←Recommendations of Atlas, the Lonely Gibbon

I'm a fan of Deborah Yarchun. I binge-read everything of hers that's on NPX. This play is absolutely of the moment and so relevant to our lives. Deborah deftly juxtaposes our love of technology with our crushing fear of it. Hers is a world where technology progresses faster than we mere mortals can control...where the cyber-world often seems more real than our own. Atlas is an off-kilter domestic thriller that is all the more terrifying because it's horror is not beyond the realm of possibility.

A hilarious, tense, cringe-inducing thriller — and I don't take genre theatre lightly. Sci Fi in that it takes place, like, five years from now. The internet of things – not things-in-themself, things in your fucking house. A great play. And boy, does it have robofucking. Atona's monologue is one of my favorite pieces of writing I've found this year. And right before, some good advice for these upcoming times. "Whenever you want guidance, forget it."

Good luck everybody.

One of those plays I read through in one sitting, then started over again to see how it reads once you know everything that's actually going on. And the second experience is as entertaining, intense and funny as the first. As a working journalist and a playwright myself, I can say that Yarchun's vision of the future, while layered with genuine affection and humor to soften (some of) the blows, is frighteningly spot-on, and often feels not-so-futuristic at all.

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this sense that, the more connected and integrated we make our lives, the more vulnerable we are. This play taps into some very relatable fears around the accelerated pace of technological progress, while at the same time diving into even more relatable fears of being replaced, of disconnecting from each other, of being alone in an increasingly changing world. It's tense, it's funny, it's deeply human, and has one of the most chilling final moments I've read in quite some time.

In the dying world of journalism, can these two make it through as they battle technology? Thought provoking and well done.

It's a grounded relationship drama, except when it's brainy speculative sci-fi, except when it's deft verbal comedy, except when it's chilling technohorror. A smart and urgent play with tantalizing design possibilities and some visceral moments that really make me want to see it fully staged.

What a wonderful way to address the loneliness of our world and its technology, how tech that should bring us together is tearing us apart, and how it plays out in this moving and very funny play! Thank you Deborah Yarchun for this deep exploration of how we connect and disconnect with each other. Truly captures the anxiety of our time.

This play, y'all. It voices so many of the little fears and microaggressions spurred on by the encroaching technology in our lives. (The homage to Gas Light in the form of a smart lightbulb is stunning.) And amidst the terrifying automation is a streak of delightful theatricality, with quick changes between VR and real life, animal transformations, and the puppetry behind the bionic arms. A definite conversation starter! This is vivid sci-fi.

A beautiful, funny, incisive, unsettling, and, above all, human exploration of the ways technology has impacted our ability to connect with one another--for the better and the worse! The sci-fi world feels effortlessly woven without a hint of capital E "Exposition," and both the technological and emotional realities of this future are well rendered. The examination of Irene and David's marriage, the heart of the play, is sad and sharp and funny all at once. It neither condemns nor excuses either of them. The titular primate, Atlas, is a subtle perfect metaphor/counterpoint for the human relationships on display.

Deborah Yarchun's cautionary ATLAS, THE LONELY GIBBON paints a pretty terrifying picture of where we're headed in our increasingly tech-dependent world; among many lines that resonate, this one stood out for me: "You know, what’s wrong with using a switch with a lightbulb? With turning a key? With touching things?"

Disturbing, funny, and brilliant, this play needs to be produced and seen. And for once, I'm beginning to see the benefits of being a luddite.