There are several standout scenes, including our protagonist Eli scrolling through Instagram reels before finding his gateway to the Blackpill community. A later striking sequence has the ensemble appear in Eli’s dreams - or perhaps nightmares - each wearing a mask of problematic pop culture men, such as Ross from Friends, Mark from Love Actually, and Professor Snape from Harry Potter. It’s incredibly creepy and heightens the unsettling mood. The cast is dynamic and versatile, wholly inhabiting both intimate and group moments, and brings a tense energy whenever they appear.
The fight, movement, and dance choreography led by Movement Director Sian Quinn Dowler, is exceptional. From a brilliantly staged encounter between Eli and his HR representative(s) to some intense fitness routines, the work allows the cast of twelve to move fluidly and utilise the space to its fullest.
However, at over two hours, there’s plenty that could have been edited out of Chris Patrick Hansen's script to strengthen the piece. The online chats with OneCel and TwoCel mainly provide “comedic relief,” particularly one irrelevant instance with a Russian bot attempting to scam money from them. Likewise, the imagined exchanges between Eli and Carina, the girl he's been chatting with on Hinge, don’t add anything that we don’t already gather elsewhere.
It would have been compelling to see Blackpill: Redux fully confront the darker consequences of these behaviours, the real harm they can cause to both the individual and others. As it stands, Eli makes an abrupt about-turn, seeing the error of his ways, and the story ends with an anti-climactic, implausible final scene where makes amends. We witness how this new community uplifts him as they share the same ideas and feelings, but most men who become “radicalised” don’t experience such swift, smooth redemption. This is an opportunity to show the mess, to confront the truth, and to provoke conversation about toxic masculinity and incel culture, rather than bypass it for a tidy resolution.
Sound is a notable issue in this production. One character’s mic is turned up so loud that it pierces your eardrums, making it nearly impossible to understand what he’s shouting. Similarly, Naz, the antagonist who manipulates Eli, is presented by various actors in a wolf mask with a pre-recorded voice distortion. While the concept is intriguing in implying that anyone could be this person - even your friends, the distortion is so extreme that large chunks of dialogue border on being unintelligible.
Josh McNeill’s black, cold, angular set design, as well as Eli’s entirely black bed, visually embodies the sinkhole Eli is falling into. A screen hanging along the back of the stage, covered in a tangle of cables like a multi-tentacled octopus, displays all of Eli’s Hinge, Discord, and other social media interactions, creating an effective representation of his digital entanglements and growing isolation.
Blackpill: Redux lingers in a space that is disquieting, darkly humorous, and eerily familiar, capturing the tension of loneliness, digital obsession, and misguided desire for belonging. But while it should leave you with a chill, a sense of unease, and the uncomfortable reminder of how close these behaviours can feel to everyday life, its neatly wrapped-up ending leaves you oddly unshaken. It's as if the story backed away from the shadow it was casting.
SHOW DETAILS
Venue: Theatre Works, 14 Acland St, St Kilda
Season: until 17 Jan | Tues - Sat 7:30pm, Sat 2pm
Duration: 120 minutes (inc. interval)
Tickets: $48 Full | $38 Conc
Bookings: Theatre Works
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