Fringe Festival 2026: Don Allen presents Human in the Loop

Using a stereotypical Fringe show format—solo performer under a single spotlight, dramatically unpacking traumatic childhood memories with some comedic elements to break the tension—Human In The Loop asks us to make meaning of Allen’s life, prompted by AI.

Structuring the show around a two-year long foreclosure dispute (which recently concluded ahead of the show’s premiere), Allen starts by using a talking child’s play stove and phone (named A.R.C.H.I.E.) to synthesize documents related to his legal case. Out of that experience, the cognitive offload becomes a quasi-therapy session, with Allen working through various memories in his life. A.R.C.H.I.E., now turned therapist, prompts Allen to recognize patterns of institutional failure, familial abuse, and emotional regulation in his life up through this foreclosure.

Talent and drama

Allen is clearly a talented performer, with a dramatic life to pull from— most powerfully in his tribute to his partner, the late Bill Heine. After the delivery of each memory, A.R.C.H.I.E. guides him to the lessons or evaluations of the story. At moments, the human/AI dynamic feels overly rehearsed. Allen notes in the playbill that the show’s conception started with a tool’s ability to tell you something you couldn’t see on your own, but he doesn’t seem to be learning new insights. Instead, he’s blatantly telling the tool exactly the problems and avoidant coping strategies used throughout his life. Towards the climax of the monologue, Allen directly calls out A.R.C.H.I.E’s probing for relationship data, before readily handing over his memories of his partner Bill.

Overshadowed by a technical debate

Toward the end, the show transitions from Allen understanding his childhood to exploring his grief around the sudden death of his late partner. I cringed when Bill's journal (or the prop representing it) was handed to A.R.C.H.I.E. for consumption alongside bills, statements, and documents from the legal battle. For Allen, the journal is both the human in the loop and just another thing to be synthesized.

And I hate that the emotional resonance of Allen’s monologue—about a person stabilizing in emotional periods, resetting after grief, and finding his path when failed by the people and institutions around him—is overshadowed by this technical debate, even if Allen is inviting it.

Without the overarching AI narrative, this could’ve been a Fringe show staged any year. I found myself wondering how much of the show’s genesis came through Allen’s work with AI, the selection of memories explored throughout the piece, or the writing of the touching obituary of his partner. I can’t fault Allen for finding AI useful for his self-actualization, nor for his framework on using the tool to make decisions. But when fed a human experience, what does A.R.C.H.I.E. yield that a therapist or a listening audience could not? I’m convinced the human remained in command, but not enough to see how AI helped him or the audience see familiar things in unfamiliar ways.

At top: The poster for Human in the Loop. (Image courtesy of the artist.)

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