THE RENDITION MEETS ALISON HALSTEAD
Image Credit - Helen Murray
"Imagine yourself as a file on a computer..."
It’s the year 2075, and Bridget awakens in a body that is not her own. Fifty years have passed since her death, yet thanks to groundbreaking advancements in technology, her mind and consciousness have been resurrected. But her new existence is far from simple.
More Life, written by Lauren Mooney and James Yeatman, delves into the profound questions of identity, autonomy, and the intersection of humanity and technology, offering a thought-provoking exploration of what it truly means to be alive.
Alison Halstead takes on the role of Bridget, the woman forced to navigate a future that defies the boundaries of life and death. In our conversation, we explore the play’s themes, the ethical dilemmas of technological resurrection, and the lasting impact this gripping story leaves on its audience.
“Even the slither of humanity that we are afforded is better than no slither at all, and it’s worth staying here for.”
QUESTION: If you suddenly woke up in the year 2075 like Bridget, what’s the first thing you’d Google?
Alison: I was thinking about this.
Being a dual citizen of the U.S. and the U.K., with my immediate family in the States, I think I’d search for something like: Is the press still free? Who is the current president? What political party is in Congress?
That would give me an immediate sense of where democracy stands, not just in the U.S. but globally—because, let’s be honest, the ripple effect is massive.
QUESTION: What’s one line or moment in the play that always gives you chills—or makes you laugh no matter how many times you perform it?
Alison: There’s this moment that breaks my heart every single time. Bridget—my character—gets turned off and on repeatedly by Victor, the scientist who created her. He keeps rebooting her until she reaches a version of herself that he finds acceptable.
At one point, Mike, Victor’s assistant, tells Bridget: “Trust me. Give me the device, and I won’t let Victor turn you off again.” And I hesitate, asking: “You promise?” He reassures me, “I promise.” And Victor is on one side of the stage and Mike is in the middle - his arms out stretched, his face is so open and I’m so trusting and believing. Then, the moment I hand it over, Mike turns to Victor and asks, “Shall I turn her off?” And Victor simply replies, “Yes.”
QUESTION: More Life delves into themes of technology, mortality, and what it means to be human. How did these themes influence your portrayal of Bridget and what does being human mean to you?
Alison: We had suggested readings, and there was this podcast that really stuck with me. The host, a scientist, said something like: “If the tech world is interested in something, the rest of us need to pay attention.” And that hit me—because these things aren’t just abstract theories; they’re happening now.
As an actor, though, my approach wasn’t about the tech. Bridget still has humanity, and that’s what I had to tap into. I thought a lot about her physicality—how does someone exist in a body that isn’t quite human? I played with movement, adjusting how I gesticulate, catching myself when it felt “too human,” and dialing it back.
But mostly, I just listened—really listened. It’s a devised piece, so we had discussions, rewrites, and rehearsals where new insights emerged. Sometimes, my questions didn’t come immediately; they surfaced the next day, or in the playing of a scene.
Being human, to me, is about the you-ness of you, the me-ness of me, our imperfections, and our ability to learn and grow—if we choose to. And this play forces us to confront aging, dying, and the idea that some people genuinely believe death doesn’t have to happen.
QUESTION: How did you navigate the ethical complexities of portraying a character who is brought back to life through technology, and what insights did you gain about the essence of human identity in the process?
Alison: You know, the ethics wasn’t my job. My job was to fully embody Bridget as a feeling, thinking person.
There’s a moment in the play where Bridget is absolutely aghast at what’s happened to her. But the real question isn’t about right or wrong—it’s about life. If I am conscious inside a body that doesn’t need sleep or food, am I still human? And if I am, then what’s the point of staying here?
Bridget is going to be around for decades while the people she loves die. So for her, the question isn’t about ethics—it’s about connection, love, and what makes life worth continuing.
Image Credit - Helen Murray
“At the end of the day, invest in humanity. ”
QUESTION: After working on this production, has your own perspective on technology, life, or even mortality shifted in any way?
Alison: I don’t know if it’s shifted, but it’s made me more aware. Technology is already deeply embedded in our lives, often in ways we don’t even think about. The reality is, a few people—usually the wealthy—are making decisions that affect the many. That’s not new, but in the realm of life extension and technological advancements, it’s particularly unsettling.
QUESTION: Had you thought about like or considered or even known about the fact that people were looking into preserving, the preservation of like life, like people were,
Alison: I’d vaguely heard of transhumanism, but I had no idea how far along some of this research actually is. For example, we learned about a massive research complex at Oxford working on Alzheimer’s. The kicker? Their findings are proprietary. They don’t have to share discoveries with the wider medical world.
Would I have listened to that podcast if I wasn’t in this play? Absolutely not - my life is here to live fully. My world just didn’t intersect with that kind of thinking. But now, I find myself wondering: If you have enough money, of course you’re going to hoard knowledge. Why wouldn’t you?
QUESTION: In closing, how would you describe the central message of the play, and what lasting impression or thought-provoking insight do you hope the audience carries with them after experiencing it?
Alison: Even the slither of humanity that we are afforded is better than no slither at all and it’s worth staying here for. That’s the heart of it.
At the end of the day, invest in humanity. That’s where it’s at, baby.
There are characters in the play who’ve altered themselves for longevity—some obsessed with youth, others desperate to remember who they used to be. But there’s no going back.
For however long we have, whoever is in front of us—that’s what matters. And as hard as aging can be, as much as we might fight against it, the real question is: How can I be of service while I’m here? To myself, to those around me? Because that’s what makes life worth living.
At its core, More Life is a profound meditation on what it means to be human, even in the face of technological transformation. The play challenges audiences to confront the ethics of longevity, the fragility of identity, and the irreplaceable value of human connection. As we navigate an increasingly tech-driven world, More Life reminds us that, no matter the advancements, our greatest investment should always be in humanity itself.
