When London’s theatres were forced to close last month, one of the many shows to be cut short was Chickenshed’s spring production, which was forced to end its run the day after press night. This was a disappointment not only for those of us hoping to see the show during its two-and-a-half week run, but also for the cast of 200 young people who had been working hard on the latest in a series of topical performances from the North London theatre company.
It was welcome news, then, that the show would be released to view online, and in some ways even quite fitting for a theatre company whose focus is always on inclusivity and accessibility. While the recording undoubtedly lacks the immediacy of a live performance, it does allow anyone, anywhere, to enjoy the show, with the option to pause or rewind as needed, and subtitles to ensure as many people as possible can follow the production’s spoken dialogue and song lyrics. It’s not the same as being there, but in the absence of any other option it’s the next best thing, and perhaps this opportunity may even bring Chickenshed’s work and message to new audiences who wouldn’t otherwise be in a position to enjoy it.
Moving on, then, to the show itself, which this year takes on on the topical subject of global migration from a variety of perspectives. Combining music, dance and drama, the show charts the experience of migration through six phases, and poignantly evokes the sense of loss and isolation that comes with leaving behind the place you call home and starting a new life elsewhere, as well as the physical risk and trauma faced by so many as they flee persecution and attempt to reach safety.
It doesn’t do this through one central character, but instead tells multiple stories of people from different backgrounds, each of them with a unique perspective. We hear from a young girl who can’t understand why she’s been left behind by her father, a mother desperately seeking her young son, who’s vanished overnight in the middle of the Sahara, and – in a surprising but fascinating twist – the smugglers who justify their actions as merely responding to a demand that’s been created by others. We see heartless officials demanding proof of persecution, and traumatised refugees who survived their journey only to be faced with suspicion and paranoia from those they thought would keep them safe.
All this is performed by a cast of 200, who are on stage throughout – even when not actively involved in a scene, the ensemble acts as a silent witness to the events unfolding at centre stage. Taken as a whole, Lou Stein’s production is a visual spectacle, with lighting from Andrew Caddies that perfectly matches the tone of each phase, as well as vibrant choreography and mature performances from a young cast who demonstrate a real and commendable understanding of the show’s complex subject matter.
While it’s inevitable that the show loses something in recorded format, the themes and stories that it explores still come through loud and clear, and the energy of the performance proves just as infectious in your living room as in a theatre. In addition to everything else, Waiting For The Ship To Sail is also a worthwhile reminder that while our minds and our media may currently be focused on one crisis, that doesn’t mean other, equally urgent, issues have gone away, or become any less deserving of our time and attention.