“When this is over…things will have changed forever,”  Ian McKellen told me near the start of “An Ark,” staring directly at me.

I didn’t roll my eyes. At first that was only because my eyes were locked into special glasses that enabled me to view a three-dimensional projection of Sir Ian, sitting next to three other cast members, none of whom were actually, physically present at The Shed for what’s being billed as “the first play created for mixed reality.”

I avidly attend experiments in storytelling, whatever they’re called (immersive, interactive, digital, VR, AR, MR, “living stories”), so I’m aware that such storytellers tend to be adventurous and inventive — and also, often, greatly impressed with their own accomplishments. With hype being an occupational hazard, I initially figured that’s what was going on with an exchange of dialogue among the four actors.

“You’ll want to tell people about the things that have happened to you in here,” Golda Rosheuvel said  after Sir Ian’s proclamation about being changed forever, sitting next to him and also staring intently into my eyes as she spoke.

“And the things that happened to you,” Sir Ian added.
“All the things that have ever happened to you,” Arinzé Kene said
“They matter,” Rosheuvel said, as if finishing his sentence.
“Do they?” Rosie Sheehy asked.
“They do,” Rosheuvel doubled down.
And suddenly I realized they were talking about….life.

In 47 minutes, “An Ark” spans the arc (ark?) of human life, from birth to death, with a lyrical script by acclaimed British playwright Simon Stephens (Tony-winner for “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” and recent Off-Broadway adaptor of  “Vanya.” ) Neither Simons’ lyricism nor producer Todd Eckert’s pioneering mixed reality will work for everybody. The experiment might not wholly satisfy anybody, but it’s too intriguing and artful for me to dismiss.

The experience is meant to be intimate yet communal. Both are arguably reasons why the 100 plus members of the audience are asked to take off our shoes. (Where else are we shoeless but in intimate environments?) The technology, however, is not there yet in achieving a credible sense of intimacy. Yes, McKellen et al do look like they are sitting right in front of you, and looking straight at you as they talk to you. But the interaction felt too artificial. If somebody is staring at you close up, you are likely to react to them in some way, and your reaction will prompt a response in kind – even if just the subtlest nod or an almost imperceptible look in the eyes that registers an acknowledgement. I had no such exchange with the actors in “An Ark,” of course, although they did with one another.  (“Marjorie Prime,” which is currently being presented with live actors on Broadway pretending to be holograms, might well have been a good play for a Mixed Reality treatment.)

It’s not just the technology that can keep us at a distance despite efforts to do just the opposite. Many of the sentences are phrased in the second person – addressing “you” – but it was rarely clear to me whether the “you” meant me, or each of the actors talking about themselves, or general (generic?) humanity. The actors occasionally relate specific stories (“You score twice in the regional youth cup final when you’re seventeen. Somebody says a scout has come to watch you,” Kene begins one of the most concrete.) But most of the time they take turns speaking, and what they are saying is much less straightforward. Here is an excerpt (using the “names” that are in the script) of what’s apparently a marriage proposal:

B: You kneel before her
A: She says
B: Yes
D: He’s crying
B: You don’t tell her not to cry. Why do people tell each other not to cry. If we have anything of any value, it’s the way we can cry.

Why is “he” crying, but you don’t tell “her” not to? Are there two  similar stories happening simultaneously? 

On the other hand, the passage made me stop and think: Is that observation about crying valid? 

Much of the strength of “An Ark” is in small moments that mark the stages of life, Stephens’ precisely observed if often out-of-the-blue sentences delivered persuasively by a quartet of actors who aren’t even there:

Birth (“There is part of you that still remembers the shock”/ “The first blast of air in an open lung.”)

Early childhood (“The bubble of blood on your knee as you fall on hard concrete”)

Adolescence (“Your body doesn’t look like other boys.”/”Your body doesn’t look like other girls.”)

Early adulthood (“You travel abroad for the first time without your parents.”)

 Middle age (“You and your wife agree to spend less time looking at your phone and more time reading books.”)

Old age (“You’re on a first-name basis with your pharmacist”)

And beyond.

“We lose everything. At the last moment everything you ever had you will lose. But despite knowing this, knowing all this, you still have somehow largely managed to live with kindness and curiosity and somehow managed to live with love.”

An Ark
The Shed through March 1
Running time: 47 minutes
Tickets: $45
Starring Ian McKellen, Golda Rosheuvel, Arinzé Kene, and Rosie Sheehy
Written by Simon Stephens
Directed by Sarah Frankcom
Conceived and Produced by Todd Eckert