Casper Dillen's IN CASE OF FIRE TAKE THE STAIRS

Ophey T.K. Chan
1 day ago
2 min read

Performance Review

Casper Dillen / Small Sample Size Theatre: IN CASE OF FIRE TAKE THESTAIRS

3rd July 2026

Chisenhale Dance Space

What makes something exist is not what it is, but whether it is seen and recognised.

Entering the space, I am immediately drawn to the strange collection of objects scattered across the stage. An eight-shaped train track loops continuously with a fish travelling around it. Another fish floats above our heads. Tucked behind a tall transparent plastic column is what first appears to be another piece of scenography. Only much later do I realise someone has been inside all along, quietly inhaling and exhaling, expanding and collapsing the plastic like a giant breathing lung. It is such a subtle image that I almost miss it.

The performance begins like a lecture. A speaker introduces Hegel's master–slave dialectic. I try to follow what he is saying, but the performance constantly pulls my attention elsewhere. Performers rush across the space, strange actions unfold in every corner, objects keep moving, and eventually I stop listening altogether. I begin to wonder whether this is exactly the point. Rather than simply talking about power, the performance starts choreographing my attention.

Gradually, something shifts. At first, the speaker seems to hold authority because he is the only one speaking. Yet as the performance unfolds, his presence slowly fades. Ironically, he never stops talking, but I stop recognising him as the centre of the performance. Instead, my attention belongs to the performers—their endless labour, their repetitive actions, their seemingly absurd tasks. Without noticing, the relationship between master and slave quietly reverses itself.

One image stays with me. The performers gather at the back wall, repeatedly jumping upwards as if they are trapped underwater, desperately trying to reach the surface for air. Suddenly, I realise that we are underwater too. We are all sharing the same submerged world. At that moment, I remember the hidden performer inside the transparent column, who has been breathing in and out throughout the entire performance. The image quietly connects itself. Breath becomes more than breathing; it becomes a condition for existence.

What fascinates me most is not whether Hegel's theory is explained correctly, but how the performance makes me experience it physically. It leaves me wondering: if nobody notices you, if nobody recognises your presence, do you still exist? Perhaps attention is not simply distraction. Perhaps recognition is the oxygen that allows existence to surface.

Reading the programme note afterwards, I realise that perhaps this is exactly what the work is inviting. Rather than asking me to understand Hegel, it asks me to witness people fully committing themselves to seemingly silly tasks. Somehow, that commitment becomes strangely moving.

Credits