by Jon Grant and Michelle Stratton
In a world dictated by technology, in a society where efficiency and not personality is key, Steve, an easy-going IT expert, and Hayley, a fiercely ambitious management consultant, struggle to co-exist in Laura Wade’s new drama Other Hands. They are drawn to each other through a shared inability to grasp their own feelings.

Yet, Other Hands isn’t so much a story about the entanglement of love and the complications arising within the secret politics of relationships that mount with every passing year, but a commentary on how we attempt to relate with one another in a world surrounded by machines. From Steve’s focus on virtual role-play games, to the forays into internet dating of Lydia, the neurotic victim of society’s efficiency drive, Wade suggests that we have, and are, growing apart from humanity in an attempt to find a role or acceptance in society.

As the main characters continually fail to relate with one another, they find this inability manifests itself in the form of RSI, a debilitating injury of, in this instance, the hands, which ultimately render both characters disabled as they struggle to grasp their feelings for one another. This plot is played out cleverly, and is a truly original thread in this otherwise clichéd mix of attempted affairs and friendships-that-threaten-to-go-further.

However, the best scenes belong to the portrayals of said affairs and friendships. The “sex” scene between Greg (Michael Gould) and Hayley (Anna Maxwell Martin) is extremely clever and, despite each character’s overall lack of depth, genuinely comes to life. It develops the characters with it as we begin to wonder upon Hayley’s declared intention to “sleep with another man”.

Another great moment comes from Steve’s dalliance with Lydia. She asks, as he’s so good with computers, if he can fix her kettle? It is a moment that mades me reassess our dependence on technology, when we can’t as a species or as a man perform the tasks our ancestors’ ancestors were doing with just some sticks and a couple of pieces of flint.

Wade’s writing, befitting of one of Britain’s most prodigal young talents and recent winner of the Critics Circle Award for Most-Promising Playwright, is exceptionally sharp at times. Her contrasts between the misery that befalls us from not understanding this alien technology and the happiness derived from nature, be that the sun, sunflowers, or the metaphorical sunshine of love, show subtlety. The dialogue is incisive and accurate to the point of being brave. (If I were writing this I fear I would not broach the “cunt/pussy” debate.)

The Soho Theatre is an excellent venue for such an intimate work, while the geometrically-designed set and Guy Kornetskzi’s cold lighting add to the sense of melancholic hopelessness. The pulsating music and binary-shaped lighting between scenes similarly aided to highlight the growing dominance of machine over mankind.

However, where Other Hands falls down is in the performances. Seldom did I feel, except perhaps for Katherine Parkinson’s phobically vulnerable Lydia, that the language in the script was played out convincingly. The words were an unhappy fusion of impeccably RADA-esque accents and dialogue peppered with anger, emotion, and the language of you and I.

This well-written and perceptive, yet ultimately unfulfilling, drama goes so close to ticking all the right boxes. Yet, while it attempts to attack modern living, it lacks any real creativity in doing so, and thus fails to quite get there. Nevertheless, it still provides an enjoyable and thought-provoking night out.

Links: The theatre and booking details. An interview with Anna Maxwell Martin, and with Laura Wade.