If you’ve seen the movie “Rogue One” and enjoyed the droll droid K-2SO but felt creeped out by CGI Grand Moff Tarkin and Princess Leia, you may be experiencing what’s known as the “uncanny valley.”
The term comes from a concept identified by Japanese professor Masahiro Mori in 1970. Human beings, it seems, have a fondness for robots and computer-generated figures — up to a point. Mori observed that people’s emotional responses plummet from positive to strongly repulsed when confronted with a robot that appears extremely humanoid. Encountering a not-quite-but-very-nearly human seems to disturb and rattle us deeply, leaving our brains unable to reconcile the familiar with the vaguely strange. This concept is explored in Thomas Gibbons’ “Uncanny Valley,” currently on stage at the Pear Theatre in Mountain View.
The play, with slight echoes of “Frankenstein,” “Pinocchio” and other playing-God tales throughout the ages, chronicles the relationship between a human and her creation. Set a few decades in the future, Claire (Mary Price Moore) is an esteemed neuroscientist specializing in artificial consciousness — a step beyond artificial intelligence. Part of her job entails working with AI beings, training them on how to act, think and feel more human.
At play’s start, Claire is working on her latest project: Julian (Evan Kokkila Schumacher). Although at first he’s only a head and torso (over the course of the first act we see him gain arms and legs), Julian is programmed with a complex array of algorithms that give him a semblance of human consciousness. He’s curious, polite and earnest, and, although Claire strives for strict professionalism, they quickly develop a genuine friendship. Julian is full of questions about himself, Claire and life in general. As he learns about small talk, empathy and, in one memorable scene, dancing, Claire finds herself confiding in him, sharing about her long marriage to a fellow scientist and her troubled relationship with her estranged-but-beloved daughter. The tone for this first act is sweet, almost akin to a romantic comedy.
By the end of that act, we learn that Claire’s work with Julian is not just science for science’s sake. Her company is actually in the business of creating lifelike facsimiles for people wealthy enough to afford them. These folks pay big bucks to have their memories, personalities and mannerisms captured, downloaded and implanted into these high-budget androids, which are engineered to look eerily like them. They even carry human DNA within their polymer bodies. In this way, a new form of immortality (the old form being passing on genes via offspring) is granted.
Julian, it’s revealed, is destined to become the new incarnation of an elderly businessman dying of cancer, who wants to carry on his life and lucrative career in his permanently 34-year-old prime.
In the second half of the play, Claire, who’s until now kept a firewall between her pre- and post-personality-downloaded creations, is visited by the new Julian. It becomes apparent that, despite her longtime faith in the importance of artificial consciousness, seeing this version of Julian in action, with all the implications of a world in which the privileged few can live on forever as cyborgs, shakes her to her core.
The Pear’s production (directed by Caroline Clark) does the fascinating subject matter and well-written script justice, with Schumacher and Moore (the only two cast members) both delivering sympathetic, thoughtful performances. Schumacher must be relishing the challenge of portraying both the more innocent, original Julian and his later version. The striking, mid-century-modern-styled set (“scenic design inspiration” credited to Jesse Dreikosen) makes Claire’s office warm, personalized and attractive, and the incidental, slightly futuristic music does a good job of setting the mood.
Good science fiction, “Uncanny Valley” included, often raises disturbing questions. This story is more subtle than some, lacking in major disasters or clear moral messages. Julian and Claire are well-meaning, not mad scientists or monsters — aren’t they? And what is it, exactly, that makes someone “human”? It isn’t easy to answer that, but the Pear’s production makes it a pleasure to ponder.
What: “Uncanny Valley”
Where: Pear Theatre, 1110 La Avenida St., Mountain View
When: Through Feb. 12; Thursday-Saturday at 8 p.m.; Sunday at 2 p.m.
Cost: $28-$32
Info: Go to Pear Theatre