Steal Compass, Drive North, Disappear

Set against an ethereal background of fairylights, white string and hanging chalkboards, Rachel Blackman takes on the lives of six different characters, portraying the effect one man's affair has on them all. The degeneration of a marriage isn't a sparklingly original concept, and this is indeed a fairly average production rife with theatrical metaphor that doesn't quite translate.

The voicemails, video messages and skype conversations add to the mix of admirably unique scenes. Each part of the story is presented in a different, ambitious way, broken up with bursts of physicality illuminating the characters' different mindsets. However, there are points at which it is obvious something is being conveyed but less evident as to what that message actually is. Flashes of Blackman walking on a tightrope are illuminating; flashes of her dancing convulsively for no apparent reason are not. The act of placing string around the room, for example, is obviously supposed to be poignant but comes across as puzzlingly pointless.

Blackman's performance swings from pitch-perfect—a scene in which a woman receives tragic news via letter is especially strong—to overcooked. Blackman's portrayal of Martin, the central male character, is cartoonish and not amusing enough to justify such exaggeration. She is at her best when at her most subtle, and the performance would be infinitely better without her tendency to throw in classic "men-only-think-with-their-pants" quips. The result is, unfortunately, a confused and broadly ineffective piece, albeit one with a few engaging moments.