As a director, I was drawn to how well the script balanced satire with sincerity. Rather than offering a black-and-white moral take, DOOMERS captures the complexity of our moment—the hubris, confusion, and human failure behind the gleaming tech façade.

Tonally, the play swings between farce and realism. Moments of brutal honesty sit alongside absurd humour and corporate jargon gone rogue. My vision is to strip away the mythos surrounding tech CEOs and innovators, exposing their dysfunctional, almost family-like dynamics. They’re no different from the rest of us: flawed, scared, posturing for relevance. In doing so, DOOMERS holds a mirror up to society—not to judge, but to expose and provoke.

I’m not interested in answering the question of where AI will land in all this—whether it will bring order or accelerate collapse. Instead, I want to live in the discomfort of not knowing. This production doesn’t offer certainty. I want to lean into the ambiguity, the speculation—where fear and fascination blur, and where the future remains unresolved.

What I’ve loved most about working on DOOMERS is the way we’ve been able to drop into the world together—not from above, but from within. Rather than directing from the outside, I’ve found the richest moments come when we’re immersed, when we are the doomers. That’s when the unexpected happens. Some of my favourite beats weren’t written as comedy, but became hilarious through us playing around with it. It’s in that instinctual space, where we stop analysing and start embodying, that DOOMERS really takes shape.