubborn persistence of love through AI.

Jordan Barr steps into the role of Gertrude, with sharp comedic timing and genuine emotional depth, letting us feel every wobble in her world as she continues to live in the shadow of her sister’s death. Then the impossible happens, she gets a phone call from her sister, or at least an AI imitation of her. These so-called GriefBots let the bereaved cling to their loved ones, whether out of guilt, longing or plain old affection. But when the AI version of Beatrice starts spruiking discounted Ray-Bans and cut-price therapy sessions, Gertrude sets out to have the GriefBot shut down, only to discover that getting rid of it is far tougher than she ever expected.

Like Barr, Finch and Bishop come from comedy circles, and their knack for shaping a compelling story is clearly evident. At times it almost slips into the rhythm of a softly delivered stand up set, particularly in the opening beats, but it does not overstay that vibe. Instead, the piece settles into a captivating and attentively crafted exploration of how technology tangles itself into death and grief, handled with a steady mix of care, insight and wit.

The show digs into an intriguing idea about the way AI speaks, always smooth and constant, never stumbling through the awkward pauses that make human conversation what it is. That contrast opens up a thread on unspoken tensions within families and the sense of not quite belonging, gently highlighting the imperfect humanity that binds us together.

While Ghostware begins in Gertrude’s flat as she packs up to move out, the plot quickly carries us through a range of other settings, and the descriptive language in these moments does a brilliant job of placing us there. Nothing on stage shifts when Gertrude ends up in a Chinese restaurant or a lawyer’s office, but the writing itself transforms the space in our minds, permitting the scenes to unfold with clarity and imagination.

Used sparingly, the melancholic sound design adds a gentle pull to the narrative, stirring up memories of what has been lost and what might have been, all while still finding opportunities for plenty of laughs. A couple of the lighting cues are a bit abrupt, especially when we transition from the softer, more spotlighted instances, usually when Gertrude is speaking on the phone with AI Beatrice, back into the wider action. The sudden jump can be jarring, briefly pulling you out of the story’s flow.

Ghostware remains an inventive and emotionally resonant work, one that navigates its themes with sensitivity. It doesn't trivialise the terrain it covers, but rather finds a balance between humour, heart and thoughtful critique. It leaves you mulling over the strange comforts we reach for and the very messy and complex human ache beneath our clever machines.

Ghostware was performed at The Motley Bauhaus between 3 - 5 December 2025.