Reviews – Page 119 – Theatre Things

Review: Data at New Wimbledon Studio

Published on May 12, 2016January 6, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Direct marketing is an industry we all know exists, and which we probably all realise is not a Good Thing – and yet it continues to thrive. Andrew Maddock’s new play Data, part of the Illuminate Festival at New Wimbledon Studio, aims to expose a little about how the system works, and maybe make us think twice about the many ways we willingly offer up our personal details every day.

We all know the direct marketing industry is a bit shady, but it’s also easy to dismiss as a minor irritation that doesn’t really hurt anyone. And, let’s face it, it’s not the most glamorous subject in the world. So, like all the most successful marketing campaigns, Data appeals to our emotional side in order to get the message across.

Directed by Phil Croft, three characters reveal different aspects of the industry – each beginning within their own carefully defined space before spilling out as their stories begin to interconnect. At the business end, where data is bought and sold, are professionals like Gaz and Rachel, whose job is first to get us to part with our data, and then to use it against us. The play, presented in a poetic style, manages to explain this in relatively simple terms and in a way that keeps the subject interesting, whilst simultaneously acknowledging that it’s a hugely complex system with a multitude of loopholes.

At the other end of the story are those most at risk from Gaz and Rachel’s underhand tactics – like Bev, a lonely, confused old lady who doesn’t even remember what happened yesterday, let alone understand what TPS stands for.

Not entirely surprisingly, this is very much a story of good versus evil – and just to make sure we’re in no doubt, there’s a parallel drawn more than once between dealing in data and dealing in drugs. (“I just want leads… I think them about them all the time,” is a repeated refrain.) Gaz (Sam Ducane) is an utterly despicable character, motivated solely by money and ambition, who clearly sold his soul to the devil a long time ago, while Bev (Jean Apps) is a victim in every possible way: she’s a widow, her granddaughter wants little to do with her, her son’s moved to Australia in unpleasant circumstances; even her dog’s dead. If this were a Comic Relief video, Jean Apps’ performance would have us all reaching for our phones.

Between these two extremes – and saving the play from becoming too clean-cut – lies Rachel (Helena Doughty), with an intriguing storyline, and, it seems, at least traces of a conscience. Even as she plans her marketing campaigns for maximum emotional impact on strangers, she’s concerned for her nan’s wellbeing at the hands of other marketers, and fails to see that she herself has been manipulated by Gaz into handing over information of a different but no less powerful kind. As the one character who we don’t totally love or loathe, it would be great to see Rachel’s story developed further, particularly the relationship between what happened in her past and her attitude towards her work. Which is not to say Gaz and Bev’s stories aren’t interesting; it’s just that Rachel feels like the seesaw that could tip the balance, for better or worse.

Data certainly succeeds in provoking an emotional response, although it perhaps lacks a clearly defined call to action. The play makes us think about where our own data goes, and explains how we can protect ourselves through services like TPS (though even these, we’re told, are possible to get around). But there’s a wider problem here, which the play does a great job of educating us about – and then leaves us wondering, what can be done?

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: The Local Stigmatic at the Old Red Lion Theatre

Published on May 7, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

This year sees the 50th anniversary of Heathcote Williams’ The Local Stigmatic, which follows two sociopaths obsessed with celebrity culture. First performed in Edinburgh in 1966, the play was later made into a film starring Al Pacino. Michael Toumey’s new production remains faithful to the 1960s setting in which the play was written, and yet the story still feels chillingly relevant in our modern world of social media and reality TV.

Graham (Wilson James) and Ray (William Frazer) are two friends who spend their time gambling, getting thrown out of pubs and reading newspaper gossip columns. When they bump into David (Tom Sawyer), a slightly famous actor, the two befriend him – but their twisted game takes a sudden, shocking turn, revealing their deep resentment of the celebrities they follow so religiously, and the depths to which they’re willing to go to prove their own superiority.

Wilson James and William Frazer give two unforgettable performances as Graham and Ray, subtly highlighting the differences in their personalities. Graham is the undoubted leader; his wide-eyed, unblinking stare (which he occasionally fixes on terrified audience members) gives the impression of a man on the brink of madness, and yet we soon discover beneath it all he’s always in control, choosing and pronouncing his words carefully to manipulate those around him.

Ray, on the other hand, is arguably the scarier of the two – though physically much more relaxed, and even occasionally quite funny, he too carries a pent-up rage that occasionally explodes in violence, and his blank-faced subservience to Graham, particularly in the closing minutes of the play, is truly chilling. Tom Sawyer’s David never stands a chance against this pair as, clearly flattered by their attention, he’s led neatly into the trap.

The dialogue is fast-moving and laden with meaning; it’s the sort of script that needs to be heard more than once to catch all the references (it also helps, I think, if you have a little knowledge of dog racing). What is clear is the way phrases are repeated throughout but with shifting significance, as the piece builds towards its shocking conclusion. And it is truly shocking, though not in the way I expected. When you’re braced for blood and gore, the violence initially seems a bit tame… but its power lies in the ability to send our imaginations into overdrive to fill in the gaps.

A simple set allows the actors to move easily between home, where celebrity posters adorn the walls, and the outside world, whilst keeping the two distinct. Tom Kitney’s lighting helps create an increasingly tense atmosphere, and sound designer Neil McKeown uses 60s hits to great effect both between and during scenes, to ensure some of the most powerful moments are those where no words are spoken.

The Local Stigmatic is an extreme example, but we only have to look at the increasingly common occurrences of internet trolling, or read the comments on any article in the Daily Mail sidebar, to realise the resentment felt by Graham and Ray towards the rich and famous is still shared by many. And now that we live in a world where we don’t even need to be stalkers to know all about the lives of celebrities we follow – a word used with startling prescience in Williams’ script, written long before Facebook or Twitter had even been dreamed of – this 50-year-old play feels more relevant than ever.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Blind Man’s Song at the Pleasance

Published on May 5, 2016January 6, 2018 by Liz1 Comment

I’ll be honest – I had mixed feelings going in to Theatre Re’s Blind Man’s Song last night. On the one hand, I was looking forward to something a bit different. On the other, as a general rule I like my theatre with words – the more the better.

There are no words in Blind Man’s Song. But as it turns out, none are needed. The show uses a combination of mime, dance, sound, illusion and original music to tell a moving and surprisingly powerful tale of love and loss, which is accessible enough to follow what’s going on but still leaves room for each individual to interpret it in their own way. The main character, a blind musician (Alex Judd), leads us on a journey into the dream-like world of his own memory (or is it imagination…?), in which a chance encounter between two strangers is just the start of the story.

Two mannequin-like figures (Guillaume Pigé and Selma Roth), their faces covered, bring this world to life while the musician plays. In the absence of facial expressions, it’s the music and movement that convey the emotion of the piece – and in doing so reveal how much it’s possible to share without words. The combination is so evocative that we can feel the joy, passion, rage and grief of all three characters, as the music skips, swells and storms around them.

Said music is all original composition for violin and piano by Alex Judd, making effective use of the loop pedal to create layers and waves of sound. A simple theme, picked out with one finger on the piano, is repeated throughout the show, finally taking its place at the heart of the blind man’s song for the spine-tingling finale. Meanwhile, in harsh contrast, discordant sound effects – a rattle of metal against metal, a loud feedback tone – interrupt to break the spell and go on just long enough to make us uncomfortable, in a reflection of the musician’s own internal struggle.

The show was conceived and directed by Guillaume Pigé, one of the faceless figures who cover the stage with a fluid grace, at times in slow motion and at others with surprising speed. There’s creative use of the sparsely furnished set; I particularly enjoyed the conversion of the bed into a train. Like the performers, the bed and the piano are rarely still for long, giving the piece a feeling of perpetual motion and urgency.

Blind Man’s Song is proof, for me at least, that sometimes it’s good to step out of your comfort zone; I left the Pleasance feeling genuinely moved by the beauty of the story, music and performance. Who needs words?

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Might Never Happen at King’s Head Theatre

Published on May 3, 2016January 6, 2018 by Liz2 Comments

We’ve all been there – you’re walking along, thinking your thoughts, and someone calls out, “Cheer up love, it might never happen!” A bit annoying, maybe, but basically harmless, right? But what if you’re on your way to work and you get wolf whistled, is that still okay? Or a guy sits next to you on the tube and won’t stop trying to chat you up even though you’re clearly uncomfortable? Or a stranger attacks you on the way home one night…?

Where do we draw the line between what’s harmless, and what isn’t? This is one of the questions posed by Might Never Happen from Doll’s Eye Theatre, a thoughtful and commendably balanced exploration of the vast spectrum of acts that constitute street harassment. Written by members of the company, in collaboration with researchers Dr. Fiona Vera-Gray and Dr. Maria Garner, the show takes us through a series of individual scenes, performed by six actors. Some of them are funny, others horrifying, and still others unnervingly reminiscent of our own experiences – but all are designed to make us consider not only the actions themselves, but also the attitudes behind them.

Although the main focus of the show is the risks faced by women, director Amy Ewbank maintains balance in both cast and content. So two male actors (Ashley Sean Cook and Paul Matania) join members of the all-female company (Catherine Deevy, Danielle Nott, Kirsty Osmon and Vicki Welles) to ensure we get to hear a man’s perspective, as perpetrator, observer and victim of street harassment. More than one scene presents us with the alternative view – from both men and women – that receiving a compliment from a stranger is something to be welcomed rather than condemned, while others challenge the culture of victim blaming, and the belief that street harassment is an inevitability we just have to learn to live with.

The result is a show that educates without preaching, throwing out a variety of different arguments for its audience to consider. It also lightens a heavy subject with some very funny moments, to make the point that harassment isn’t always scary (and therein lies one of the problems with defining and punishing it); sometimes it’s just a bit ridiculous, something to be laughed over and dismissed.

The cast handle these shifts from dark to light and back again with ease, keeping each character distinct from the one before, so we have no trouble separating the woman who’s shocked by her boyfriend’s casual attitude towards complimenting strangers, for instance, from the one who herself feels that’s perfectly okay.

Though it’s minutely researched and carefully structured to cover many different facets of street harassment, Might Never Happen stops short of telling us what to think, or even suggesting solutions. Instead it sets out to provide us with the material we need to go away and start our own conversations about this huge and complex topic. And it reminds us that we all – male or female – have a voice in the discussion.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Blue on Blue at Tristan Bates Theatre

Published on May 1, 2016July 22, 2018 by LizLeave a comment

Dysfunctional family relationships get a fresh angle in Chips Hardy’s Blue on Blue, which ventures into areas other writers may fear to tread. A dark comedy about a wounded ex-soldier and his mentally fragile nephew, Blue on Blue is an intense and fast-paced examination of human relationships and the damage that can sometimes be inflicted by the very best of intentions.

Former soldier Moss (Darren Swift) lost his legs to friendly fire while in combat, and now lives in a small, run-down flat with his nephew Carver (Daniel Gentely). The two have a fraught relationship, and what initially seems to be banter turns nasty when Moss reveals he’s been having weekly visits from Marta (Ida Bonnast), a perky Hungarian carer who’s unwittingly been going above and beyond her job description. Inevitably, the two men embark on a battle for Marta’s attention, which has unexpected consequences for all three of them when it becomes clear Moss isn’t the only one in need of help.

Neither of the male characters, on first encounter, is particularly likeable – both are foul-mouthed (the language in the first five minutes is not for the faint-hearted) and quick-tempered, and Carver’s a convicted burglar while Moss is an unashamed misogynist. Yet there are unexpected moments of tenderness and vulnerability between them as the play goes on that reveal there’s a lot more to their relationship, and it’s in these moments that actors Darren Swift (himself an ex-serviceman, who lost his legs to a terrorist bomb in Northern Ireland) and Daniel Gentely really shine. Ida Bonnast’s Marta, on the other hand, has the opposite trajectory; she starts out as a ray of sunshine in the men’s lives, but by the end of the play her presence has begun to feel intrusive and unwelcome.

Harry Burton’s production moves along rapidly, and while this maintains the energy of the play, there are times when the dialogue is delivered so quickly that it’s easy to miss important plot details. On the other hand, the scene changes seem to take an unnecessarily long time – with each scene quite distinct from the others, this doesn’t necessarily interrupt the flow, but it does contrast oddly with the rapid pace of the rest of the play.

Blue on Blue – a military term for friendly fire – subtly draws out the various ways in which the well-intentioned actions of allies can have catastrophic and life-changing consequences, not just in combat but in life in general. It’s a play that possibly needs to be seen more than once in order to unravel its multiple layers of meaning, but even on a first viewing Hardy’s writing provides plenty of food for thought.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉