It’s 6:47 pm.
An actress sits down to make a self-tape.
It might be her last.
An actress sits down to make a self-tape.
It might be her last.
In a city of lost and lonely people, how do we find our way without losing who we are?
A woman,
A camera,
One last chance.
A camera,
One last chance.
A story you won’t forget.
Ahead of the production, we spoke to writer and performer Ailun Zhou to learn more.
What inspired you to create The Last Self Tape, and how did your personal experiences shape the narrative?
The piece was born from years of self-taping --- the repetition, the isolation, and the strange clarity that emerges when you face a lens instead of a person. I realised the self-tape room had become more than a technical space; it had become a psychological one.
The piece was born from years of self-taping --- the repetition, the isolation, and the strange clarity that emerges when you face a lens instead of a person. I realised the self-tape room had become more than a technical space; it had become a psychological one.
I developed the piece alongside our director, Robert Price, whose insight was crucial in shaping its structure and emotional architecture. Certain emotional textures come from my own life, but the story isn’t autobiographical. What shaped the narrative most was a question:
What happens to a person when the camera becomes their only witness?
What happens to a person when the camera becomes their only witness?
Can you elaborate on how you developed Chloe’s character to reflect the struggles many actors face today?
Chloe was shaped out of the contradictions performers navigate in today’s industry. On the surface, she embodies the controlled, polished version the system rewards----the actor who can self-tape endlessly, stay composed, stay efficient. But underneath is the quieter voice the camera doesn’t ask for: fatigue, doubt, humour, memory, and the need to feel human again.
Chloe was shaped out of the contradictions performers navigate in today’s industry. On the surface, she embodies the controlled, polished version the system rewards----the actor who can self-tape endlessly, stay composed, stay efficient. But underneath is the quieter voice the camera doesn’t ask for: fatigue, doubt, humour, memory, and the need to feel human again.
Her world reflects the conditions many actors now work inside:
The silence after a submission, the loneliness of performing into a void, and the strange burden of carrying an entire casting process alone. In an industry that has become faster and more fragmented, Chloe stands inside that tension: appearing free while feeling increasingly confined. She represents the negotiation so many performers live with today: the self they present to survive the system, and the self they can’t quite silence.
The silence after a submission, the loneliness of performing into a void, and the strange burden of carrying an entire casting process alone. In an industry that has become faster and more fragmented, Chloe stands inside that tension: appearing free while feeling increasingly confined. She represents the negotiation so many performers live with today: the self they present to survive the system, and the self they can’t quite silence.
How do you feel the pandemic has changed the landscape of the performing arts, particularly for new artists?
The pandemic accelerated a shift that was already underway. Rooms disappeared, screens took over, and suddenly geography stopped mattering. In that sense, the landscape widened --- more access, fewer borders.
The pandemic accelerated a shift that was already underway. Rooms disappeared, screens took over, and suddenly geography stopped mattering. In that sense, the landscape widened --- more access, fewer borders.
But for new artists, it also became markedly lonelier.
Self-taping removed the human feedback that once sustained early careers.
If you never reach a callback, the silence becomes its own barrier.
So the post-pandemic world is broader, but far quieter.
Self-taping removed the human feedback that once sustained early careers.
If you never reach a callback, the silence becomes its own barrier.
So the post-pandemic world is broader, but far quieter.
For emerging artists, it means one thing: the work itself must break through the noise, because
connection is no longer guaranteed by the environment --- it has to be created.
What was the most challenging part of bringing this story to life, and how did you overcome it?
The greatest challenge was navigating the emotional closeness between myself and Chloe because as performers we both live near the same terrain: solitude, endurance, and long stretches of silence. These are familiar emotional temperatures for actors, and it would have been easy to slip into something too inward or indulgent. The real work was to stay honest without allowing it to drift into self-pity..
The greatest challenge was navigating the emotional closeness between myself and Chloe because as performers we both live near the same terrain: solitude, endurance, and long stretches of silence. These are familiar emotional temperatures for actors, and it would have been easy to slip into something too inward or indulgent. The real work was to stay honest without allowing it to drift into self-pity..
The task was to find a wider frame: to take emotions that are common in our profession and view them through a more universal lens, so they speak to something larger than an individual actor’s experience.
Working with our director, Robert Price, was essential in maintaining that distance. He brought a cooler, more objective perspective and continually shifted the focus back to the work itself --- shaping the material so it reached beyond the individual and into something shared.
Working with our director, Robert Price, was essential in maintaining that distance. He brought a cooler, more objective perspective and continually shifted the focus back to the work itself --- shaping the material so it reached beyond the individual and into something shared.
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| Photo by Yellow Belly |
How do you mentally and physically prepare for a performance?
When I first graduated, I thought preparation meant doing everything --- full warm-ups, breathing exercises, Alexander Technique, stretching as if I were about to run a marathon. I was very committed… and very exhausted.
When I first graduated, I thought preparation meant doing everything --- full warm-ups, breathing exercises, Alexander Technique, stretching as if I were about to run a marathon. I was very committed… and very exhausted.
Now I’ve realised the most important preparation is much simpler: self-care.
Sleeping well. Eating properly. Keeping my mind steady. And occasionally reminding myself to stop fighting myself.
Sometimes the most professional thing you can do is… rest.
So before a show, I try to empty out rather than fill up. I meet myself before I meet the audience --- preferably the rested, kinder version of myself.
In your opinion, what does it mean to forge a connection in today’s disconnected artistic environment?
I think connection today has to break away from form and return to essence.
It’s not about networking, small talk, or collecting contacts at events. Those things can look like connection, but they rarely reach anything true.
I think connection today has to break away from form and return to essence.
It’s not about networking, small talk, or collecting contacts at events. Those things can look like connection, but they rarely reach anything true.
Real connection is the kind that survives time, culture and distance --- the way Shakespeare can still meet us honestly across centuries. We don’t “know” him, but we recognise ourselves in the
work. That kind of encounter is deeper than any in-person interaction.
So even in a lonely, screen-driven era, connection is still possible -- but it comes from the work itself. From an artist refusing to give up, continuing to push, to make, to release something that carries truth.
When the work is honest, someone, somewhere will meet it.
When the work is honest, someone, somewhere will meet it.
That kind of connection doesn’t depend on circumstance; it endures.
How did you approach balancing the themes and topics discussed within the show?
For me, themes never exist separately from the person at the centre. A character’s history, thoughts and will already carry the imprint of every environment they’ve lived through. If the character is vivid and truthful, the themes will emerge naturally through their struggle and their actions --- not through explanation.
For me, themes never exist separately from the person at the centre. A character’s history, thoughts and will already carry the imprint of every environment they’ve lived through. If the character is vivid and truthful, the themes will emerge naturally through their struggle and their actions --- not through explanation.
The key is to place the character in a situation strong enough to activate their whole being. In our piece, Chloe hasn’t left her home in two years; she’s trapped by her own mind. So the self-tape stops being a task and becomes a lifeline. At that level of survival, her choices reveal everything: the loneliness, the collapse, the tension between the individual and the system.
The themes surface because she acts from desperation and truth, not because we force them. They grow out of the character’s fight to stay alive.
What role does London play in shaping the narrative of The Last Self Tape?
First, London is an international, diverse city ---- a place where every kind of life can exist side by side. That openness allows someone like Chloe to disappear into the crowd while still searching for a place to belong.
First, London is an international, diverse city ---- a place where every kind of life can exist side by side. That openness allows someone like Chloe to disappear into the crowd while still searching for a place to belong.
Second, London is one of the world’s financial centres. That means a system driven by capital, speed and opportunity --- a landscape full of ambition, pressure, and constant movement. It fuels possibility, but it also sharpens the sense of precarity.
And third, London carries a deep cultural and artistic tradition. It still makes space for people who pursue art for its own sake, outside purely commercial logic.
Chloe is shaped by all three forces --- someone on the edge of the system, holding real ambition yet carrying a kind of innocence, navigating a city that can both offer everything and swallow you whole.
Of course, cities with similar tensions might hold the piece just as well. If we have the chance to tour in the future, I’d be very interested to see how the story resonates in different urban landscapes.
Of course, cities with similar tensions might hold the piece just as well. If we have the chance to tour in the future, I’d be very interested to see how the story resonates in different urban landscapes.
What advice would you give to aspiring actors struggling to find their niche in this ever-evolving industry?
I think the search for a “niche” can easily become a trap. This industry loves categories and it’s easy to start bending yourself into shapes that look strategic but feel untrue. Sometimes even “finding yourself” becomes another way of performing for someone else’s gaze.
I think the search for a “niche” can easily become a trap. This industry loves categories and it’s easy to start bending yourself into shapes that look strategic but feel untrue. Sometimes even “finding yourself” becomes another way of performing for someone else’s gaze.
If you naturally fit a type, that’s fine. If you don’t, don’t force it. You don’t need to manufacture uniqueness or punish yourself trying to match an external idea of who you should be.
The real work is returning to a more natural, unguarded state --- the place Mary Oliver describes when she writes, “You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting… You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” That instinctive place is where an actor’s creativity opens, because it isn’t defined by a category, only by truth.
Of course, the industry has practical pressures, and survival matters. But keeping a clear line between what the system demands and what your inner life recognises as honest is what allows you to endure ----and to grow on your own terms.
What was the first piece of theatre you remember having a big impact on you?
Almost ten years ago, I saw a dance-theatre work based on the ancient Chinese story Wang Zhaojun Going Beyond the Frontier --- the tale of a woman who leaves her homeland and marries into a foreign tribe to bring peace between two nations. It’s a story about sacrifice, dignity, and the quiet strength of choosing a path that reshapes history.
Almost ten years ago, I saw a dance-theatre work based on the ancient Chinese story Wang Zhaojun Going Beyond the Frontier --- the tale of a woman who leaves her homeland and marries into a foreign tribe to bring peace between two nations. It’s a story about sacrifice, dignity, and the quiet strength of choosing a path that reshapes history.
I remember the performer, Tang Shiyi, with extraordinary clarity. Onstage, she carried a kind of devotion that was almost elemental. You could feel a life-force in her work --- concentrated, fearless, utterly present. It was the kind of performance that makes an entire theatre fall silent, because you suddenly sense a world far wider than mundane life, something sharper, more sacred, more alive.
That performance became a turning point for me.
That performance became a turning point for me.
It showed me what performance could hold, and what it could open in a person. And in the years since --- especially in the difficult moments --- I’ve returned to her work again, reminding myself of what first called me into this art.
What do you hope viewers take away from the show regarding the nature of auditions and authenticity in performance?
For me, the audition is only the surface. It’s a form --- almost a metaphor.
For me, the audition is only the surface. It’s a form --- almost a metaphor.
Chloe’s struggle isn’t just about actors; it reflects something many people carry today: the desire to find a place, a chance, a job, a moment of being seen.
But those things can’t be the foundation of a person. They’re tools, not truths. They’re like sand --- the tighter you hold them, the faster they slip away. If your sense of worth depends on external approval, the ground will never feel steady.
At some point, you have to turn back to the centre of yourself --- to build on something solid rather than shifting ground. Only from there can you even begin to ask what “authenticity” in performance looks like.
And the truth is, it’s difficult. I’m still learning.
If the show offers anything, I hope it’s this: that authenticity is not something you perform for the world, but something you return to -- and then carry with you, quietly, into the work.
The Last Self Tape runs at The Cockpit Theatre on Friday 28th November 2025. Tickets are available from https://www.thecockpit.org.uk/show/the_last_self_tape
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