The Physicist and the Beekeeper: A Constellations Review

Last Tuesday, I had the pleasure of seeing a St Andrews rendition of Nick Payne’s hit-play, Constellations. Performed in a Barron rigged with fairy-light stars, the audience took their seats under the nightsky. The show tells the story of Marianne (Tatiana Kneale), a physicist, and Roland (Aubrey McCanse), a beekeeper. We see these characters fall in and out of love again and again. We are led to consider the profundity of our existence, the endless possibilities that co-exist in any human experience. 

Each scene of the play is repeated several times, with minute differences leading to vastly different outcomes. There is a reality where Marianne and Roland did not fall in love, but the excellent chemistry between the actors had us sure this was an impossibility, a mere quirk of the space-time continuum. 

I am not a scientist, as Year Eight physics proved too much for me to handle—but for the night I felt as if I truly understood string theory and quantum mechanics. Kneale’s Marianne, a frazzled English physicist, brought many members of the audience to tears as she weaved through these alternate realities, bringing detail and flair to each repeated scene. McCance’s Roland boasted a similar versatility. He brought something new to each scene, from adoration to drunkenness, each state he portrayed led to a deeper understanding of the character.

While a double showing of a play with a double cast was an ambitious move from the productions’ director, Aidan Monks, the gamble paid off. Speaking with him after the play, he discussed the rehearsal process; the two different versions were allowed to “spring organically” from one another, allowing for enough variation to keep each scene fresh and evocative. 

Callum Wardman-Browne played a male iteration of Kneale’s Marianne, creatively named Martin. It is rare to see a convincing performance of terminal illness, especially one of an aggressive brain tumour — the decline of the body is a difficult thing to recreate, and yet Wardman-Browne’s gradual loss of speech was expertly done. Dylan Swain’s Roland embodied a distinctly British awkwardness with which we are all well-acquainted. Seeing him stumble clumsily through these romantically charged interactions brought a needed touch of humour to a profoundly sad story. 

At times, the music chosen did feel out of place, and I was more convinced by Kneale and McCance’s performances than those of Wardman-Browne and Swain. There is much good to be said, or not, about the power of the unspoken, but in their case, extended and yearning looks of love often verged on the awkward.

“We’re just particles,” Marianne and Martin tell us. Particles to whom free will is an illusion, and choosing love a mere chemical reaction. Science, of course, is a huge part of the play’s narrative — and science is famously ambivalent. Physics should not allow for spiritual connection, and yet, quantum mechanics are essential to this love-story. I certainly came away from the play with a new appreciation for stem students — who knew ramblings about string theory and wormholes could be so romantic?

Constellations was by far the most emotional and professional production I have seen in St Andrews. I became so attached to the characters in the short time I was in my seat. The love-story, so often told, is so difficult to portray in a convincing way. I left the theatre with damp eyes and an urge to research quantum mechanics. It's safe to say, the cast delivered. Constellations, after all, are made up of stars.