xx

There is roughly a 1 in 2.45 billion chance you will meet the one, and a 1 in 36 trillion chance you’ll see the same performance of xx as I saw. Jack Bradfield’s incredibly fresh script explores chance encounters with a structure decided by luck. It is witty, funny and sad in equal measure, jumping between emotions as often as between characters.

With echoes of Barrel Organ’s 2014 Fringe hit Nothing, the actors of each monologue and duologue are decided afresh every night. Frustratingly, the algorithm is calculated before the audience walk in, but a whiteboard stands at the back of the stage to remind us of the unfixed and uncertain nature of this play, and indeed of love.

With welcome nonchalance towards sexual preference, the cast of five dive into human emotions of like, lust and love. The actors don’t all seem entirely comfortable onstage, and the bungee chords used to create scenes don’t help, getting actors in a tangle whilst slowing the pace of Bradfield’s fast script.

The scientific strand of writing is pushed over in favour of astrology, as talk of the moon and stars drifts a little too close to sickly sweet cliché, but is forgiven for the wit of a silent Tube scene and an extravagantly romantic serenade. Though one or two more abstract monologues are difficult to follow, Bradfield’s sharp, imaginative writing is the star of this show.

The ending wraps up the play too neatly, stripping away the nuance and subtlety from the random, beautifully uneven encounters. Though flawed, xx is a great watch and the work of an extremely promising playwright.