The Tinder Game
Tinder. Love. 2016. On the search for love in the present day is a difficult feat. Creeps, fakes, misleading bragging, who knows what you can believe from a few sleazy lines, pictures of puppies and some hipster frames. Tinder seems to be a method of escapism for a busy life, that leaves little time to build relationships. We want quick career progression, fast cars, and snappy love. From an app. Naturally enough the results will be disastrous. The Tinder Game uses actual tinder conversations and interactions to construct this production, which makes this piece all the more scary and overwhelming.
The set is bare, with just three chairs, miscellaneous placed props, a screen, two males and a female. Here lies the game of Russian Love Roulette. We meet Liz, optimistic about love, who is on Tinder to find a boyfriend. Playing Liz with doe-eyed hope, Olivia Onyehara truly gives the audience somebody to root for and a sense of optimism in what she is looking for; until she actually begins to meet the strange specimens that Tinder presents to her. Geoffrey Wolfe portrays the snobbish braggart who crushes Liz’s hopes for the evening, complaining about how long it took to get to the date, waffling on about himself for the night and proceeding to look for an excuse to stay the night. Sick, right? This is real life.
Wolfe continues to transform throughout the production from confused recluse, to weight lifting air-head and then to caring and misunderstood. Each character is convincing and all encompassing. Oynyehara gives a convincing and bemusing performance as her character evolves and morphs into everything she hated before she opened that dreaded app. Jay Oliver Yip completes the trio that intertwine our cast in the Tinder tale, with sordid words, dubious actions and questions of credibility. His fluidity between characters is impressive, although his accents are sometimes a little questionable. Overall, the cast are quick and entertaining in their delivery. The intertwined Tinder game held by Yip and Woolfe throughout the piece win the audience over with quick witted quips and snappy analogies.
You’re angry that your boyfriend didn’t finish the washing up. You send him a text. You tell him you hate him, it’s over. It’s a throw-away remark, meaningless, you know you love him, it’s silly and it means nothing, right? Wrong. Not if you’ll ever have to deal with border control. Border control examines the credibility of Jasmine’s visa application to stay in Britain with her long-term partner Edward, who recently got married. Border Control are given the power to decide if she stays or goes.
Texts, emails, Skype messages, Facebook likes, tags and comments mean everything to this application. We meet three officials in the border control office that are given the power to examine this couples relationship and life over the internet. Pitched around a basic table, covered in papers printed with their conversations, they sift through their cyber relationship.
Woolfe, Oynyehara and Yip are a trio to be reckoned with. Their conversation is snappy and sharp. The strategic and regimented nature of the process is well portrayed, yet underlying human feelings are evident, which portrays the human side that these civil service workers have to deal with in these procedures. The company are tight and clearly passionate about their work.
Love, Sex and Apps runs at the Bread and Roses Theatre from until December 3.