Institute

Gecko Theatre Group

West Yorkshire Playhouse

Filing away, Martin mutters to himself in a Kafka-esque environment of uniformed ceiling high cabinets. With a vast empty centre stage, we appear to be in a warehouse but nothing is as it seems in Institute.

Artistic director, Amit Lahav, researched mental health and care before loosely projecting his findings into this thought-provoking piece of physical theatre. His scenario initially appears to be depicting a mundane day in the life of two colleagues: Daniel and Martin.

It’s still possible to view both characters as bored workers, even after the lights illuminate their surreal dance routine – the upbeat music is almost work-like in rhythm and is complemented by their repetitive movement. It’s the introduction of a mysterious Big Brother figure called Karl who reprimands them through a tannoy that suggests something more sinister. A brilliantly choreographed and awkwardly funny conversation between Daniel, Martin and Karl almost hints towards split personality. Their synchronised dual conversation is presented without Karl’s exchanges, again suggesting it’s one-sided and possibly in their heads – that is until we meet Karl and everything rather misleadingly seems to make sense.

The arrival of the fourth actor challenges interpretation once again when Louis switches between the role of Karl’s assistant to putting on a soft voice, wig, lipstick and orange coat to pretend to be Martin’s ex-girlfriend. Louis’ role is further complicated by foggy flashbacks in German and a harrowing scene in a glass cell.

The inclusion of a buzzer adds to Institute’s uncertain plot as every time Martin goes to open a particular cabinet drawer, the Pavlovian style sound effect is heard. The German sounding doctor figure makes you wonder whether Martin and Daniel are part of some kind of science experiment and strange strap-on arm poles are reminiscent of Clockwork Orange, further reinforcing this idea.

In its simplest form, Institute clearly explores the idea of mental health through character behaviour and movement. Daniel’s spasms and involuntary body movements are almost like ticks, dance routines could be interpreted as therapy and flashes to Daniel/Martin’s pasts suggest mental breakdowns prompted by rejection and career failings. Martin being pushed back and forth by attached wooden poles like a puppet suggests care can be controlling, supportive and/or inhibitive.

Rhys Jarman and Amit Lahav’s set is innovative with Martin pulling out a filing cabinet drawer only to reveal a chair and table. Cabinets are used as ladders and to represent compartmentalised memories while disconcerting objects like mannequins are wheeled on and off stage.

Dave Price’s musical accompaniment is perfectly pitched, radically shifting from cutesy easy listening to jarring instrumental chimes to accompany nightmarish traumatic flashbacks. In the same way German and French dialogue may be symbolic of both the patients’ lack of understanding and doctors’ inability to use laymen’s terms, Price’s soundtrack possibly represents a shift in the character’s circumstance while also signifying mood swings often seen as synonymous with a variety of mental health conditions.

Despite the lack of interval, Institute still feels like a two-parter with a particularly sombre second half. It’s fast-paced, cleverly choreographed and demands a lot from both its audience and talented cast (Chris Evans, Amit Lahav, Ryen Perkins-Gangnes and Francois Testory) with continuous movements as some scenes are almost played on repeat. Funny, moving, fascinating, puzzling, creepy, compelling... Institute is both life affirming and life questioning. Lahav encapsulated the highs and lows of certain mental illnesses but provides little more than outlines and shades of meaning, challenging us to digest, interpret and discuss the show.

Leo Owen