Clive at Arcola Theatre Review
Written by Greta for Theatre & Tonic
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in exchange for an honest review
Anyone who’s ever had an office job knows just how intense work dynamics can get. A workplace is its own ecosystem, full of in-jokes, unnoticed alliances, and unspoken routines. Clive, written by Michael Wynne and directed by Lucy Bailey, taps into this fertile territory to tell the story of a man slowly unravelling under the weight of modern isolation and paranoia.
Thomas used to appreciate the camaraderie of the office, including Friday pub drinks, chats by the coffee machine, and a sense of community that brought him out of his shell. Those days are now gone, with his company having gone fully remote, and are replaced by a Zoom background that reveals just the right amount, email replies (which, when left unanswered, send anxiety spiralling), and fragmented human exchanges where tone and intent are hard to read. Thomas – earnestly played by Paul Keating – insists he likes working from home, but we get the sense that, without the physical rhythm of office life, something in him is beginning to fray.
In Thomas’s world, Clive the cactus - a gift from his ex-boyfriend Johnny - is his only real companion. Thomas hasn’t replaced the social structure he’s lost, and he doesn’t seem aware that something’s missing; Clive offers him the strength, comfort, and warmth that human interaction no longer provides. Thomas shares his life with Clive by keeping it in the loop of the work drama, fussing over the amount of watering it receives, and dancing with it in an (imaginary) buzzing nightclub.
The writing almost edges toward psychological thriller territory. Thomas’s CEO Nigel, has vanished without explanation, Sue from accounts has taken redundancy, and Naomi, who Thomas is convinced has it in for him, only ever contacts him when something’s gone wrong; he’s certain she’s plotting to take him down. Additionally, there are hints that we shouldn’t fully trust Thomas’s version of events; the play teases the idea that his perspective might not be entirely accurate, prompting us to start to re-evaluate what we’ve seen; frustratingly, this tension is never fully explored. Just when it seems we’re building to a revelation that will flip everything on its head, the moment passes. The ambiguity is intriguing, but ultimately underdone.
Mike Britton’s set design is phenomenal. The set, pristine and aseptic, mirrors Thomas’s seemingly controlled inner world. Rows of neat, white box-like cupboards suggest both confinement and routine - a clinical space that Thomas navigates cheerfully, little beacons of his quirky personality occasionally shining through. The cupboards sometimes serve as windows into Thomas’s colourful inner world, mirroring the actual windows he keeps looking out of, following the day-to-day activities of familiar strangers.
The theme of isolation is at the heart of Clive, which catapults us in the life of a lonely, lively, sensitive soul. How much of it is a façade, though, put in place to avoid accessing a deeper, more unfamiliar kind of pain? Strange, intimate acts of disconnection are portrayed strikingly, and Clive can be poignant and fun in its best moments. However, without a fuller evisceration of its narrative, the show ends up like its protagonist: getting a little lost in its own routines.
Clive plays at Arcola Theatre until 23 Aug
★ ★ ★
