Ikaria – Tightrope Theatre / Park Theatre, London

Ikaria is a desolating portrait of how love is not always all you need.

Content warning: references to anxiety and depression.

Ikaria

Well I wasn’t expecting that.  Philippa Lawford’s Ikaria, on at the Park Theatre until 2 December, seems like it’s going to be a story of student life, self-discovery, that sort of thing.  It’s not not that, but it’s so much more.  Ikaria is an insightful, truthful, absolutely devastating exploration of (men’s) mental health and the impossibility of finding salvation in another.

It starts gently enough.  Mia (Andrea Gatchalian) and Simon (James Wilbraham) meet at a student social event.  They hit it off, but Simon is hilariously bad at picking up on the signals Mia lays down.  She persists, however, and the two become an item.  Or they’re talking, or whatever the kids say today.  I don’t know, when I went to university we barely had laptops or mobile phones.  You get the idea.

What is apparent from the outset to all but Mia, however, is that Simon isn’t doing well. He’s back after a year out: glandular fever, he says.  He’s a bit behind on his coursework but that should be OK.  He and Mia focus on getting to know each other, only Simon doesn’t tend to want to go out a lot. So they stay in. Mia, a fresher, is meeting new people, making connections, and grafting to create opportunities post-university. Until, that is, she starts to feel her most important role is right here with Simon.

A Personal Odyssey

The premise is simple, but the effect of Ikaria is immense.  This is partly thanks to the writing: that this is Lawford’s first full-length play is mightily impressive.  But it’s most certainly also the acting.  Both Gatchalian and Wilbraham are talented, but Wilbraham turns out an exceptional performance here.  The way he is so uncomfortable in his skin, so close to no longer holding it together, is palpable and excruciating.  This sense grows as he has more to hide from Mia (and himself), until it’s almost overwhelming.  The audience feels for Simon, and for Mia in her inability to help.  The best and worst quality of young love is perhaps its optimism.

This is also a play with a classical bent, however.  And not just in that Simon is reading Classics (I’m sure they’re at the sort of university where you ‘read’ rather than study a subject).  Ikaria Court, the halls Simon lives in, is meant to take its name from a Greek island where the architect had his honeymoon.  That Ikaria is also reputed to be named for Icarus, and approximate the location of the fall of the boy who flew too close to the sun, is no coincidence.  Ikaria the play is overshadowed by absent or difficult fathers: the most touching scene is one where Simon reads from The Odyssey, expressing a vicarious longing for a father’s pride in his son.  It’s not so easy to launch yourself into the world when your wings are made from wax and there’s no safety net beneath you. Will Simon overcome the obstacles before him and find his way ‘home’, wherever or whatever that is?

Final Thoughts On Ikaria

The set in the Park Theatre’s smaller venue recreates a student dorm room effectively (there is no credit in the freesheet for the design so I don’t know who was channelling their own student days there). The lighting (Shane Gill) perhaps underlines the emotional peaks and troughs a little too forcefully, but not overly so.  There isn’t too much, therefore, to detract from the performances.

Wilbraham is absolutely one to watch, as is Lawford.  The latter’s direction is as good as her writing, drawing out the stiller and quieter moments to allow us into Simon and Mia’s worlds. I felt wrung out coming out of Ikaria, but was absolutely enthralled by it.  Do go and see it, it’s got to be one of the most emotionally honest and shattering things on in London right now.

Salterton Arts Review’s rating: 4.5/5

Ikaria on until 2 December 2023