“Stationary Excess” and “Pedestrian” Double Bill

at Warwick Arts Centre, Thursday 24th February 2011

Sometimes I marvel at how lucky I am to live right on the doorstep of Warwick Arts Centre. Granted, a lot of the shows shown in the venue can be a little hit and miss and many are utterly forgettable, but once in a while we are treated to a theatrical feast. Stationary Excess and Pedestrian are two wonderfully whimsical one-man shows, which, when played back-to-back, illuminate one another as if they are in competition to create the most absurd monologue.

Stationary Excess, created by Tim Cowbury and Jessica Latowicki, comprises of one woman (Latowicki) riding an exercise bike while recounting her love for Superman (although his name is never used). As she recounts her monologue and pedals, we watch as she gets ready for a night out, downs a bottle of champagne and scoffs an entire packet of biscuits. Mechanical noises and sounds blur the line between theatre and live art, but the intricacies and honesty of the text stop this from becoming a pretentious piece about the nature of performance. The way in which we are slowly fed facts about Superman himself gives us something to follow and allows the audience to subconsciously participate in what is happening.

But what makes this piece stand out is Latowicki’s performance, which is extraordinary. She throws herself fully into the role and genuinely lives the text. Even after gorging herself with chocolate digestives she doesn’t stop for breath, ploughing on regardless and allowing us to fully believe in her story. It is perhaps one of the bravest performances I’ve ever seen.

Pedestrian follows in a similar vain as we watch Tom Wainwright take us through a ‘normal’ day in a nightmare-ish, drugged-up world in which human-sized goldfish and an encounter with Harold Pinter are not out of place. Although it is an imagined life, it is at the same time a hilarious indictment on the state of our society; the street which Tom walks down is lines with countless Costa Coffees, Starbucks and Gaps, and people are eloquently split into four distinct groups: “sweatybacks”, “wankers”, “fuckwits” and “cunts”.

Wainwright’s script is wonderfully nuanced, and is saturated with glorious phrases such as “my bottom fell out” which he clearly savours. His performance is also strong, as each character is clearly defined and he makes us want to believe in his tale. This is also helped by the sound and video design by Simon Wainwright (no relation), which creates an ethereal background to the central performance and sets the piece firmly in the ‘fanciful’ category.

It seems peculiar that these two shows were once shown at separate times in separate venues, for they complement each other perfectly. They prove that one-man shows don’t have to be boring and still, and that a little humour never goes amiss when we are investing all our energies in one person. They also show the magic that can occur when a great script is married with a brilliant performance; indeed these are two of the best performances you’ll see this side of summer.

“A Dish of Tea with Dr Johnson”

adapted by Russell Barr, Ian Redford and Max Stafford-Clark

from James Boswell’s The Life of Samuel Johnson and the Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides,

at Warwick Arts Centre, Wednesday 23rd February 2011

It is difficult to effectively portray wit on stage. If done incorrectly, the characters seem no more than pretentious try-hards musing on things which in reality have little importance. Fortunately for the creators of A Dish of Tea with Dr Johnson, they had many of the lines already written for them in James Boswell’s Life of Samuel Johnson, meaning a fully fledged character with a sparkling wit was already present. Although the play is a marvel of literary skill and intellectual repartee, lack of pace and drive keep us from being engaged for the duration.

Dr Johnson (Ian Redford) invites the audience into his world as James Boswell (Russell Barr) leads us through his many anecdotes and musings. The play isn’t much more than a conversation with the creator of the English Dictionary, but its carefully constructed jokes and humorous sketches never fail to provoke impressed laughter. We hear of Johnson’s thoughts on everyone from Garrick to Homer, watch as the King requests he write a book detailing the most important English poets and, as the play comes to a close, of his relationship with Hester Thrale.

It is for this very reason, however, that something doesn’t quite click. No story ever really has a chance to come into its stride before the baton is passed onto the next, causing energy to ebb intermittently throughout. Max Stafford-Clark’s direction does make the most of the witty text but fails to grasp fully any sort of pathos which, presumably, we are supposed to feel towards the end. Just a little more consistency would be useful.

As the eponymous Johnson, Redford moves from a somewhat effete intellectual powerhouse to a weak older man, struggling to order his thoughts and emotions. He certainly looks the part but his constant hand-wringing is sometimes a little distracting. Russell Barr is strong, if not slightly annoying, as the slimy Boswell, grimacing and teasing out facts from Johnson which he doesn’t want to share. When he plays other roles in Johnson’s life, however, he is a little weaker, as we struggle to grasp any real change in character from his previous incarnations. Another confusing decision is to include a dog in the role of Johnson’s cat, who lopes around the table throughout but is never referred to after the initial introduction.

A Dish of Tea with Dr Johnson is an erudite play which examines the life and mind of one of our greatest scholars with skill, even though it is difficult to ever become involved in the action. It is a shame more isn’t made of the way in which Boswell influenced his subject into revealing his secrets and the moving moments during which Johnson defines words in conversation (“melancholy”, “glum”, “sorrow”, “exit”) are few are far between. This is an intellectually enjoyable evening, but one can’t help thinking the life of our hero should be given just a little more emotional weight.

“Best Before” by Rimini Protokoll

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 22nd February 2011

There’s something in it. There really is. The general idea behind having each audience member control their own personal avatar on-screen through a virtual life is one which holds a certain amount of potential. In the on-screen world, ’BestLand’, we can decide whether or not we want to have underage sex, take drugs and drink and we can vote on various polls such as if we want to allow immigrants into our environment and who we want to be president. It’s a fairly accurate representation of reality and tells us something about our hidden desires, but it just isn’t given room to speak for itself.

This is clearly a very sophisticated piece of equipment, drawing on virtual worlds such as Second Life and, to an extent, Facebook, where we act out things we aren’t able to do in the real world and form virtual relationships. But whether it constitutes a two-hour piece of theatre is another question altogether. Just making everyone in the audience muck about with virtual selves with very little interaction and no obvious narrative soon becomes repetitive. By the time we hit thirty years, the novelty value is already beginning to wear off and we soon lose interest. When we’re offered the chance to commit suicide later in life, many jump at the chance.

But this isn’t the issue. The problem lies in the fact that on stage are a group of four people who have had a brilliant idea and try too hard to make it theatrical and engaging. They each enter delivering a monologue about their lives which they update throughout the course of the evening but which we do not care about in the slightest. Are these characters supposed to draw us in, or give us a commentary on the events on-screen?

The most embarrassing moments are when the four ‘performers’ attempt to drive some emotion into their piece. They sit around a ‘campfire’ while a man plays guitar and snow falls from the sky as they try to show us time is drawing on. Intermittent “News-flashes” endeavor to inject tension into the project but usually turn out to be incredibly dull. And the speech is laden with geeky references and nerdy jokes; why would we care about them when we have been told this evening is about the audience as “actor”.

I repeat: there’s something in this idea, but without sufficient cohesion and any form of justification it ends up being nothing more than playing a computer game with one hundred other people in front of four nerds. I’m sure the voting trends found across the world-tour of Best Before are extremely revealing about how different nationalities think, but as a single piece of theatre this does nothing to make us feel remotely interested. If I wanted to play video games, I could have just stayed at home.

“The Lieutenant of Inishmore” by Martin McDonagh

at the Loft Theatre, Monday 21st February 2011

How does he do it? Every time, Martin McDonagh manages to make gallons of blood and countless guts seem like the funniest thing we have ever seen. And although the actions are mindless, his characters never seem completely bleached of emotion. The Lieutenant of Inishmore, McDonagh’s 2001 play, is testament to this. Even though the stage is eventually littered with six corpses (two cat, four human), a morsel of humanity never fails to shine through. Gordon Vallins’ production at the Loft Theatre highlights this while forcing us to consider the farcical nature of the violence we watch unfold.

Padraic (Jimmy Proctor) is a member of the Irish National Liberation Army, a role lusted after by Mairead (Eva Clifford). They dream of the liberation of the Irish people and a revolution which will change their world. They talk of becoming a splinter group, and eventually a splinter of a splinter, which only serves to heighten the sense of ridiculousness surrounding the operation of terrorists. These sections of the play are late 20th Century versions of scenes in Four Lions.

Only a glimpse of this world is given, however, as the major focus is on the house of Padraic’s father Donny (Gus MacDonald), which Mairead’s brother Davey (David Tennyson) regularly frequents. This pairing is close to Laurel and Hardy, and Vallins’ direction often emphasises the physicality in these scenes. The comedy is found in the overspill of the terrorist groups into this suburban setting, arguing over petty things. Namely the death of a cat or two.

The performances are generally strong; Proctor in the central role is most impressive, seething with disappointment throughout and exerting huge amounts of energy in the final scenes. Clifford shows clearly that hers is the only character with any sort of development, and MacDonald has the audience in stitches throughout. Weakest is Tennyson, who never really finds out whether or not his character is supposed to understand what is happening and sometimes struggles to keep a straight face. This is remedied, however, by Andy MacCallum as Christy, the antagonist of the piece, who throughout supports violence but eventually redeems himself with a final touch of humanity.

Gordon Vallins’ design is as impressive as his direction; the simple set portrays a lived-in home which easily becomes a bloodbath as gallons are literally poured over the playing area. James Ruffell’s sound offers a touch of genius, blasting through Irish-inspired rock music through the speakers to show the mix of rural and city in the play.

The Lieutenant of Inishmore is McDonagh at his best, mixing bloody violence with careful wit to create a piece of theatre which never fails to amaze. His script is laden with one liners and twists deftly handled by Vallins and his cast. All of which is mixed with enough blood for even an over-the-top production of Titus Andronicus. What more could you want?

“How To Disappear Completely and Never Be Found” by Fin Kennedy

at Warwick Arts Centre, Saturday 12th February 2011

It’s rare that one sees a production of student drama which is so impressive it could have been created by professionals. Scripts as complex and unusual as Fin Kennedy’s How To Disappear Completely and Never Be Found are difficult enough to do justice with a huge team of creatives, a large budget and ample time to rehearse, but Gwilym Lawrence has created a production which explores all the intricacies of the original text with extraordinary performances to boot.

Charlie Hunt, a twenty-nine year old brand manager, is stuck in a rut. His life is repetitive, dull and unfulfilling, He turns to drink and drugs, but still this isn’t enough. After a terrible incident he runs to Mike, who gives him all the advice he needs so that he may disappear completely and become Adam, starting a new life for himself. Even with a new identity, however, nothing changes; life is just as repetitive, just as dull, just as unfulfilling. The plot sounds deceptively simple, but Kennedy injects new twists, revealed identities and unforeseen relationships which keep us hooked throughout.

How to Disappear Completely… is ostensibly a play about identity, asking us to think about what makes us who we are. Under Lawrence’s direction, however, many more elements of Kennedy’s script are extracted. Focus is laid on conformity; external characters seem to be stereotypes, standing in straight lines and wearing matching clothing, suggesting they have been conditioned by the society in which they were raised. The darkly comic aspects of the script are extrapolated, showing the futility of our lives and how much in our existence is laughable.

Set, sound and lighting highlight these aspects perfectly. Charlie Ash’s simple but ingenious five-sided table design, around which the audience sits, allows Hunt to stow away memories, leaving pieces of himself behind to find later while hinting that all situations in which we find ourselves are simply reconfigurations of the same thing. John Lawson’s lighting design, with red bulbs dotted around the audience’s periphery, is subtle enough to go unnoticed but constantly suggests the nature of a scene. Jonathan Moss’ sound, supported by Thom May’s soundscaping, gives us an insight into Charlie’s mind, never silent, and although at times it is a little distracting, it is usually an excellent addition to the text.

But it is in the performances that this production excels. The cast of five play multiple roles, all of which have been meticulously constructed. As most of the female characters, Emma Jane Denly offers many facets of womanhood, all of which verge on caricature but remain believable. Michael Murray in the comic roles provides welcome relief throughout, deftly handling Kennedy’s subtle wit and creating characters which would be annoying enough to drive anyone mad. As the pathologist Sophie, Eleanor Adams is calm, guiding us through the plot carefully and giving a way in for the audience. Richard Wing fills the other roles, and is particularly impressive as Mike, the con-man who gives Charlie his way out, showing a man who, although working against the law, is still perfectly likeable. His speech asking us to enjoy the “Little Things” in life forces us to sit up and listen, and is delivered beautifully.

The best should always be saved for last, and in the central role of Charlie Hunt, Ed Davis is spectacular, grabbing our attention right from the outset and never allowing it to wane. He hurtles through his set monologues with startling intensity and can switch to quiet meditation in an instant, contemplating the smaller details of life with zeal. Indeed at times it feels like this role was written for him.

There are no revolutionary concepts or groundbreaking techniques here, just a simple and effective piece of theatre which puts the story first. An intelligent text is handled with skill but never feels overwhelming, and performances take centre stage. If this production of How to Disappear Completely… doesn’t get into the National Student Drama Festival, there is some gross injustice in the world.

“Spring Awakening”

music by Duncan Sheik

book and lyrics by Steven Sater

presented by Musical Theatre Warwick

at Warwick Arts Centre, Thursday 3rd February 2011

As you probably know, the writer of this review is not a big musicals fan. Granted, Matilda had me dancing in the aisles and Billy Elliot makes me want to up sticks and protest, but on the whole I feel a slight convulsion in the depths of my stomach when I hear the words “musical” and “theatre” put together. Both music and theatre are extraordinarily powerful art forms, but when put together the end product can often go horribly awry. Which is why you may be surprised to hear that yours truly believes the Fruedian nightmare that is the collective conscience of adolescents presented in Spring Awakening by Musical Theatre Warwick is pretty damn good.

Based on the original play by Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening follows the lives of a few teenagers, namely Melchoir Gabor, Wendla Bergmann and Moritz Stiefel, suppressed by their elders, as they struggle through rape, abortion and suicide to try to understand their feelings. It’s a fairly flat and predictable story, and Steven Sater’s book, with its melodramatic dialogue devoid of much emotion, leaves much to be desired. It is redeemed, however, by Duncan Sheik’s powerful, rocky score, which is the only way the characters are able to express themselves. The fact that the book and music do not sit well together is perhaps intended, but it does shift the attention somewhat to one which suggests music can empower, which throughout doesn’t seem to be the point at all.

Under the direction of Fergus Nimmo and Claire Furner, however, the musical is given a breath of life. This production is nigh-on flawless, and, being an entirely student run enterprise, manages to draw out the idea of youth being confined, something emphasised by Isobel Power Thomas’ church-cum-village-hall set. A few odd choices are made, such as the decision to fly in a bench and float snow from above which cannot be seen until it hits the floor in a puddle, but some of Lizzie Drapper’s strokes of genius, such as graves delineated by light and neon strips on the back wall, more than make up for this.

Throughout the cast excels. Leading as Melchoir, Stewart Clarke is astonishing, brooding and suitably confused. He is complemented perfectly by Victoria Humphreys as Wendla, who moves from innocent young girl to broken adult effortlessly. Alastair Hill in the role of Moritz is removed from the others, constantly brooding, with an impressive voice that carries the first act. Special mention must also go to Charlie Ash as Ilse and Callum Runciman and Lilith Brewer in the adult roles, providing much of the comedy and showing some wonderful characterisation. There isn’t enough room here to give credence to everyone, but their strength as an ensemble is shown in some beautiful moments, such as Moritz’ funeral and in the spine-tingling finale “Purple Summer”. They are choreographed skilfully by Sita Thomas, whose dances move from confined and enclosed movements in “Touch Me” to chaos in the belter ”Totally Fucked”.

Whoever chose to stage Spring Awakening at Warwick Arts Centre also deserves recognition, for this is a musical which speaks to a generation who will not be shackled by their elders, and the impressive music shows where musical theatre must go to keep audiences engaged. This production manages to minimise the confused tone of the play (is it tragedy or feel-good?) and is performed with complete conviction, never once compromising. If nothing else, it is a superb argument in favour of educating children about the facts of life at a young age. Perhaps musicals aren’t that bad after all.