Review: THE LAST MAN, Southwark Playhouse Elephant
The Korean hit musical is adapted into a tremendous English language solo show.
A virus has decimated the entire population, turning them into zombies. Or has it? Whilst all hell breaks loose, a man is isolating in a bunker alone. Deep underground, with his thoughts as his only company and entertainment, his reality slowly alters. Why do we keep going in the face of hardship? Is the fight for survival enough to define a life?
Jishik Kim and Seungyeon Kwon’s hit musical hails straight from South Korea in a re-imagined version with Jethro Compton at the dramaturgy and Daljung Kim at the direction. Led by Lex Lee (who shares the role with Nabi Brown through the run), it’s a spunky, bleak, compassionate, riveting piece of solo theatre.
Writer Kim leaves a lot up to interpretation. The Survivor exists in a limbo, a bubble that’s at once removed from its universe and yet completely dependent on it. Growls drift in from the outside, punctuating his monologue, while our hero adapts to life below the surface. Lee (who took on the role on press night) is an exquisite performer; alone on stage, he fills it with charismatic flair and a cracking personality. He dives into the cheeky side of the work before despair hits, and suddenly, on the 100th day of confinement, gone are the sarcastic remarks and black comedy of the first act.
As we turn the corner, another tonal shift unfolds, further meddling with our perception of the story. Three months in, his provisions are going off, his water has been cut, and all his devices have died. The previous framing (The Survivor has been recording daily videos for posterity) is abandoned, and a stuffed teddy becomes his interlocutor. This is where Kim properly lets doubt sink in. What started as a clever apocalyptic musical that rides the wave of the most recent virus outbreaks becomes, believe it or not, much darker.
Kwon’s original rock score is an exciting mix of high-energy songs and more thoughtful, slower numbers. The translation beautifully leans on Korean terms that tie into what The Survivor is feeling, like the concept of Jeong (정, a sort of non-romantic platonic affection). Culturally speaking, while the text has been adapted into English, it remains securely rooted in Asian tradition.
The character eats Shin Ramyun, drinks Maxim, and ties in his love for Choco-Pie (a chocolatey, marshmellowy snack) into a melancholic track about spending his birthday with his mum. Phone calls come in clipped Korean too. It’s a sweet and grounding nod to the original production.
Shankho Chaudhuri’s set is a playground for the actor. Boxes litter the grey-scale shelter, while posters of popular disaster films dot the walls. It starts off untidy and gets progressively messier, mirroring The Survivor’s state of mind and becoming as central as our protagonist. Director Kim leverages The Survivor’s vlogging to move the focus around the space, live-streaming the footage directly from The Survivor's mobile to a series of screens dotted above the stage. While the stream falters throughout, it adds to the dystopian vibe of it all.
The show is a remarkable achievement. From the range of interpretation to the arresting charisma needed to carry the performance, it’s a success. The material is also very strong. The lyrics are narrative and smooth, delving into the psychological complexity of solitude and laterally offering a societal critique without many frills.
(Spoilers ahead!) The easy answer to The Survivor’s situation is that he is a Eundunhyeong oetori (은둔형 외톨이), the Korean variant of the Japanese Hikikomori, a reclusive person who willingly abandons society to be alone. Yet, the inconsistencies in the events throw us off (the phone rings even if it’s dead; the teddy moves on its own; we don’t hear the same noises…).
It’s fun to speculate about the nature of the plot. Is The Survivor a failed doomsday prepper who’s pushed over the brink by the effects of loneliness and malnutrition, or is his condition far more complicated? You’re assured to have an interesting conversation afterwards
The Last Man runs at Southwark Playhouse Elephant until 13 June.
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