Auditorium

Auditorium is introduced by a wide-eyed boy selling peanuts and coke. He wanders through the seats: "leave your phones on," he bawls. "Smoke, it doesn’t matter." His off-kilter smile suggests some kind of silly zeal, as if, already, he’s tricked the audience. The characters onstage are unlike those who greet you – drab, goofy, tied up in the hum-drum workings of an Edinburgh bookshop. About fifteen minutes in, however, the group discover a "portal" in the storeroom of the shop. They can see and interact with the paying crowd and gradually discover an elaborate scheme involving an alternate reality and a plan to buy out the bookshop.

Tom Cranshaw’s script is quite excellent. It appears the plot could develop in several different directions, and that tonight's path is decided entirely by the audience and the advice they choose to give. In the final moments of the performance the fate of the loveable bookshop owner is left to the crowd – his future depends on the audience’s understanding of a rather complex plot device. The technique of implicating the viewer is not a new one—see this as a sort of tongue-in-cheek Cache made for the stage—but here it makes for many laughs and a (possibly) wistful finale. Save for the mildly played Matrix style alter-reality storyline, Auditorium is a well delivered and curious performance.