In a purpose-built arena on the Doon St Car Park behind the National Theatre, a headphones-clad audience is welcomed to a kind of nerdy live version of the board game LIFE, only with more rubber ducks and Space Invaders on the walls. The audience on the ground is surrounded by a kitsch cityscape reminiscent of the 1990s computer game Commander Keen: slightly non-menacing but very wacky. Player 611, after struggling with what looks like a broccoli monster which has had an unfortunate encounter with a shaver, only has one life left to fulfil the mission: get the girl, save the princess, hit an overgrown mothball suit wearer personifying your mother – the usual. One life left. Off you go.

There’s a hint of well-placed irony in inviting people to witness a videogame-style play they can’t actually influence themselves. The production struggles to extend its insights to the audience of what exactly there might be beyond the rat race of life. The solution to not giving and not wanting to give an answer is design, design, design, and playing with reiterations. Directors Frauke Requardt and David Rosenberg have assembled a cast of eight experienced movement performers and free runners who jump, slide and dance around the stage area. The set by Jon Bausor has lots of hidden doors, visual gags, and a plexiglas box with a woman who delivers a different service every time the player makes it to the end of a level. Guns, medi packs, a kiss and somewhere in between a point that our relationship to technology might make us lose our sense of urgency about life.

It’s generally a lose/lose situation if you watch a play that has the universal question of the meaning of life at its core. If it’s sometimes a bit shit and you don’t quite understand what’s going on, then you might argue that, actually, the artists have captured the point rather well. For example, it can seem quite disappointing that these free runners are constrained by the walls of the set. It’s all wonderfully choreographed throughout but they don’t do really do the expected risky, breath-taking jumps. They’re not free at all and their movement potential is in contrast with the 2D strip-like set around the audience. After 35 minutes of mulling this over my mind begins to drift and I start to imagine Nietzsche having fisticuffs with Kant about free will while dancers in zentai rabbit suits dance soothingly to the beat. Sorry if you just had a disturbing experience googling “zentai rabbit suit”.

Someday you will die. And you will still have all your stuff and some guy will have punched you and you still think it wasn’t your fault. Obviously all because this show you once saw, The Roof, didn’t make you care enough about not breaking out of the rat race. Or it did, and you’d still rather sit down to play Flappy Bird on your phone. At least you could play it yourself.

Written as part of the Ideastap Critical Writing Workshop for LIFT 2014.

I have a photograph of the first Beatles bass player Stuart Sutcliffe on my wall, which is signed by German photographer Astrid Kirchherr – the woman who gave the Beatles their famous haircuts. I have been known to constantly sing Beatles songs when I think nobody’s watching me. And how anyone can seriously ponder the “Beatles or Stones?” question and not come to the obvious answer remains a source of great confusion to me. If any of that rings a bell, chances are you’re as much of a Beatles geek as I am. You may have gathered that The Beatles are not just any old band to me. When my classmates listened to the Backstreet Boys’ new album, I shook my pretentious little head and tried to decide whether Sgt. Pepper’s or Revolver was my favourite album.

So going to the Prince of Wales theatre to see Let It Be had me exceptionally excited. To my delight there was a little quiz on the two big screens as the audience settled down before the start of the show which had me mumbling various bits of trivia to myself. I was truly ready to be taken on a rock ‘n’ roll ride.

Leaving out their rough Hamburg days, the show starts off with their Royal Variety Performance from 1963 and and leads right through to their last album release Let It Be. The show is basically a theatrical concert, or a succession of re-enactments of famous concerts with the odd quote thrown in for the more knowledgeable fan.

The famous rooftop concert has already been done as part of the show’s marketing campaign, and this show takes the audiences through the decade: from Liverpool’s Merseyside and the intimate Cavern club to the Shea Stadium where in 1965 they played in front of 55,000 people and apparently couldn’t even hear themselves on stage. The visuals try to create the atmosphere of the concert sites and the show wants the audience to give in and feel part of these milestone performances. For example, original recordings of screaming girls are interspliced with live footage of the actual audience.

Although the audience was up on its feet quite early on in the show, swaying, twisting-and-shouting and clapping, I don’t think that the little time-travel experiment quite works. When the performers try to interact with the audience it is somewhat superficial. We see impersonations of the four musicians that never really come to life because a tightly-planned show like this does not seem to leave any room for improvisation.

Later albums like Sgt. Pepper’s get some space too, with the cast dressing up in the famous colourful uniforms and gazing seriously into the audience. There is a nice and quiet acoustic part in it as well, but all the way through the evening I waited for the Beatles music to work its magic and have a more profound emotional impact on me as has happened many times before when just simply listening to the records. Alas, to no avail. Granted, I was entertained and pleased with some of the details and arrangements, but was not as moved as I hoped I was going to be.

The performers have got some of the mannerisms down pat – especially Michael Gagliano who is eerily close to John Lennon’s physicality. And throughout the show the other performers, too, seem to grow more and more into the characters they are portraying. The details are just right: there’s Paul’s violin-shaped Höfner bass and George’s beautiful Rickenbacker. And John even seems a bit too cheeky at times. But it’s not just the look: in “Strawberry Fields”, for example, John’s voice in its colour and pitch is just perfect.

I have however seen tribute bands that were more convincing acoustically (for example the Broadway success RAIN, which this is based off) although none have had such a colourful stage illustration as Let It Be. Darren McCaulley’s and Mathieu St-Arnaud’s video design is beautiful, sometimes plainly illustrating the lyrics, sometimes just joyfully wacky and reminiscent of Terry Gilliam.

Although I left the theatre very elated on the grounds of having heard these stunning songs performed live in front of me, something touching to take home was missing. This is a very well-executed Beatles tribute and if you are willing to dig deep into your pockets and spend up to £90 (for premium seats) to go and see this you will certainly enjoy yourself. For everyone else who is waiting for that elusive West End musical about the Fab Four’s story behind all the fame, this is not it. And I shall return to listening to the Beatles on my mp3 player and sheepishly humming to myself on the Tube. Listening to the vivid arrangements, the stories told by the lyrics come to life in my head all on their own. No tribute band needed.