When fragments of our memories are scattered like particles of an atomic bomb, how do we begin to piece them back together?  Lithium’s Circa Still, Rupture Now challenges us to explore concepts of memory and perception through a disjointed assembly of powerful iconic images of war and conflict; before bringing the conflict to life right in front of our eyes. It’s quiet, it’s loud; it’s warm, it’s hostile; it’s an Irish story, it’s a global story; it’s near and it’s distant.

The dancehalls, showbands and repression of a bygone Ireland are juxtaposed with the displaced hope and paranoia of Cold War America as director Chris McCormack takes us on an express journey through modern history and exposes the extremities between what we remember and what we have been instructed to remember. Performers Paul Donnelly and Karen Connell don’t let our brains slow down for a second as they rush us from scene to scene, repetitively revisiting lines and actions which call into question whether or not we have interpreted them correctly in the first place.

Circa Still, Rupture Now is not easy work. But, from the image of a Buddhist monk calmly burning on a roadside to a rose petal-covered silhouette of innocence, it is impossible to ignore its aesthetic beauty or shake off the feeling that it is an important piece of social commentary, even if it may take an age to fully process.

Star rating: ★★★★