I Still Have No Friends

A young woman addresses an audience at a youth leadership conference when there is a huge explosion, a blinding light, and then… darkness.

So begins a twenty-first century retelling of Lord of the Flies, where instead of an island, it’s a conference centre; in place of the conch, is a school blazer, but the power dynamics of high schoolers trying to work out how to survive is familiar.

It’s the first production from Odd Sockz Theatre, which was borne out of the closure of SAYarts early in 2024. Four students from that now-defunct organisation set up their own company, with a vision to create opportunities for young artists. This production of an Alby T Grace written show from 2018 presents fifteen young actors who perform a variety of characters trying to make sense of a new world without adults.

There’s a lot of fear amongst them, which leads to extreme reactions of screaming, shouting and running – tensions are high, and it doesn’t take much to push anyone over the edge. There are power struggles between a rational, natural leader in Serafina, and the louder bully tactics of Mac – all the time, the smart Sally has her own agenda, which defaults to self-preservation over those she deems inferior to her own intelligence.

There’s a mixture of talent here: Emily Chapman’s Serafina is initially strong, and Vaughan Galloway’s gains confidence as his character Mac becomes less grunt and more street-smart. And the declining mental health of attack-dog Rags is played with great detail, even when she’s not speaking (or attacking).

The flow is ruined by bad tech – particularly mistimed lighting and sound cues – which bring the audience out of the world the performers are working hard to create, and there are scene changes that further punctuate a pace that needs to keep going. The story itself is good as an examination of how people behave in a crisis, though its strength is not as a linear, developing narrative: there are critical plot points that seem to be discarded as soon as they no longer serve the story.

It can get chaotic on the narrow stage in the Mercury Cinema: the crazed food orgy and anarchic fights go from zero to eleven and back again without much explanation, and with up to fifteen people moving around, it can be difficult to know where to look.

The aims of the company are sound and to be encouraged – and it’s wonderful to see new faces on a Fringe stage, but perhaps like the story on stage, having too many directors means pulling in different directions, and maybe a single focus would tighten the showcase of writing and performance.

Review by Mark Wickett

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