Review: Rogue Machine’s ‘anthropology’ at Matrix Theatre
- Anthony Gutierrez
- Nov 1
- 4 min read
No matter how often we are reminded, it’s hard to fathom how much of our lives are online. TV, movies and true crime podcasts are replete with digital sleuths combing the internet for clues. Every transaction, message, and location is recorded. Cameras see where someone has been and calendar-invites can reveal where someone will go. Even the least connected members of society leave a digital trail of crumbs.
For young people, even more information is willingly offered up in social media posts, photos, comments, live streams, chats, videos, delivery orders, music preferences, etc. The rise of Artificial Intelligence or A.I. relies heavily on this massive input of data, shaping that information in ways humans can reliably understand—and exploit.
In Lauren Gunderson’s 2023 play “anthropology,” directed by John Perrin Flynn, software designer Merrill (Alexandra Hellquist) grieves the loss of her sister, Angie (Kaylee Kaneshiro), one year after her disappearance. Since the police have come up empty handed, Merrill creates an A.I. avatar of her beloved sister for comfort.
Using the trove of information that Angie left behind, Merrill feeds the A.I. as much data as she can find about her sister. After her creation comes to life, “A.I. Angie” impacts Merrill’s life in a very real way. A few failed starts later, Merrill programs A.I. Angie to be more and more like her real sister. Before long, the A.I. begins to hint that there may be information that the police have missed—and it might know what happened to the real Angie.
Set design by Stephanie Kerley Schwartz is sleek, reminiscent of a theme park attraction. Thanks to lighting by Dan Weingarten, Merrill’s office is aglow with purple backlighting and large screens busy with computer graphics. A.I. Angie appears on those screens, first as text, then as a fully formed avatar.
Although the effect is most likely pre-recorded dialogue performed by Kaneshiro, A.I. Angie’s plastered-on smile gives her a look that is too perfect to be real. Kaneshiro does a fantastic job on screen. And Gunderson’s dialogue for A.I. Angie is also spot on, laden with youthful colloquialisms and foul language that feels forced in the way that A.I. commonly does to feel more “real.”
Anyone who’s been on a video conference call knows it’s a bit awkward to talk to a screen, but Hellquist gives a commendable performance, acting for the most part alone on stage with her virtual scene partner. One can imagine that acting opposite a screen may be more challenging than a living, breathing actor.
It is anxiety inducing at first, but credit to the technical team for creating a seamless audio and visual experience for the actors and audience alike. Sound design by Christopher Moscatiello is well thought-out and excellently executed. Video can easily be busy or distracting in a live production, but while Michelle Hanzelova-Bierbauer and Fritz Davis’s video production surrounds the stage, it never steals attention from the show.
Having begun as an experimental coping mechanism to help Merrill grieve, the A.I. is eventually able to manipulate people in Merrill’s real world. Julia Manis plays Merrill’s ex-girlfriend Raquel, who finds herself back in Merrill’s life after being tricked by A.I. Angie. Manis gives a strong performance in a role that begs for more stage time. Despite the high quality of the audio and video effects, it’s a welcome reprieve to see two actors performing together instead of one alone with a screen.
Later, Merrill and Angie’s mother Brin (Nan McNamara) also gets wrapped up in the drama. To Merrill and Angie, Brin is an ugly reminder of their family history of addiction and loss. Having been forced to care for Angie at a young age, Merrill resents her mother, but A.I. Angie finds a way to bring them together again, for better or worse. McNamara’s role is small but powerful, a devastating portrait of the effects of grief on a mother and an addict’s tendency to replace one addiction for another.
“anthropology” is more than a story about a software designer's search for comfort in the face of grief. It is part of a larger reaction of humanity to A.I. To that end, it is largely successful. Otherwise, the stories are spread a bit thinly throughout the play. The thriller/mystery elements feel like they are in competition with a family drama and a rekindled romance.
Also, as is the case with A.I. in the real world, A.I. Angie does her work inside the computer. While this is true to life, it is far less interesting to see a computer tell you what it knows without knowing how it came to know it; imagine if Miss Marple or Detective Poirot merely solved a mystery and never told you how they did it.
A.I. is an unavoidable subject among self-proclaimed luddites and A.I. evangelists alike. Works like “anthropology” are important to give A.I. context. Gunderson makes it clear that A.I. has the ability to distort reality and cause real harm. At the same time, she demonstrates the ways A.I. can be a useful tool for both practical and emotional purposes.
In these ways, without being didactic, Gunderson uses A.I. as a mirror for humanity to view itself and ask, “What makes us human? Can someone use all those pieces of data we leave behind to create something in our image? If we create something that feels real, does it matter if it isn’t?” You won't leave the theater with answers to these questions, but you may feel better equipped to answer them yourself.
Rogue Machine’s “anthropology” continues through Nov. 16 at the Matrix Theatre, 7657 Melrose Ave., Los Angeles, with shows Fridays, Saturdays and Mondays at 8 p.m. and Sundays at 2 p.m. For tickets and information, call 855-585-5185 or visit RogueMachineTheatre.org. Run time is 90 minutes with no intermission.
Comments