Review by Olivia Ruggiero
The unorganised, chaotic and seemingly discarded tech equipment that is currently splayed across the KXT floor manages to echo the frenetic minds that Eliza Scott so beautifully inhabits in their one-person show “Pollon.” My only criticism about the show is this – the run is too short and too few people were in the audience. The seats should be packed, there should be crowds clamouring outside to see this meaningful, haunting, poignant, and clever piece of theatre.
Scott is awkwardly charming and relatable from the second they are seen, struggling to drag her equipment on stage in the darkness. The term “creator” is taken so literally as you watch Scott create the show in the space, the audience witness to her passion and brilliance. It is wonderful to become so enraptured in her charm that you don’t even notice the house lights dimming as you become fully submerged in Scott’s mind – or more accurately the minds they inhabit.
Their performance reaches each member of the audience so beautifully that it seems ironic the phrase that most sticks is “you don’t know to reach people and they don’t know how to reach you.” Scott’s combination of spoken voice, singing and movement enrapture you, encapsulate the very essence of those whose memories they are imparting and entwine the narrative together so evocatively. They take on not only the words but the physicality of the memories they are recreating to create an enthralling and at times ethereal performance that entrances you in so many ways.
Their technological prowess is no doubt impressive as there is not a hitch, every element is beautifully managed by Scott with assistance from Stage Manager, Madeleine Osborne, who continually proves herself a versatile and important member of the independent theatre scene.
The use of looping, pitch play and movement allow the complexity of the show to reach its full potential. There are times when it is confronting and uncomfortable to contemplate the complexity of the human mind and its disintegration into Alzheimer’s. This is perfectly articulated by Scott as they describe the granules of sand being swept away underwater to form some sort of underwater cliff. The metaphor leaves you reeling and questioning – who are memories for? What and who lives in our brains? What happens when someone’s memories fade – are they lost forever?
As Scott delicately washes the suit they have donned during the show there is a feeling of catharsis and a memory for any audience member who has ever lost someone they loved. The dull ache of reflecting on the very first time you wash something they once wore and bit by bit it loses their scent.
Scott is organic, loveable and genuinely hilarious – they reiterate why independent theatre and new works are important – because our stories need to be told, and our memories, however chaotic, erratic and often incomprehensible, deserve to live on. Scott has created something special – a piece of performative theatre that would change every time you see it, that will allow you to uncover new emotions for every re-watch and will certainly be etched in your mind for years to come. I beg you to buy a ticket.
Photo Credit: Yannick Jamey