Advances in Artificial Intelligence are proceeding at a bewildering pace. From hand-wringing about the impact of ChatGPT on academic study to fears about the potential of deepfake imagery to ruin lives and undermine our understanding of what is real, the potential consequences of AI often seem terrifying. So this production, adapted from Philip K Dick’s 1956 novella of the same name (and sibling to the 2002 Tom Cruise film) is timely – posing, as it does, questions about what we are willing to sacrifice to technology that offers alluring promises of ease, convenience and safety.

The basic premise of novella, film and play is the same: in the future, technology allows the prediction of violent crimes by super sentient humans known as ‘precogs’, leading to a system whereby individuals can be arrested and imprisoned for acts they have not yet committed. This ‘Precrime’ system is threatened when its CEO is named as a precriminal and is forced to flee, facing the decision to either fight for their innocence or surrender – in other words, to either undermine the system they have pioneered or to submit to it.

David Haig’s script remains true to the origins of the story only in this fundamental premise, with numerous other details of character and plot altered. The main change – and one that also differentiates it from the film – is that the lead character has changed gender and is now not John but Julia Anderton. It’s a decision that both changes the dynamic of the story and offers a rare opportunity for a female actor to take the lead in a sci-fi production.

It’s a chance that Jodie McNee seizes with both hands: never off stage, she delivers in spades as the engine of this fast-paced story. Anderton undergoes a huge psychological journey in the space of the play’s 90 minutes – from arrogant corporate leader to a frantic scramble for sanctuary, and eventually to a devastating revelation in the closing act – and McNee pulls it off admirably. She has a spiky quality – accentuated by the Liverpudlian accent that emerges in moments of high stress from under her carefully RP public persona – that perfectly suits this woman who has worked hard to control the world around her and isn’t about to let go without a fight.

Visually, this is a stunning production. The set fluidly shifts between multiple locations without ever feeling clunky, in particular making use of the high ceiling of the Playhouse stage to create the illusion of city high rises and gleaming corporate interiors. The action sequences as Anderton flees from her pursuers are especially impressive, combining jarring sound design and lighting effects with superb choreography to portray a hostile and crowded urban environment with a cast of just nine people. And cunning set design allows the actors to apparently appear and disappear at will, contributing to the overall sense of furious action that rarely lets up. It’s a thrilling ride, delivered with aplomb by a nimble and athletic cast.

While the production is a technical feast and an impressive achievement of staging, though, this can’t disguise the fact that the actual story it tells is somewhat lacking. The concept of Precrime itself is an effective vehicle for asking some key philosophical questions (around free will and the relationship between liberty and security) but as a plot device it doesn’t stand up to much logical scrutiny. And in the pursuit of a fast-paced, thrilling theatrical experience (the show runs at 90 minutes with no interval), Haig has sacrificed a lot of what complexity there was in the original story: the script makes the eventual villain glaringly obvious from early on, and the ending feels too pat.  

There’s a huge amount to admire here and a huge amount to enjoy – but this also feels like a bit of a missed opportunity to explore some of the ramifications of current technological advancements in a bit more depth. Still, if you want top class live entertainment by a hugely skilled team – and don’t mind suspending logic for the evening – you could do a whole lot worse than this show.

Minority Report runs at Nottingham Playhouse until Saturday 9th March