In many ways, this play – this probe into the way these minds of ours work – is quite unsettling, yet strangely comforting at the same time. It’s comforting to know that we’re not alone in our somewhat blurry and confused states of being. And yet, it’s disconcerting to realise we’re all as lost as each other. In this topsy-turvy world, language is everything – but unfortunately, it’s not enough.
It’s never enough.
Curious Incident shines a light on the absurdities of humanity. We spend our lives desperately trying to understand each other and ourselves. To do so, we borrow the language of the ‘other’ so we can try – just try to begin to make sense of the nonsensical. We wait in line, patiently; we stand alone, until we’re able to partner up with an unknown, just to go for a spin and feel the heat of the spotlight, for a night. An incident. Trans. ‘incident – an instance of something happening’. A curious something.
But the ‘other’ – that void within our words; that emptiness behind our glazed eyes; that beat of silence between our proclamations; the stutters that surround our promises; the sound of a wine glass being replaced on a table when the last sip has been sipped and the conversation has faltered because the soundtrack has been switched – that ‘other’ is the reason we’re always alone. We can be surrounded by people and totally alone. Together alone.
We’re all misfits – just trying to find our footing on a ladder that leads to another somewhere.
It’s all cloudy.
We are a mere incident.
Much like Jonathan.
If anything, his mind is the only thing that actually makes sense. He’s the heart of the metaphor, the scream behind the silence; his nightmare is our daydream.
(I’ve broken all the rules. This isn’t a review. I haven’t given you a synopsis. There is no ‘critique’. But sorry but you won’t find a hidden apology lurking underneath the surface).
Because Jonathan has reminded me how important the truth is – how the little things count. What’s more, he’s shown just how beautiful ‘simple’ can be. This play is a celebration of the simple, beautiful truth of life – and how we, through our fear of being vulnerable and visible, bury it – much like a dog would bury a bone. Or much like we would bury a dog.
How curious we are.