It’s standard for an actor to be onstage as the audience enters the Corpus Playroom – I cannot remember seeing a play where this has not been the case. For Life with Oscar, however, the sole performer (Nicholas Cohen) was not just onstage, but interacting with the audience. As we entered, he referred to us as nominees and asked us for which category we were nominated. Responses varied from person to person, some catching on more quickly than others, but Cohen managed to stir a reaction from everyone, putting the audience at ease.

Transitioning from this informal introduction into the formal beginning of the play could have been clunky in less capable hands. Here, the transition was effortless, natural in its fluidity, setting a precedent for the rest of the play.

“Few multi-actor plays take such care to provide each character with distinctive syntactical patterns”

The script does not shy away from introducing us to the various characters very quickly. In the first scene, six characters from varying corners of Europe and the US gather to discuss the making of a film about Superman. At first, it might feel like a cop-out to write a selection of characters from different countries, their variety of accents making them easily distinguishable. However, Cohen’s script is meticulous in its assignment of differing speech patterns (especially in the first half of the play) to make characters easily identifiable. It is not only the contrasting accents that differentiate the French actor at the Fringe from the elocuted father at the dinner table, but the syntactical structures and even the former’s distinctive willingness to casually employ a very uncomfortable slur. Few multi-actor plays take such care to provide each character with distinctive syntactical patterns.

Towards the middle, Cohen’s grip on these distinctions begins to loosen somewhat, meaning one has to concentrate much harder on the increasingly similar British and US accents. However, Cohen’s effort is valiant, and any exertion on the audience’s part is ultimately rewarding.

For some, the script’s concept may sound incredibly pretentious: a one-man play about the actor’s life as he grows from nepo-baby to struggling Hollywood filmmaker. I was certainly suspicious of the extent to which I’d have to indulge the vision. However, Cohen grabs this potential for pretentiousness with both hands and seems to shape elements of the play around it. Rather than “nepo-baby”, he prefers the term “repro-baby”, a child born to unsuccessful parents, reprogrammed by them to become what they never were. The implicit privilege is certainly poignant to discuss in this city.

The Corpus Playroom is a fascinating space for any director to handle. On the way in, however, the audience was asked to sit only on the far side. The effect was that we might as well have been watching any end-on stage (or cinema screen). Perhaps this was a result of low ticket sales — Cohen himself commented on the difficulties attracting people on a Thursday night — but it still felt that the space was somewhat wasted.

“We might as well have been watching any end-on stage (or cinema screen)”

Another result of the low ticket sales was a slight awkwardness when the audience was called upon to respond. Although Cohen’s informal introduction relaxed us to an extent, no one was quite confident enough to repeat “El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles” when called upon to do so, and it took a group effort for us to be able to remember the name of Hugh Grant.

Name-dropping was, unavoidably, a dizzyingly frequent constant throughout the play. Yet I felt this was essential. To be able to boast so many connections, the play seems to tell us, is fundamental if you want to get your film produced. But even then, it isn’t always a guarantee of success.

A key question the play explores is the tension between the medium and the matter. How does film differ from theatre — and, therefore, what does it mean to present one through the lens (or, rather, lack of lens) of the other? These are amplified through the thrilling film snippets projected onto the back wall. Though we never quite receive a full answer, it’s interesting to ponder, and a reminder of the main purpose of “arty” theatre: to make us question things. It is less commercial, more consequential.

The play is a poignant vision of the difficulties of working in the creative sector, the demands of economic value over artistic vision. It demonstrates the passion of the creative voices constrained by the politics of Oscar-nomination, and it reminds us of one essential thing: that talent cannot be measured by mainstream success, but personal victory.

‘Life With Oscar’ is showing at Corpus Playroom from Thursday 1 until Saturday 3 May, at 7:30pm.