“Capsule” by Talking Birds

at Warwick Arts Centre, Thursday 20th October 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

It’s always extremely difficult to review a show whose success hinges on a single twist. It’s important a feeling for the show is conveyed, yet the surprise can’t be spoiled for future audiences. “Capsule” is one such show; halfway through, the tables turn and the meaning of the performance becomes clear.

We enter a small capsule, are welcomed by a friendly sailor and are taken on a journey. Through a small window, we see everything from space to the depths of the ocean, acted out by performers and clever props. It feels like a simulation ride, as the room is rocked and sounds are pumped through speakers. It’s a consideration of the beauty of theatre; simple sounds and images can transport us to wherever we desire.

Please don’t read this paragraph if you have tickets for or are planning on seeing the show. As we leave the capsule, we are met by Nick Gibsen, the creator, and told that the performance we’ve just watched was created by the previous group. Now it’s our turn, and we can have fun too. It could all go wrong and if we wished we could refuse to play, but remarkably, we find ourselves trying hard to make this show just as good as the last.

“Capsule” isn’t the most spectacular or enlightening shows, and it isn’t altogether completely original, but the beauty lies in its simplicity. It’s a charming piece of performance, and Talking Birds, the company behind the production, really do know how to let their audience have a bit of fun.

“Lovesong” by Abi Morgan

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 18th October 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

I’m not usually one for sentimentality. I can be a dreadful cynic and would much rather watch a pessimistic documentary film than a soppy rom-com. Yet there’s something about Abi Morgan’s Lovesong which is hopelessly irresistible. Perhaps I was emotionally manipulated by Scott Graham and Steven Hoggett’s touching direction and choreography, but there’s no doubting that this production by Frantic Assembly is a beautiful piece of theatre.

Morgan’s script is remarkably simple, giving us a glimpse of the relationship of one couple in both the past and the present, each time informing a view of the other. Billy and Maggie have clearly been through a lot together, but memories of their former selves keep them going. It’s a fascinating look at the way memory exists in our mind, and questions whether or not we exist at the same time as our past personas. A speech delivered by Billy in the second half of the play asks us to reconsider our theories on time.

What makes this production stand out, however, is the direction and choreography of Graham and Hoggett. The looks the four actors give each other on stage are incredibly telling; when old Maggie looks at young Billy, for example, we see she is in love with a fantasy. Do we continue to love our partners, or are we just in love with an ideal? The choreography heightens this sense of confusion, typified by the climax of the production (including an impressive coup de theatre), during which some sumptuous movement has the cast entangled in a web of memory, past and present.

The direction is complemented perfectly by a warm lighting design by Andy Purves and Merle Hensel’s autumnal set. The emotional manipulation mentioned earlier is paramount in Carolyn Downing’s sentimental sound design and Ian William Galloway’s sweeping video projections, but in a play so dependent on passion, it’d be difficult to stage without aspects which tugged at the heartstrings.

The cast of four work well together, and we see nuances in the older actors which are noticeable in the past. Edward Bennett and Leanne Row’s younger couple have a fiery, passionate relationship, but is at its most touching during the quieter moments. A different kind of passion is evident in the partnering of Sam Cox and Sian Phillips as the aged Billy and Maggie, one in which a lot seems to be left unsaid and frustrations are forced to live in harmony with a deep companionship. If there is a weak link, it’s Phillips, whose somewhat declamatory style doesn’t quite fit in with the more human performances from the other actors.

Lovesong doesn’t set out to change the world or the nature of theatre. Morgan tells a touching story in an innovative way, and is supported by a production with an exciting team and strong cast. We consider what love means to us, and the lengths we’ll go to for our partners, while simultaneously re-evaluating our past. All whilst sobbing into a hanky.

“Big Bag of Boom”

at Warwick Arts Centre, Wednesday 12th October 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

Many people would argue that experimental dance is a transcendent mode of self-expression, reaching deep into the human psyche to tell us more about our inner selves. It’s able, they say, to destroy barriers and bring us closer together, exploring themes which even literature can’t touch through the power of movement. To us mere mortals, however, it more often than not looks like one big joke, and New Art Club have got it exactly right in Big Bag of Boom, where their only aim is to make us laugh.

This is a compilation of all Tom Roden and Pete Shenton’s ‘best bits’ over the fourteen years they have been together, so for someone who has never seen their work before, it is a perfect introduction. Their dances range from “Girl with a Shitty Shoe”, which is fairly self-explanatory, taking inspiration from river-dance, and “One and Another”, a masterclass in self-control and vocal dexterity.

But Roden and Shenton aren’t just technically brilliant. They are also brilliant comedians. They know what an audience wants, and manipulate their routines accordingly. Many of the dances are extended jokes which lead to a punchline, meaning there’s always something to look forward to at the end. Their piece about Australia begins as Aborigine sound and movement, and leads to riffing on the idea of intercourse with various Aussies.

At an hour in length, Big Bag of Boom is a wonderful way to spend an evening. It doesn’t try too hard and doesn’t go on for too long. It wouldn’t surprise me if Roden and Shenton begin to rise up the ranks of comedy, as a new alternative wave takes hold. Then again, it doesn’t really matter if they don’t. They’ve always got their dancing to fall back on.

“Woyzeck on the Highveld” by Handspring Puppet Company

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 11th October 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

Sometimes, it’s clear to see why theatre companies revive past productions. They may realise a commercial hit can create more money, or that themes raised in the past have somehow become more relevent once again. Handspring Puppet Company’s retelling of George Buchner’s Woyzeck, however, originally performed in 1992, is neither more enlightening nor (I imagine) more lucrative for being toured twenty years later. William Kentridge’s production, which transposes the original setting to 60s Johannasberg, has very little in the way of narrative, even if there are some charming images.

There are clear points being made here about apartheid in South Africa; Woyzeck is at the whim of white capitalist paymasters and is forced to become a human guinea-pig so that he can earn a living. His relationship with Maria is muddied by other men in his community, and he feels remarkably inhuman, which is heightened by the very fact he is a puppet manipulated by others. But it’s difficult to keep on top of the story, as some scenes contain no more than movement to a haunting dirge or a ring-master baiting a rhino to emphasise the idea that anything can be educated. It’s not easy keeping on top of it all when the company so frequently goes off-piste.

Kentridge’s animations are, ironically, perhaps the best thing about this production. They move along ideas and setting far better than both text and character. The puppets themsevles are enchanting enough, but without a decent plot it’s impossible to ever feel for them. It’s a shame that the compelling atmosphere which is created is completely let down by the mundanity of the show. And our contemporary selves cannot shed much more light on this show than out nineties counterparts. Then again, if there’s one thing this production has shown, it’s that Handspring have come along leaps and bounds in the time between Woyzeck on the Highveld and War Horse.

“My Last Car” by Sarah Woods

at Warwick Arts Centre, Tuesday 4th October 2011

Written for www.StageWon.co.uk

For the last half a century, the automobile has become synonymous with modern living, and its significance can be measured by the number of events in our lives which have been played out within these hurtling tin cans. It’s not a prophetic statement to suggest there is something extraordinarily romantic yet horribly unethical about cars, but this is pretty much what Al Dix’s half-installation, half-performance My Last Car spends seventy minutes trying to convince us.

Chris Hannon and Olwen May are the two performers showing us the variety of “human stories” which can be told by a singular car. The piece begins and ends with a father and daughter saying goodbye to their family car, with tales of love, crashes and inspiration in between. There are monologues performed with intrigue, but they lack a genuine heart. The tumult of facts and figures does nothing to stir us.

For all its promise of exploring the car as an object, Sarah Woods’ script darts from one idea to another without allowing each to breathe and settle. The issue is not with the text itself, but the desire to cover everything that the car stands for symbolically. Rather than picking on a few strands, we’re thrown around like a dummy in a crash-test vehicle. The lack of any kind of unity (except the obvious theme of automobiles) means it’s incredibly difficult to become emotionally engaged, and we never really question our own beliefs and experiences.

Al Dix’ direction fills the small space well, with Steve Gumbley and Bryan Tweddle’s set, made up of a car split into three parts, taking up half of the room. Dix seems to want to get out as many ideas as possible, but some charming presentational devices (such as projecting live images of miniature cars onto a screen) don’t really have any grounding in the overarching theme. The performances given by Hannon and May are engaging enough, and they grapple their multiple roles well, but ad-libbed asides to audience feel forced.

Shanaz Gulzar’s projected designs are strikingly haunting, reminding us how far we travel in cars and how our society has become saturated with motors. But when the performance ends, one can’t help thinking a simpler approach would have been far more satisfying.

The installation aspect is by far more successful. In the hours preceding the evening’s event we are able to amble around the performance space, which houses a car taken apart and strewn around the room with a story or fact attached to each separate piece. This is the project at its best; we are given time to stop and think, without being forced to go places which don’t seem important. 509 Arts display some touching thoughts here, but the lack of any kind of argument means our consideration of the topic never follows us out of the auditorium.