Under Glass
Most of the time, the dark is to be feared. Sometimes it can mean contentment.
Given that Under Glass consists of four performers in glass cases, a measured spoken text that seems to describe a post-apocalyptic village and a soundtrack of judders, cracks and sudden melodies, this is an oddly comforting show. Staged in the darkness, the figures emerge, perform their dances of alienation and discomfort, then slide back into oblivion.
The themes of frustration – an office clerk is annoyed by a lamp before stripping off his suit; a woman rolls over grass and presses against her container – are obvious and the anxiety palpable. Rather than going full tilt for the torment, however, the show suggests that the limits can be accommodated and that the discomfort can be alleviated and even escaped.
The glass coffins are simple metaphors for limitation, but this is more than a mere essay on life's horror. Each character is able to adjust and settle, and the final darkness is comforting rather than frightening.