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Interview: Michelle Payne, Sad About The Cows

Published on May 20, 2019July 20, 2019 by LizLeave a comment

Michelle Payne is a playwright, director and performer whose work has been widely produced since 2015, when her debut play Orchid picked up two awards on its first outing. She’s also a founder of Caspa Arts, an acting school for young performers who can’t afford to go to drama school, and from tomorrow brings one-woman show Sad About The Cows to Tristan Bates Theatre for a week-long run.

The dark comedy explores the themes of female self-image through the story of Rachel, a young woman obsessed with consuming. “In the age of social media we are constantly bombarded with information and images, and it’s how her impressionable mind processes this,” explains Michelle. “I wanted to create a seemingly high-functioning character that happens to suffer with her mental health – it does not define who she is.”

Though it’s not a directly autobiographical piece, Michelle did draw on her own experience to write Sad About The Cows. “I’ve seen a lot of theatre and TV about characters who face problems with their mental health, but hadn’t necessarily seen anything that resonated with my experiences,” she says. “I used my personal experience as a starting point for creating the play, but made sure that I adapted the plot so that Rachel is definitely a fictional character. This thought helps me to safeguard myself in the performance, to remember that I’m just telling an important story.”

Sad About The Cows transfers to Tristan Bates with a female creative team, after first being performed as part of the John Thaw Initiative Working Class Season with Actor Awareness earlier this year. “We stepped in for a gap in programming for the first full length showing as part of the John Thaw Initiative, which challenged me to finish writing the play,” says Michelle. “From this, the Tristan Bates offered us the week run. I was lucky enough to find a diverse female creative team who have shared slightly different views about body image and its relationship to mental health. Each creative in the team had something different to offer towards the piece, whether that be culturally different or from their life experiences so far! It’s been a great process with five different voices in the room.”

According to national charity BEAT, 1.25 million people in the UK have an eating disorder – 75% of them female. Michelle hopes the play will break down barriers and start a conversation about the subject: “The main thing I’d like people to know about eating disorders is that it’s not necessarily that people who suffer want to be skinny, it’s often a way of keeping control. And also that people can function despite the illness. I’d like our audiences to be able to have an open discussion about mental health disorders. So often the stigma stops people from discussing this at all and people worry about what others might think if they admit they suffer.”

Review: Summer Street at Waterloo East Theatre

Published on May 19, 2019July 20, 2019 by LizLeave a comment

The idea for Summer Street: The Hilarious Aussie Soap Opera Musical (to give it its full title) dates back to 2004, when writer and director Andrew Norris was inspired to pay homage to the Australian soaps of his youth, and the stars who dominated UK pop charts and panto line-ups for much of the 80s and 90s. The result is a well-meaning, nostalgic and unashamedly ridiculous comedy musical that’s probably best appreciated after a glass of wine or two.

The plot revolves around Bruce (Simon Snashall), Angie (Sarah-Louise Young), Paul (Myke Cotton) and Steph (Julie Clare), four former stars of popular musical “soapy”, Summer Street. All but one have failed to have any kind of acting career following their dramatic exits from the show, so they jump at the chance to reunite for an anniversary special – but all is not as it seems… While on camera one of the characters has to be rescued from an abandoned mine just before her wedding, life behind the scenes has its own share of drama as each of the four actors reflects on life post-Summer Street.

The show obviously takes great delight in sending up all the well-worn soapy tropes, from dramatic deaths to product placement. The on-screen characters are recognisable stereotypes – the doctor with an alcohol problem, the in-the-closet lesbian in love with her best friend, the nosey neighbour – and anyone who knows anything about Neighbours or Home and Away (or, to be fair, any of the UK soaps) will never fail to get the joke. It’s all enjoyably silly and there are some quite funny bits, often at the most unexpected moments – one character’s account of his wife’s tragic demise and the heroic actions of Pogo the neighbourhood dog are highlights.

The problem is that in trying to poke fun at the banality of the soap format, Summer Street ends up suffering a similar fate; the characters are under-developed, the story makes little sense, and several of the familiar jokes are repeated so often that they start to feel a bit tired. The same, unfortunately, goes for the musical numbers, which are for the most part catchy enough but tend to go on just a bit longer than seems necessary. (In Brighton only half of the songs were performed, which says quite a lot about their value within the production.)

The show may have its flaws but the cast enthusiastically make the best of it, and there are some strong vocal performances – particularly from Sarah-Louise Young, who steals the show in Act 2 with pop ballad Chains Around My Heart. The nature of the production calls for larger than life performances, and all four cast members seem more than happy to oblige, adopting suitably flamboyant Aussie accents, cheerfully reeling off lines of expositional dialogue – often at high speed – and throwing themselves without hesitation into Lauren Chinery’s comically stagey dance routines.

To give credit where it’s due, Summer Street never pretends to be anything other than what it is: a spoof comedy musical that takes an already over-the-top TV format and takes it up another notch or three. In that sense, it does exactly what it says on the tin. Could it have been done with a bit more finesse? Yes, probably. But as it stands the show is harmless fun, and you can’t say fairer than that.

Review: Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons at Barons Court Theatre

Published on May 11, 2019July 20, 2019 by LizLeave a comment

I briefly considered writing a 140-word review of Sam Steiner’s Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons, but quickly decided against it. For one thing, if the play proves anything it’s that working with such a limited quota is difficult. Also, I just wasted five on the title.

So, in significantly more than 140 words: what’s it all about? Well, it’s a dystopian drama in which the British government – for reasons that are never really made clear – has just imposed a new law that limits everyone to 140 words of communication a day. The political and personal ramifications of this play out through the eyes of a young couple, Bernadette (Jemima Murphy) and Oliver (Charlie Suff), who only realise once every word counts how much they’ve so far left unsaid.

Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons Lemons at Barons Court Theatre — Photo credit: Maximilian Clarke

The plot has many frustrating gaps in it (why the ban was imposed, what types of communication it covers, how it’s monitored, what happens if you go over the limit, or if it’s even possible to do so…) but nonetheless the play does raise some fascinating questions about how we communicate with each other and the way we use language. Oliver, a musician and staunch opponent of the ban, points out the social and economic value of words; 140 words means a lot more to someone who has to go out and find work than it does to someone who’s already financially stable – like, for instance, his lawyer girlfriend. Then there’s the way words become a symbol of how much each values the relationship, as Bernadette repeatedly arrives home each evening having saved fewer words than Oliver has, and how the ban forces them to be creative and come up with their own private “couple’s code”. It’s particularly interesting to note that in some ways the two of them actually communicate more after the ban, revealing truths that were always avoided before, when it was easy to change the subject or “talk about it later”.

Unsurprisingly given the subject matter, the spaces between words carry just as much weight as the words themselves, and this comes across very effectively in director Hamish Clayton’s production. The play’s script is made up of a dizzying number of very short scenes, some of them merely seconds long, and every action that takes place in between – even something as simple as moving a chair or getting into bed – feels carefully considered to ensure that not a single moment of the 80-minute run time is wasted. The performances given by Jemima Murphy and Charlie Suff are similarly meticulous, the two of them saying just as much with their movements, gestures and facial expressions as they do with their dialogue. Meanwhile Gareth Rowntree’s set differentiates with admirable simplicity between the play’s different timelines; post-ban, a light is illuminated for each character, which goes from white to red when they hit zero.

Though written in 2015, the play’s parallels with Brexit are plain to see: the debate over the ban splits the nation, nobody really expects it to go through, and when it does there are a host of unforeseen consequences, most of which affect the poorest in society. The programme acknowledges this relevance, but there’s more than enough going on here to ensure that the play stands on its own, and that even those who are sick of hearing about Brexit (which is, let’s face it, most of us) shouldn’t be put off. A polished and carefully directed production, Lemons is the kind of thought-provoking play that keeps giving, with plenty of material to ensure an excellent debate in the bar afterwards.

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 Sign of Four at Greenwich Theatre

Published on May 10, 2019July 20, 2019 by LizLeave a comment

When it comes to British literature, characters don’t come much more iconic than Sherlock Holmes – and much like James Bond or Doctor Who, Baker Street’s famous consulting detective has worn a variety of faces over the last century or so (over 70 actors in movies alone, according to Wikipedia). We could be forgiven, then, for thinking he’s given us as much entertainment as we can reasonably expect from one fictional character… but then along come Blackeyed Theatre to prove us all wrong.

Nick Lane’s new adaptation of the second Sherlock Holmes novel, The Sign of Four, is thrilling, funny and endlessly creative in its storytelling. It also gives Holmes a fresh new face in Luke Barton, who perfectly captures the arrogance and disdain for sentiment that you’d expect to find in any portrayal of the famously brilliant sleuth. Unlike some others, though, he’s also rather charming, and there’s often a mischievous twinkle in his eye – particularly during his exchanges with Watson – that suggests he’s much more in tune with human emotions than he’d have us believe. Most importantly, he has fantastic chemistry with Joseph Derrington’s exasperated but loyal Watson (also the play’s narrator) and their friendship is not just very believable but completely engaging throughout. Completing the core trio of characters is Stephanie Rutherford as Mary, who refreshingly refuses to be relegated to the role of damsel in distress, pointing out more than once that she’s quite capable of speaking for herself, thank you very much.

As for the plot, it’s typically complex and intricately detailed – but Lane’s adaptation, in which six actors play around 20 different characters between them, probably makes it as accessible as it’s possible for it to be. The gist is that Holmes and an instantly lovestruck Watson are hired by governess Mary Morstan to solve the mystery of her father’s disappearance and discover who’s been sending her precious jewels in the mail – and, more to the point, why. The case is complicated further when a body is discovered (inside a locked room, naturally) and a bumbling police inspector (Christopher Glover) insists on arresting the wrong man (Ru Hamilton), seemingly for no other reason than to settle a personal score with Holmes. One high speed boat chase down the Thames later, Holmes and Watson have their quarry (Zach Lee), and it turns out he has quite a story to tell…

To bring an ambitious plot such as this to life on stage requires no small amount of creativity and precision, and the cast of six deliver, juggling accents, costumes, timelines, musical instruments and pieces of the set as we travel across London and all the way to India in search of the truth. Tristan Parkes’ music fits the piece perfectly, and is a crucial element of the production without ever distracting us from the action. Victoria Spearing’s set is a work of genius, more than once drawing delighted laughter from the audience as it’s rearranged to become a boat, a carriage, a fort, a dock and any number of other settings. And finally, a special mention to costume designer Naomi Gibbs, who rises admirably to the challenge posed by a one-legged man.

The Sign of Four is fast-paced family fun, a great piece of storytelling with a little bit of everything: mystery, comedy, romance (and bromance), and even a bit of a history lesson – albeit one from which Britain emerges in a less than positive light. Blackeyed Theatre’s touring production is a hugely entertaining adventure, and a welcome return for everyone’s favourite consulting detective.

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: Starved at the Bread and Roses Theatre

Published on May 5, 2019July 20, 2019 by LizLeave a comment

Michael Black’s two-hander Starved is a quietly challenging and impactful play, which provides an eye-opening insight into what it’s like to live in poverty in Britain today. Lad (Michael Black) and Lass (Alana Connaughton) are on the run – though from what we don’t find out until later – and they’ve ended up squatting in a bedsit on a rough housing estate in Hull. Forced to live on whatever he can nick from the local shop, and in constant fear of being discovered, their relationship grows increasingly toxic until eventually they’re forced to decide if the life they have is actually worth living.

Whether we like to admit it or not, we (by which I mean those of us fortunate enough never to have experienced it) all have preconceived ideas of what poverty means. Starved tackles those assumptions and challenges us to broaden our view; despite the play’s title, the characters’ lack of resources and the physical hunger they suffer as a result is just one of their problems. Alcohol dependency, period poverty, and the sheer mind-numbing boredom of being stuck indoors living on Cup A Soup day in day out, all contribute to a slowly building tension between the two young people, each of whom is already vulnerable enough in their own way. Alienated from their families and with nobody else to turn to, they cling to each other – even though it’s painfully obvious that their relationship is doing neither of them any good.

That feeling of being trapped is captured very effectively in the set design for Matt Strachan’s production, which wraps the characters and their squalid bedsit in a spider’s web, with just one small window through which to observe the world outside. This also means there’s a constant barrier between the audience and the characters, which heightens the overwhelming sense of isolation from the rest of the world.

Both Alana Connaughton and Michael Black are excellent, delivering the fast-paced dialogue very naturally – the one downside of this being that at times it’s difficult to catch what each of them is saying, as they talk over each other and mutter asides. We can easily believe in them as a young couple who love and care for each other, but equally as two damaged individuals driven by their circumstances to lash out. They’re both complex and flawed characters, but Lad is easily the more difficult of the two to like – he insists on Lass’s gratitude for all his efforts on her behalf, but refuses to make any concessions himself; the period scene is particularly difficult to watch, and you frequently get the sense that Lass may have simply traded one abusive relationship for another.

Starved is billed as a dark comedy, and while that’s an accurate description – there are some great one-liners scattered throughout – ultimately, there’s very little to laugh about in this grimly realistic portrayal of life below the poverty line. At just under an hour it’s a short play, but one that manages to provide plenty of food for thought during its brief running time. And although it doesn’t come to a dramatic climax, the story and its characters still make a powerful and lasting impact.

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… 😉