Apollo 13: Mission Control

BY CHARLES ANDERSON

Last updated 10:49 03/03/2010

IN CONTROL: Apollo 13 offers audience members the chance to guide the crew to safety.

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If you had the opportunity to take the reins of a flight crew that sends three astronauts into space, then has to deal with the terrifying reality that they might not make it home, would you do it?

Would you remove yourself from the suffocating gravity pull of not wanting to stand out from the crowd, put on that headset and quietly and calmly talk to astronaut and flight commander Jim Lovell, and explain how to patch together the air filtration system so they will not run out of oxygen and die a slow and lonely death 200,000 moon miles from home?

It is these questions that are asked during Apollo 13: Mission Control. In 1970, the audience is responsible.

I have a new hero, and his name is Darcy – an unassuming sort of fellow who has a curious penchant for wearing pseudo-military overalls and utility belts that hold, among other things, his cellphone. The only mistake Darcy made last Saturday was sitting in the front row at Downstage Theatre. But when he left the performance of Apollo 13: Mission Control, he did so as a quiet sort of hero, one who went about his business without drama or pretence – the anti-theatrical equivalent of Willy Apiata.

The crew behind the show prides itself on that kind of interaction – giving the audience the opportunity to experiment with human instinct. Would you save someone if you had the chance? Darcy did. But it took about a minute of pleading from outer space to anyone in the theatre to do the right thing.

If he had not done it, if no-one had answered the call, then the drama would have ceased. There is no conflict resolution in watching astronauts suffocate.

The point of the show is letting the audience have an intricate part in pushing forward that drama. There are 100 consoles for audience members, complete with buttons, switches and flashing lights. The audience is forced to do simple arithmetic to solve some of the control capsule's more elaborate problems. How much power do we have? Can we get them home? Unsurprisingly, the result is pretty hilarious.

Interviewing a 10-year-old about the intricacies of space travel will inevitably produce a few pearlers. One lucky youngster even got the chance to go inside the rocket – to be the third astronaut.

"What's it like to be in zero gravity, Sol?" asked a very capable Walter Cronkite of 10-year-old Sol.

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"It's kind of like jumping really fast but you are going really slow," Sol answered.

The effect is wonderfully novel. It is fun, exciting and, most of all, different – something to be expected at an arts festival.

In other circumstances, the show could be some rudimentary psychological experiment in how humans react in times of faux hypertension.

Some laugh it off. Others take it deadly seriously, and some go about their business and exude the sort of quality that makes you think: "If ever I am in space and am having serious issues with my air filter, I want Darcy in Mission Control."