Pedestrian
Royal Exchange Studio 

As a rule, art, films, books, TV and theatre manipulative.

They twist the way we think and feel in an effort to elicit an interpretation or a meaning. Pedestrian is one of those rare exceptions; a play which bombards you with images, feelings and thoughts but refuses to prescribe a “meaning”.

Sitting in a small room, among a trendy audience, watching a young man talk to himself about his bizarre hallucinations, in front of psychotropic visuals, this can be a hard situation to accept. It’s very easy to give up, to say that this show is simply ridiculous, meaningless or just “too difficult”.

Whatever Pedestrian is, however, is not difficult. It’s witty, wry, well observed, each vision more vivid and fantastic that the last. Tom Wainwright holds the stage like an assured stand-up.

Yes, initially, the experience feels awkward, as if he sets out to directly challenge the audience, to single you out personally as a prime example of one his abusive character types. It is, however, captivating, with realisation coming slowly, as the schizophrenic script fades to leave only the events and landscapes in your head.

It isn’t just a one man show though.

Films, TV and theatre are often accused of being too dependent upon special effects but, in Pedestrian, the video and sound design of Simon Wainwright (no relation) is as much a character as Tom.

Simon causes the voices of strangers to pour, dreamlike, from Tom’s mouth, weaves acting and dancing together with music and cuts it dead with unexpected noises and sudden silences. His pulsing, swirling animations, projected and glowing inside a glass fish bowl, demand attention.

Because of this, Pedestrian rushes madly through a thousand thoughts and interpretations and, if it does one thing alone, it proves that “meaning” can’t be dictated by a writer, actor or director. Meaning, in reality, can only be decided by us, the audience.

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