Extending the long tail of works influenced by Luigi Pirandello’s box of theatrical tricks, Six Characters in Search of An Author, Sam Holcroft’s A Mirror features an author and performers hoping they won’t be searched for. Denied a permit by the minister of culture in an unnamed dictatorship, they have licensed a venue for a wedding, at which Almeida ticket-holders are guests in the flower-bowered auditorium. Following an ominous siren or knock on the door, the actors must quick-change to become nuptial participants while we are ordered to behave like a congregation.
Initially, each main actor has two identities. The registrar becomes, in the play within the wedding, state censor Čelik, both men for some reason black-gloved. The marrying couple jump in and out of bridal dress and groom suit to portray Mei, a junior at the culture ministry, and Adem, a young writer whose script is under scrutiny. The fake best man plays Bax, a pampered state-approved dramatist. But the Pirandellian pleasure comes from our awareness that there must be a third person underneath each doubling. A tiny moment when someone is revealed to have the same name on and off stage hints at what may be happening.
