The Human Computer – Battersea Arts Centre, London

Writer/Director: Will Adamsdale

Reviewer: Jemma Bicknell & Rick Grant

The Public Reviews Rating:

First assembled in 2006, Will Adamsdale’s The Human Computer enjoyed a run at the Edinburgh Fringe the following year, and here returns to the Battersea Arts Centre for a second showing. Adamsdale’s theatrical resume is extensive, including a Perrier award for his one man show, ‘Jackson’s Way’. The Human Computer is another solo effort with a charmingly ramshackle set fashioned out of cardboard boxes and felt-tip pens.

The Human Computer tells the story of our protagonist’s constant struggle with the endless source of infuriation that is the humble desktop PC, blending observational comedy and a healthy dose of audience interaction with self-sufficient theatre. At times pleasing, yet sometimes awkward, the mix of self-deprecating stand up comedy and fantasy tale are woven together to take us on a tour of Adamsdale’s ineptitude at working with technology. This later becomes the source of the action; Adamsdale assumes the role of a classic hero, ‘the chosen one’, because his inability to understand computers makes him immune to the danger of the ‘devil numbers’ – those befuddling clumps of code that zip by every time you start your PC. We follow him through a melodramatic journey inside the computer, making friends with the cursor ‘arrow’ and enemies of the ‘annoying symbols at the bottom of the screen’. The names he assigned to the characters were part of the charm of his offering at the beginning of the show. The audience laughed knowingly as he wittily captured our empathy, relating to phrases all too often heard in the office or even just sat at home.

My inner-child marvelled at the cardboard box set when a few surprises were thrown in. Using crafty, yet amusingly shoddy pulley-work, perspective was created above the audience’s heads through the use of mini-dolls and replicas of the larger set. Pop-ups literally popped up, along with the £1 stickers still pasted on the boxes from which they were made.

There were some lovely moments dotted throughout the action. The strongest part of the show was, for me, the first section, with the Battersea Arts Centre’s cosy surroundings making it easy to enjoy the audience participation Adamsdale effortlessly invoked. Various members waved cardboard symbols and clapped in unison to create a ‘double-click’ – an unfortunate man even got lumbered with Viagra spam. You felt, though, that our human computer could have explored this area further, as he built a few ideas up only to leave them idle.

Later, the audience were able to pick from a number of ‘programs’, serving as a prompt for the more conventional stand-up/storytelling element of the show. Some of it fell a little flat, but the ‘dance he did every five years or so’ was wonderful, and his guitar-accompanied song showcased his fine voice and droll lyrics. His slight resemblance to Robin Williams made his heartfelt film-ending pastiche very worthy of a chuckle too, and the sheer amount of effort exterted made us believe in his lack of knowledge, even if we knew deep down that he’s probably improved in leaps and bounds since his Brixton-based Internet course days.

Overall, Will Adamsdale was an amiable chap, able to keep us entertained in a show that perhaps went on a little too long, with the last section somewhat weaker than the first two. We left feeling that the production could have been tied together a little tighter, but ultimately cheery and even a little nostalgic for the days before we became attached to our monitors and mice.