Review: "User Agreement"? Just Choose Yes.

User Agreement

Written by Ben Holbrook

Directed by Dante Green

Presented by The Makers' Ensemble at The Makers' Space

281 N. 7th St., Brooklyn, NYC

October 22-November 8, 2026

Vann Dukes & Marvelyn Ramirez. Photo by Angel J. Rivas.

One of the corrosive effects of the interpolation of generative AI into so many aspects of our lives is its erosion of trust: the constant doubt, for example, no matter how fleeting, that the words that anyone–even a friend, family member, or partner–writes to us are actually their own. Of course, in an advertising-saturated culture of "influencers" and the curation of the self-as-brand, this development is more an intensification than a novelty–much like the ecological destruction being wrought by this latest frenzy of capitalist accumulation. Ben Holbrook's superb play User Agreement, a 2023 O’Neill Finalist currently making its NYC premiere in an exceptional production at The Makers' Space in Brooklyn, takes several of these interrelated cultural currents and imagines what they will look like a later stage, while, as the best speculative fiction does, keeping its central conceit a wholly plausible outgrowth–in this case, discomfitingly so–of our current moment. At the same time, it grounds its exploration of large-scale subjects such as surveillance capitalism and artificial consciousness in a specific, wonderfully observed human story.

Vann Dukes, Marvelyn Ramirez, & Michael Adrian Burgos. Photo by Angel J. Rivas.

The conversation about their (non-human) past lives that protagonists Sy (Vann Dukes) and Theo (Marvelyn Ramirez) have to open the show, beginning with their foreheads pressed together and breathing in sync, signals that User Agreement will be concerned with what it means to be human–and not–at this point in history. This (life)time around, the two meet at a music festival in New York City (the question here of "Do I know you?" will return in a different, less flirtatious form later in the play) and begin dating. Things progress well for the couple (and Dukes and Ramirez give Sy and Theo's affection and depth of feeling for one another palpable substance throughout)–except for the sticking point of Theo's reluctance to talk about their job, except to say that they don't like how it makes them feel. Sy, in contrast, seems pretty fulfilled working with marine animals, studying animal communication alongside friend and fellow researcher Leif (a very laidback, very funny Michael Adrian Burgos). Leif's research, we eventually learn, is being funded by Nimbus, a corporation that also produces the glowing Alexa-like ball of the same name that sits in Sy's apartment (Jetta Juriansz voices this AI assistant and delivers a hilarious, scene-stealing performance when we at one point encounter Nimbus in a different form). At a certain juncture, a whistleblower report on Nimbus in conjunction with Theo's reticence about her work put both Sy's trust and the couple's relationship to the test.

é boylan. Photo by Angel J. Rivas.

As part of their research, Sy and Leif are able in one scene to communicate with an octopus named–by the humans–Ollie (é boylan), whose extrahuman perspective raises questions of individuality and collectivity, empathy and connection, even as the question of what use this corporately-subsidized tech will be put to hovers in the background. boylan's delightfully droll performance as Ollie is in one scene augmented by a simple but expressive costume design from Dante Zagros Gonzalez, which boylan turns into a sort of bobbing, flowing means of expression. Here and throughout, Hayley Garcia Parnell's lighting design works seamlessly with Dante Green's sound design to shift the atmosphere: naturalistic for Sy, Theo, and Leif's wine-tipsy hangout night, red tones and ominous tones to reflect Sy's growing internal upset, stark brightness pinning down Theo (and the audience) during an interview, and so on. A circular rope of lights on the ceiling of the Yua Watanabe-designed set echoes the spherical Nimbus as well as implying clouds both digital and natural, and the show's music cues are as important to the characters-as-characters as they are practical tools for mood-setting or scene transitions. At the center of it all, Dukes and Ramirez are excellent in moments both big (the moving confessional firestorm when Theo tells Sy everything) and small (Sy's obvious but unstated hurt when Theo semi-rejects a gift out of what seems in the moment like fear of change). Theo, Sy, and the rest of the characters must all, in different ways, confront capitalism's exploitation of the desperation that it itself creates (including by undermining support systems and collectivity), and, as User Agreement prompts us to do the same, it suggests that, the way things are going, even your AI won't enjoy its job.

-John R. Ziegler and Leah Richards