Christopher Boone is 15 and lives in Swindon, England, with his dad. His mother died of a heart attack while in hospital. Christopher is on the autism spectrum. If someone touches him, he goes to pieces. For him, the sentient world is overwhelming. It comes amplified and faster than he can process. He has coping mechanisms, but they only take him so far. Needless to say, the world doesn’t always choose to deal positively with Christopher, or even adequately. He’s intelligent and sharp. He’s especially keen at maths. He goes to school, sharing his notebook with Siobhan, his school teacher. It’s she that narrates our play.
One morning Christopher finds the neighbor’s dog has been killed. By someone with a gardening fork. Christopher is quite fond of his now deceased friend, and resolves to find the culprit, ignoring the orders of his dad. In this way, he’s no different than any other teenager. He visits the neighbors, meeting with various degrees of warmth, cynicism and hostility. When he lets slip that he’s been doing detective work, his dad (not necessarily a bad chap) becomes increasingly irate. Gradually his dad, in a fit of anger, confiscates Christopher’s notebook and hides it. In the process of getting it back, Christopher finds dozens of letters, addressed to him. He opens one and another. The penny drops, and he discovers his mother is still alive. Badly wounded by his father’s dishonesty, Christopher sets out to find his mother in London, counting on his reasoning skills, and the cooperation of others. If he’s thought that far.
Adapted by Simon Stephens from Mark Haddon’s novel of the same name, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time invites us into Christopher’s grasp of a life and world that (I think we can all agree) isn’t always welcoming or humane. But more than that. We see that strangers aren’t always untrustworthy. We see he can’t always rely on those that any of us might. We see the exquisite, phenomenal perception that thrives in the gentlest part of his brain. The access we seek within ourselves, when we’re in need of bandage. Haddon and Stephens achieve empathy for Christopher, without condescension or playing the audience. They want respect for their hero, who is neither cuddly nor helpless. And yet how deeply we care for him.
In a post-performance conversation with one of the actors, he mentioned how utterly production particulars of Curious are wed to content. Truer words. It’s some kind of dazzling to witness how the blocking and set pieces, and projections, and sound, and sympathetic response from the players all converge to reflect the interface between Christopher and what happens outside of him. When he must navigate a train station, or subway, or stairway. When he’s taking in the landscape from a train, rocket ship, or his bedroom window. We’re right there with him.
How does director Chris Berthelot bring his keen eye and sense of harmony to a drama with so many moving parts? Part painter, part conductor, part composer. Performance, music, movement, images, noise. They must all line up. I don’t want to go into too much detail here, but the way this story is conceived requires the participants to rethink theatrical tropes. Another realm is summoned. A different compass is needed. Berthelot has assembled a determined, confident, dedicated cast of focused and completely involved players, to change the way we see. If you love vibrant, kinetic, surprising theatre, don’t miss ACT’S The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time.
Allen Contemporary Theare presents: The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, playing March 17th-April 2nd, 2023. 1210 E Main Street, #300, Allen, TX, United States, Texas. (844) 822-8849. allencontemporarytheatre.net