In Autobiographer, it initially appears that theatre artist Melanie Wilson is not afraid to leave the audience to its own devices. Programmes were not doled out until it was time to exit, and one glance at the explanatory paragraph felt like an ‘Ah ha!’ moment that had missed its mark. Having drawn my own conclusions, I didn’t feel like being told what the show had been about — what I had decided was good enough for me.
 
Four women represent four periods in the life of one woman, and while the staging was full of movement and richly layered sound cues, it felt cold, distant… and appropriately enough, utterly cerebral — until the last set piece. Suddenly, as the women interacted with the audience members to fill in the gaps of their collective memory, the notion of autobiography changed utterly: it’s not just ourselves, or even our past selves that contain our life stories, but those around us as well.
 
What had been a highly stylized piece of performance became an incredibly moving portrait of a mind that had lost its touchstones. Having been given an explanation at the end seemed unnecessary, and one feels that we should have been left to our own conclusions.

Susan Conley