“You are cured of your humanity. You are free.” This production of 1984 at the Arts Theatre, directed by Lindsay Posner, was full of uncomfortable juxtapositions like this. The audience chuckled during harrowing torture scenes; the stage was bare whilst the soundscape was overwhelmingly busy. To us, the phrase “memory is nationalised” seems too hyperbolic to be serious, but in 1984, that extreme totalitarianism is the horrifying reality. The audience were immediately exposed to this as we entered the auditorium facing our very own ‘Big Brother’ camera, highlighting our faces as we took to our seats. Watching ourselves being watched was the perfect way to drop us into the deep end as the curtains lifted and the role of the camera eerily shifted to being a part of the performance.

“If there was one aspect in which the show truly excelled, it was the tech design”

If there was one aspect in which the show truly excelled, it was the tech design. The only criticism to be levelled is that it perhaps depends a little too heavily on these aspects to deliver its punch. This is not to say it prioritised style over substance – just that set, costume and video designer Justin Nardella, lighting designer Paul Pyant and sound designer Giles Thomas deserve high billing. The use of projections was no gimmick and quickly became central to the building of this sinister world. The sheer scale of the screen was imposing enough, and every face shown on it seemed grotesque in its proportions. The grainy news footage and stark, flickering video calls were convincingly dystopian, but the standout moment came when Winston and Julia escape into the woods. Showing the couple lying on the floor from above smartly subverted a typical romantic image by reminding us that there is no way to escape being watched. The following pan-up from the forest floor to the surroundings, as Winston panics that he can hear noises, increased the power of the action and put us straight in the head of the characters. Sounds such as buzzers and alarms were piercing and kept us constantly on edge, and the subtle depiction of Big Brother’s face in the marks on the prison wall at the end was a particular coup.

The cast is particularly small considering the vast scale of the issues the play tackles: within this the role of Winston Smith, here played by Mark Quartley, is vital. Quartley’s performance was impressive from the very beginning. His initial portrayal of Winston as half-hearted and anxious, despite chanting “We love Big Brother!” repeatedly, rightly unnerved the audience, emphasising the divide between his speech and behaviour. His likeability as a victim of the system, desperately wanting to break out of it, made his story all the more tragic.

“Quartley’s performance was impressive from the very beginning”

The second act was torture – both in the literal and in the emotional sense – but these gut-wrenching scenes were depicted expertly by Quarterly. His diminished body language, his small convulsions after undergoing electrical chair torture, and his sheer humiliation as he was forced to strip completely nude, were genuinely haunting to watch. When Quarterly stepped back onto the stage for the final scene, his robotic tone of voice indicated he had been successfully brainwashed. As the curtains closed and a small smile crept across his face, we knew that Winston was not even a shell of the man he once was.

The other principal performances – Eleanor Wyld as Julia and Keith Allen as O’Brien – were also very strong. There was a quiet power in the way that Allen was most often spookily detached, explaining his hateful ideals as if he were having an impassioned dinner table conversation. He convincingly embodied both parts of his character – what he is thought to be by Winston and what he truly is – and the two coalesced uncomfortably. All we wanted was for him to be more – more frightening, more sickening, more blood-chillingly evil. Wyld skillfully conveyed some stark transitions in her performance, both overall and in individual scenes, going from lying in Winston’s arms to manically yelling revolutionary sentiments. The only detracting factor was that her presence was a little too soft and wholesome for the part – a little too childish in her mannerisms in her initial encounters with Winston to be taken seriously as a rebel from the get-go.

A realistic portrayal of torture is incredibly difficult on stage, so we thought the choice to have the iconic Room 101 scene performed in total blackout paid off. The darkness was disconcerting, a major contrast to the stark white wash throughout the majority of the play. Quarterly’s screams of fear echoed throughout the theatre and pierced our ears (much as the rats were close to piercing his face … too soon?), creating one of the most shocking and emotionally charged moments of the production.

Ultimately, we’re knocking off a star for reasons that are hard to place (what makes a production great rather than very good?) but there are a few nameable factors. The supporting performances lacked the absolute lustre of excellence; the element of spectacle may have taken over slightly. There was nothing exactly groundbreaking brought out in this production of a well-known text. Though perhaps we shouldn’t say anymore, because Big Brother is always watching after all…

‘1984’ is showing at the Cambridge Arts Theatre from Tuesday 22nd to Saturday 26th October, 7:30pm.