Richard Hurford's cyber-thriller is a chilling study in the ambiguity of online identities, and a warning of how the contents of our hard drives come back to haunt us. It's a timely investigation of the unregulated world that many teenagers access from their bedrooms.
Marcus Romer's production for Pilot Theatre Company operates on many levels, both physically and metaphorically. The cast pace and swing within the boxes of a human zoo, emerging and disappearing behind gauzes with their images replicated by strategically placed surveillance cameras. Sandy Nuttgens's score throbs away ominously, and meaning is conveyed through projected imagery as much as the spoken word.
In fact, none of the dialogue is spoken so much as typed out loud. Most of the exchanges occur in the virtual arena of the chatroom, where ideas and identities are expressed through the fingers. It is a strange dislocation to recite what is in effect a silent conversation, and serves to make the distinction between real and imagined action even more enigmatic.
Less open to question is the consistency of the acting. The action is propelled by an astonishingly fresh and unaffected performance from Rhea Bailey as Livia, a troubled teen who seems to be posting messages from beyond the grave.
Sarah Quintrell is equally strong as Livia's elder sister or electronic alter ego, or possibly both - it's by no means easy to tell. Meriel Schofield and Mark Payton make a very credible pair of bereaved, bewildered parents, and Andrew Falvey manages to be both seraphic and sinister as a fresh-faced internet voyeur.
Pilot is to be commended for producing thorny work for young audiences that neither patronises nor condescends. But it's still the kind of drama you would like to return to your local branch of PC World so that a trained professional can dismantle it and tell you what it means.
· Until November 15, then touring. Box office: 01904 623568.
