It appears the interviewer has got him on the ropes. “For the record, I did not take part in a pagan ceremony with minor members of the royal family in which we daubed ourselves in paint,” states the beleaguered politician, caught outside Buckingham Palace with his flies undone and forced to defend himself. This is a fabrication, of course — I’m watching the scene play out in an east London dance studio — but it doesn’t feel miles away from something that could be true. And how do we know what’s the truth anyway? That’s the question at the heart of Deepfake, the latest piece from award-winning dance duo Jessica Wright and Morgann Runacre-Temple, known collectively as Jess and Morgs. The pair use modern technology and film techniques to tell contemporary stories, often focusing on the intersection of digital culture and real-world issues. “We’re drawn to where the theme and the form meet,” says Runacre-Temple. “What excites us is seeing the contemporary world reflected back.” Their 2022 piece Coppélia, created for the Scottish Ballet, was a hit that reimagined a 19th-century ballet about a dancing doll as a cautionary tale about AI and unchecked tech ambition. More recently, they made their debut at the prestigious Paris Opera Ballet. Deepfake is set in a green-screen studio, where a cool-headed journalist interrogates a politician. The piece is inspired by real-life TV interviews, from Jeremy Paxman’s 1997 grilling of Michael Howard to the infamous interview with former Prince Andrew on Newsnight. The dancers also draw from today’s politicians, who are often trained to avoid answering tough questions. “Television interviews are already a kind of theater,” says Wright. “It’s fun to put that on stage and ask the audience to engage with the theatricality.” The performance will be filmed live by four cameras, and the audience will see both the real-time action and a second version on screen with edited background footage. This dual perspective allows viewers to see how images are fabricated and how different realities can be constructed. There are also seven dancers in green-screen suits who manipulate the environment, only to disappear in the final edit. “Green screen can look quite lo-fi,” says Runacre-Temple, “with that slightly absurd, playful, silent movie quality.” Compared to today’s AI-generated deepfakes, which look hyper-realistic, green screen technology seems almost primitive. The danger of deepfakes, she says, is not just that people believe falsehoods, but that they start to doubt everything, creating a gap of skepticism and uncertainty. During a rehearsal visit, the only technology present was a couple of laptops. “It’s good to go analogue to actually finish the choreography,” says Wright, counting down the days to the premiere. The dancers — Rebecca Bassett-Graham, known for her work with Wayne McGregor, and Kennedy Junior Muntanga, who has worked with Akram Khan — embody the narrative through movement. Their quick, dynamic choreography visualizes the tension of a high-stakes interview — charm, challenge, accusation, entrapment — all mapped to precise syllables and movements. In scenes with the green screen, the dancers must hit exact marks and eyelines on specific words, or the illusion will collapse. The performance creates its own high-stakes environment, where the dancers’ skill mirrors the virtuosity of political interviews. Jess and Morgs aren’t giving away the ending. “Hopefully it will be surprising and mischievous,” says Runacre-Temple.