It looked as if Caryl Churchill had been travelling around on a bus, or visiting cafes and private houses and sticky-beaking into people’s lives. Some of the scenes in L & I felt like snapshots, at others she got out her videocamera and stuck around for a while. Most of the time what she saw was vaguely interesting, sometimes amusing, and after a time you realised there weren’t going to be any particular linking themes, so you sat back and sort of enjoyed each fragment for its own sake. She touched on memory, and love – in a detached sort of a way – but it was difficult for me at least to feel particularly engaged with anyone or anything. And while the set – a hermitically sealed white box with no apparent means of exit or entrance, which blacked out between each scene – was intriguing and clever in some ways, the scene break/blackouts did interrupt the flow of the piece and I can’t help thinking it’d have been better to have simply placed the action in different parts of the stage and used lighting to direct the audience’s focus. Or better still, to have reconfigured the auditorium – which they’ve done before at the Royal Court – so the actors and audience were right there together and you felt you really were eavesdropping.
That was my opinion anyway.