If you’ve seen the recent touring production (or the not-so-recent West End production) of Dear Evan Hansen, the usual ‘rules’ about mobile telephone use apply: turn it off before the show even starts. Never mind that the show itself deploys extensive use of social media and mobile telephony in the narrative – the audience must not replicate what they are seeing. And then there’s a cartoon that did the rounds – on social media, of course – a few years ago: if the Titanic were to sink in the digital era, would the passengers who were told to abandon ship whip their smartphones out and film the sinking, as it happened?
Throwing the proverbial rule book out of the proverbial window might not work for every production of every show – there needs to be, after all, some degree of civility. But it was interesting, at least to me, that an invitation to take whatever photos of the set, and the action, that people wanted, resulted in precisely nobody sticking their mobile phone up high and filming the entire thing – which, in theory, could have happened and technically would have been, in the most British fashion, not disallowed. Indeed, not one phone pinged or rang during the whole thing. Whether it was reverse psychology, or a savvy audience, or a mixture, I couldn’t possibly say.
There’s a lot going on in the life of Eleanor Hill’s nameless character, whom I will refer to simply as She. There’s no specific reference to this play being an autobiographical piece of theatre, so I will assume for the sake of argument that it isn’t. Or if it is, there’s more than a few elements of creative licence thrown in to preserve anonymity and to ramp up the dramatic tension, amongst other things. It doesn’t really matter, in terms of enjoying proceedings, as the storyline is credible. How many people is She broadcasting to (if that’s the correct turn of phrase) when She goes live on Instagram? The more She shares about her day-to-day experiences, the more she feels the need to share more and more, to the point where She films herself going on a daily walk.
Letting people from anywhere in the world in on what one is doing from hour to hour during the day is, looking from the outside in, curious at best and downright bizarre at worst. Hill’s choice of vocabulary is sometimes fruity, but disarmingly and refreshingly honest. Perhaps the darker side of social media, where attempts to ‘cancel’ someone occur quite regularly, regardless of whether they have done or said anything unjustifiable, is something to be explored in another play at another time.
When things go awry, as they seem to do with almost alarming regularity, there are glimpses of concern in the comments that pop up on screen, and I dare say it is something of a miracle that the comments weren’t more obtuse.
Delivered at a blistering pace, the show ends rather abruptly, as though this were a story to be continued. The style of humour can be dark and acerbic at times, though this adds to the show’s curiosity. An exploration of family and relationship dynamics was perhaps the most intriguing aspect of this unique and thoughtful play.
Review by Chris Omaweng
Be prepared for DM sliding, TikTok dancing, social stalking and endless oversharing. Overshare uses live streaming and real-time audience messaging to explore the hilarious and heartbreaking realities of mental health and trauma in the age of social media. Together we’ll scroll through reels to find what’s “real”, and maybe stumble across the answer to the ultimate question: do we consume social media or does it consume us?
Creator, Writer, Performer and Producer: Eleanor Hill
Associate Director and Dramaturg: Lizzie Manwaring
Associate Producer: Rachel Thomas
Set Design: Constance Villemot
Set and Props Assistant: Iza Fordham
Video Design: Matt Powell
OVERSHARE
Greenwich Theatre
6 to 25 May 2025
