A text that looks squarely and without prejudice at the world of addiction and its causes, proposing the experience of collective encounter as a possible salvation. Coming together and listening to one another, as in the theater, as an antidote to pain.

In People, Places, and Things, Duncan Macmillan follows Emma's days in rehab alongside a group of patients with substance abuse issues.

She is an actress and arrives at the Center after apparently hitting rock bottom. In the first stage direction of the play, the author tells us: “We see what she sees,” thus allowing the scenes to be affected by the perception of a woman under the influence, while also telling us that she is also, at least for a while, us.

In the same initial note, he continues: “When the scene changes around her, Emma is aware of what is happening.”

And it is at the end of this sentence that the ideological stance of the work becomes apparent. 

Emma—we—are aware of what is happening. The body always knows what is happening. The problem is that we often find it difficult to listen to it.

Far from proposing a world divided into addicts and non-addicts, or thinking of problematic consumption as something close to fatality, Emma can recognize herself as responsible. Knowing that from her position of privilege she is choosing—as in theater—to do what she does and give her life to it. Even if it is difficult to accept hurting oneself as a choice of one's own body.

It is the recognition of this complexity that allows you to see your desire and understand that if you have to choose, it is better to choose that which brings more joy than sadness. More life than death. That which increases your power to act. In short, choose to act. Say: I am here, this is my life. And take charge.

Because Emma knows that life is as real—or as unreal—as theater. That it's about agreements we accept and, therefore, can change.

But this is not a moralizing didactic drama. If anything, it is an ethical exploration of how we manage pain and pleasure. All the arguments, as if it were a Greek tragedy, are convincingly solid. Also, as in tragedies, there are characters and a chorus, and a constant, irresolvable tension between the Apollonian and the Dionysian. Between the logic of reason and the mysteries of the body.

People, Places, and Things does not seek to pontificate on any issue (the play ends with a “Why” hanging in the air) but rather to portray—with lucidity, humor, and affection—the complexity, absurdity, and wonder of being alive.

Pablo Messiez/July 2025