In the 300th anniversary of the publication of Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, Robinson. The Other Island offers a multilayered way to rethink the book. Director Mathilde Lopez and John Norton, Artistic Director of the company Give it a Name, blend Robinson Crusoe with Michel Tournier’s Friday and convey a somber mood through an original sound experience, devised by John Norton and Jack Drewry. The play unfolds in our heads as we listen to the sounds, words, and music with headphones. Robinson is more than a play; it is a shared and intimate experience of reading and reflecting on solitude.
The Robinson Crusoe of Robinson. The Other Island (played by John Rowley) suffers a maddening loneliness alone on the Island, but lonely is also Bianca (played by Luciana Chapman), who reads Defoe’s and Tournier’s books. Bianca is alone in her flat, eating microwavable meals, trying to work out how to fix a leaking tap, hiding from her father, and yet seeking a connection with him. As Bianca reads about Robinson in our ears, it is also us who experience loneliness. Isolated from other members of the audience by headphones, yet establishing a connection with them as we watch and listen together. The drama is at times broken by the lively and funny interventions of book clubbers talking about Robinson Crusoe into the mics of Robinson and of Bianca. It is effective, although on opening night there were perhaps too many voices, rather than the one or two during rehearsals, thus losing intensity.
Robinson Crusoe’s misogyny, racism, and colonialism are not brushed under the carpet but take centre stage. They are tackled with humour, puzzlement, and even violence. At the words ‘I bought me a negro slave,’ Bianca gets angry in her anger she becomes Robinson. She orders to fetch the Governor’s coat (Robinson’s), smokes, and reads the horrendous passage where ‘negroes’ are things, tools of work, lesser humans. The colonial racism is juxtaposed with Gil Scott-Heron’s ‘Whitey on the Moon,’
The 1970’s that contrasts the power of white man colonising the moon while black people have no money to pay the doctor’s bill. Bianca takes up a plank of wood and attacks Robinson breaking into the world she is reading about.
Bianca and Robinson interact only slightly. It
is a dance of two lonely people seeking connection and forgiveness. Robinson is
shown in his humanity: lonely, resourceful, exploring and observing the island,
fighting against his destiny, and begging for forgiveness. A soft music creates
intimacy. Bianca and Robinson sit together playing with dough like children and
like children the audience listens to the voice reading the book. In the week
when Jean Vanier, the founder of the community L’Arche, died, Robinson
reminds me of his teaching on loneliness:
‘Loneliness is part of being human, because there is nothing in existence that can completely fulfill the needs of the human heart. … It is because we belong with others and see them as brothers and sisters in humanity that we learn not only to accept them as they are, with different gifts and capacities, but to see each one as a person with a vulnerable heart. We learn to forgive those who hurt us or reject us; we ask forgiveness of those we have hurt.’
Robinson is a meditative piece that stimulates thought and nudges us slightly towards compassion.
Robinson: The Other Island, performed by the ‘Give It a Name’ theatre company at Chapter Arts Centre in Stiwido Seligman, follows two people who are stranded in two completely different worlds. This stage play is based heavily on the Novel ‘Robinson Crusoe’ by Daniel Defoe which was done in an intriguing and exciting way.
The first thing I noticed when I entered was the studio was that there were headphones on all the seats which at first made me apprehensive as I thought the use of headphones would be a distraction but in fact, it actually really helped with the creation and development of the play itself. The concept of this play was that Bianca played by Luciana Trapman wanted to escape the modern world through the ‘portal’ of the pages of the three-hundred-year-old book. At the same time, Robinson Crusoe played by John Rowley is trying to escape the island which was clear within the play itself.
Rehearsal images by Jorge Lizalde
The two contrasting characters, the modern day young woman and the shipwrecked old man, provide the perfect contrasts which allowed the audience to easily follow the story and portrayed the area, date, and context of where each ‘part’ was taking place which was cleverly done. As an audience member, we can see the staging being built in front of us which only added to the immersive-ness of the play. The company had engineered the headphones so the audio is split between the left and the right ear which means you can be apart of both of the ‘worlds’ at the same time. While we could hear the calming reading of the book from Bianca in one ear we could also the sounds of the stranded island (e.g. sea noises, voices, etc.) This was done to illustrate the fact that when a person reads a book it helps build a visual picture of what is being described in the book. Due to this the audience is an external third party, we can see Bianca reading the book and the story being created in front of us. This was a really ingenious concept from the director Mathilde Lopez. As a literature fan I could easily recognise and relate to this. The use of headphones made this play unique, modern and contemporary.
Robinson Crusoe was clearly shown as a shipwrecked man and was based on the description as described in the book. The character did look as if he could have been shipwrecked and his voice suited the role perfectly. The character, however, did have some problems. The first time we encounter the character was at the beginning of the play when he delivered a speech about laws and legislation of the new island. However, this speech was done on top of a step ladder into a microphone, which was done facing away from the audience. It may be a personal opinion but having a speech done away from the audience and not being able to see the actors face is confusing for the audience especially considering the headphones make it had to locate where the sound is coming through. After this, we walked across the stage to collect props which sort of detached the character from this the deserted island. The stage could have done with an exit from one side of the ‘stage’ to the other. As Robinson, walking across the stage distracted the audience that could have been avoided. This collecting props was a problem throughout the play. As the prop table was sort of on stage we could hear all the rustling and banging which broke the calmness and soothing-ness of Bianca’s voice.
The actress who played Bianca had a very calming voice. The almost whispered tone was really soothing through the headphone which was really nice for the audience. Her voice was almost ASMR like which was very nice. However, this character was very relatable. She was portrayed almost like a teenager who experiences the struggles of the modern world. Due to this she does use swear words which clashed with the ASMR voice used while reading. This was a little confusing but the actress used two distinct voices for reading (which was the ASMR style voice) and a normal conversation voice she used when chatting to her father etc.
A really nice touch was that when her phone was ringing we could actually see the screen on her phone that told us someone was ringing which was really cool and helped to add to the realness. In conclusion Robinson: The Other Island was an intelligently designed show which was contemporary, unique and unlike another play I have seen before. If you are interested in plays and wonder how theatre can evolve in the future then I advise you to watch this production, it is not to be missed! I give this play 4 out of 5 stars as it showed me a side of theatre I never knew existed!
Production photos by Janire Najera and Raquel Garcia at 4Pi Productions
(5 / 5)
As members of the audience take their seats, two actresses are on stage dressed in a gown which looks like a robe à la Polonaise straight from the court of Versailles, embroidered for today’s ‘sex positive’ era with vulva-shaped pockets. A third actress, the ‘deaf one,’ as she’s labelled, joins the other two late as she didn’t hear the Tannoy calling performers to the stage. Alpha, Coral, and Beaty are three disabled actresses cast as part of the Chorus in a production of Euripides’ The Trojan Women. They watch the play from afar, away from the spotlights, and stuck in enormous gowns. As the Euripides’ play unfolds in all its horror, Alpha, Coral, and Beaty squabble, make fun of each other and of each other’s disability, and thus demolish the sanitised image of disabled people as helpless victims deserving of pity and not much else, fruit of the condescending benevolence of our society.
The sparkling and irreverent dialogue gives way to the harrowing tones of rejection, loss, and death, experienced by the actresses. The violence of The Trojan Women, which culminates in women killing their own children so that they would not be killed by the invading army, is woven together with the actresses’ own stories, as one contemplates abortion, another tells about hers, and the third recounts having to give away her baby and being sterilised because disabled women cannot be ‘mothers.’ Peeling is brutally funny and harsh. Kaite O’Reilly’s beautiful writing is interpreted with verve and pathos by Bea Webster, Ruth Curtis, and Steph Lacey, supported by the subtle humour of Erin Hutching as the BSL Performer/Stage Manager. They all entertain, grip, and move the audience.
Peeling affirms the agency and visibility of disabled women, but it goes much deeper than that. Peeling is about truth. It tears down the veil of respectability of our everyday language and conduct, which strip disabled people of agency. It unmasks the condescension and disregard that make disabled people second-class citizens. It reveals how mothers prepare their daughters to play the role of woman as whore or virgin. You need to ‘beguile,’ ‘keep smiling,’ ‘put it out there,’ or avoid at all cost being ‘damaged goods,’ ‘second-hand,’ thus denouncing how women’s body is still constructed in terms of male pleasure. Above all, it demolishes the sugary lie of ‘it will all be fine.’
In a Pirandellian fashion, the play peels away the
layers of untruths that we tell each other about ourselves and others. For
those who might think ourselves righteous and compassionate, Peeling
holds a mirror to show that such attitude makes disabled people and women the
Other, who must adhere to social stereotypes and expectations to be legitimised
in their existence. The masks of social conventions that comfort the bien
pensants and imprison the Other fall faced with the raw life of pain,
death, and loss. Like in Pirandello, such endeavour is here accomplished
through the layers of performance of the theatrical masks. Alpha, Beaty, and
Coral perform as part of the Chorus, but also in their mordant exchanges and
their mocking audio-descriptions.
Truth emerges from the acute observation of our own
performance that shapes and reshapes social norms, roles, and expectations.
None clearer than in the moment when the actresses watch the audience and the
audience watches them. The veil of lies is torn. We are amused, intrigued, and
uncomfortable at looking at someone looking straight at us. They are no longer
the Other. They affirm their own self. As they put it, ‘Handicaps are a health
and safety risk,’ we risk our comforting narratives that keep us ‘healthy and
safe’ by hiding sorrow, pain, and difference, but also the truth of the human
condition. Peeling lets us drop our masks and glimpse truth.
The Young
Artist’s Festival (YAF) is a week-long, annual event run by The Other Room,
Cardiff’s only pub theatre. For the festival, the theatre invites between 35-50
participants from Wales’ emerging creative scene into their doors to gain
invaluable experience working with their peers.
The
initiative is open to actors, writers, directors and stage managers and aims to
provide an opportunity to explore their chosen discipline, encourage
collaboration and artistic risk-taking. The participants are shown the value of
hard work with an intense, but rewarding, week. They’re given the opportunity
to work with new, contemporary work. But the ultimate aim is for participants
to gain confidence, grow and keep creating beyond YAF.
The week
starts with various workshops and talks from The Other Room’s staff and
industry professionals from a broad range of backgrounds. These workshops
include casting, starting and maintaining a company, arts council applications,
marketing, community theatre as well as sessions for skill-sharing and
networking. They also have specific workshops within their respective
disciplines with industry professionals.
The participants are then introduced to their companies, comprised of a group of actors, one director and one writer, and start working towards their end-of-week goals. Actors and directors present a performance of a given commissioned script and a dramatic rehearsed reading of their writer’s script. Writers write that ten-minute play whilst stage managers make it all happen.
Actors
The actors workshop this year was with Keiron Self and had a
specific focus on how an actor interprets text. The actors from YAF tell me
this was vital for the short rehearsal period they had. You don’t have long to
get to know your character, and it’s especially important in shorter pieces
where characters rely more on performance for characterisation.
Once the actors are in the
rehearsal room they have a couple of days to get off book before their first
performance. Something some saw as a somewhat daunting task, having never done
it in such a short space of time before. However, they realise it’s perfectly
possible and that the experience is vital for them moving forward. Especially
when preparing for auditions or working in the fringe environment where time to
learn lines is limited.
The performances at the end of the week come and go, but it’s
really about the experience of the week, of putting yourself out there and on
stage that seems to last beyond the week for the actors.
Directors
The directors had a workshop with Simon Harris, who focused
on doing text work before rehearsals and working with new writing. The
directors tell me this was great experience going in. Often their teaching has
focused on working in the room and once again, the workshop complimented the
direction process for the week.
The directors also have a production meeting with stage
managers where they set out their vision and discuss the possibilities. This is
something few of the directors had done before and again, it’s something that
really helps with their personal growth.
Directors also expressed the experience of being able to work
with a writer and have them in the room. Directing for rehearsed reading is something
that kept coming up also. Directing with a specific focus on displaying the
writing, which is different from directing the commissioned piece. Directing
both during the week is a valuable experience to take away.
The trust and support given to directors to control not one,
but two pieces of theatre, be placed in a room full of actors and deliver their
own vision is something the directors also spoke highly of. The support from
The Other Room’s artistic director Dan Jones and YAF producer Claire Bottomly was
a big part of the director’s experience.
Stage
Managers
As previously mentioned, the directors and stage managers
have a production meeting near the start of the week. For the stage managers
this is something none of them had done in this way before and is extremely
helpful moving into YAF.
The stage managers are very hands-on during the week. With the
support of a professional stage manager, in 2019 being Kristian Rhodes, they
effectively make the shows happen. Bringing the director’s visions to life by
sorting set, sourcing props and arranging lighting and sound. They’re present
in some of the rehearsal process and get to tech a run of the final
performances.
Overall, the experience is positive for the stage managers.
They’re constantly busy and feel like they’re just on the job. But, crucially,
have that support from a senior stage manager and The Other Room staff.
Writers
The writers start their week in a writing workshop with a
professional playwright. This year, and the year I did it in 2017, it was with
Matthew Bulgo. Bulgo is an excellent playwright and I can say from experience, very
good at leading a workshop. He focuses this one on structure and writing for
short-form, which is key for the week moving forward. All writers expressed how
helpful this was on many levels.
Bulgo also returns to offer feedback, which is also offered
by The Other Room’s staff throughout the week.
The writers spend the first half of the festival writing a
ten-minute play. Something that sounds quite scary at first, but from watching
the scripts performed at the end, easily possible to a good standard.
Writers then go into the rehearsal room on the Friday and Saturday
to see their scripts rehearsed. This is a new experience for some, as is what
happens in the afternoon on the Saturday when their scripts are performed in a
dramatic rehearsed reading.
The writers seem to be the most stressed during the week, but as a result the most relieved and happiest at the end when they see their work. It’s an intense but rewarding week and in some cases the writers take their scripts and develop them further.
Speaking to participants from all disciplines, it’s clear
they’re there for similar reasons. To make connections and friends, learn,
explore, grow, reignite a passion, re-motivate, progress ideas, bounce off
others, practice professionalism and a collaborative process in a supportive
environment.
By the end it’s clear the week has been valuable, often in
more ways than they realise. It gives participants a sense of pride if they
need it or helps to ground them if they’re more critical. To realise that not
everything has to be a masterpiece, and anything produced within a week won’t
be perfect. But that it can be done. It shows them that this can be done and
all it takes is a bit of hard work and the knowledge, which YAF provides, to do
it.
When I did the Young Artists Festival in 2017, it didn’t seem
much different. The main difference is it seems more focused on creating an
environment of collaboration. Not that it wasn’t there in 2017. It’s hard to
really progress YAF every year, because it’s always been a really great week
for anyone involved. They’ve always been aware that people are different and
always tried to cater to everyone, making young artists feel comfortable in an
environment that, for many, is fairly alien – the world of professional theatre
making.
It is with trepidation that I venture in writing a review of my first ever contemporary dance show, Awakening, a three-piece programme produced by National Dance Company Wales. All the three dance pieces have a distinctive style, show a desire to engage with ideas, and are executed skilfully. Watching the show was an interesting experience that left me intrigued, puzzled, and annoyed. I was intrigued by the attempt at using movement to convey visual effects, puzzled by the overall concern for concept, too often fuzzy, to the detriment of emotion, and annoyed at the diminished role of music, especially in the first two pieces, which but conveys a dystopian atmosphere, instead of being integral part of the performance.
The first piece, Tundra, begins with a captivating image of a dancer in a cone-shaped costume in a red light and an otherworldly voice. The stage is plunged into the dark and the figure disappears. As the stage is lit again by a white light, a group of dancers in white and blue cone-shaped costumes appear. They move together as a group and glide beautifully across the floor. This is perhaps the most striking part of Tundra, albeit relatively short by comparison with the main part of the piece, which consists of dancers in a colourful costume moving together as one. Their legs and arms touch to form one continuous shape and move on the stage like a snake. The choreographer, Marcos Morau, found inspiration in Russian folk music and dance, yet the cone-dress seemed much closer to the Korean traditional dress, while the main ‘snake-like’ performance reminded me of the Chinese dragon dance. The performance is smooth and elegant but the parts are disjointed and the music fails to convey any emotion.
Tundra is followed by Afterimage by choreographer Fernando Melo. The piece plays cleverly with mirrors and light to create the illusion of figures appearing and fading away like ghosts. The illusion effects are inspired by the technique of Henry Dircks and John Henry Pepper, which used light and glass to create ghostly appearances. In Afterimage, the dancers dissolve, often into one another, through multiple reflections. The piece is an exploration of different perspectives that never meet. It is well crafted, interesting, and performed gracefully; yet it feels too concerned with a visual effect conveyed through movement rather than dance. Like Tundra, it is too conceptual to convey emotion, and not aided by the dystopian music.
After the second interval, two women came and sat next to me. They could not make anything out of the first two pieces, ‘too symbolical,’ one said; yet they were enthusiastic about the third piece, the Revellers’ Mass. It is easy to see why. The Revellers’ Mass has a narrative, elaborate costumes, prominent music, and a tinge of humour. The piece begins with a male voice speaking Georgian and a priest lighting candles on a long flat surface. The sacred is alternated with the profane. The flat surface becomes a table and the sacred atmosphere turns into a wild party. At one point, the dancers at the table are reminiscent of the Last Supper, yet the reference serves little purpose and is a far cry from the biting irony of the Last Supper in Louis Bunuel’s Viridiana.Choreographer Caroline Finn is perhaps overambitious in seeking to capture ‘ritual and etiquette, and ceremony, as well as primal human behaviour.’ The conflation of ritual, etiquette, and ceremony is irksome and the contrast with partying as ‘primal human behaviour’ highly problematic. Revellers’ Mass is nevertheless entertaining and ends humorously with drunken revellers being dragged across the floor to the notes of Edith Piaf’s Je ne regrette rien.
As a novice, Awakening has been an interesting and thought-provoking experience. I acknowledge my preference for emotional engagement when it comes to all art forms; yet the three dance pieces have opened a door to a way of experiencing art that has left me curious notwithstanding the frustration. The show has perhaps succeeded in raising questions, the most important of which might be ‘does art need emotion to be art?’
As part of the Professional Pathways Programme at The Other
Room, trainee director, Samantha Jones, and trainee producer, Yasmin Williams,
are presenting their showcase production, Crave by Sarah Kane.
I met up with them to chat about it before the run started which you can read HERE to find out more about the production process and the Professional Pathways Programme.
The Other Room opened in 2015 with Blasted, Sarah Kane’s first play. Fitting then that Jones and
Williams chose Crave which was a
turning point in Sarah Kane’s career. Both in her artistic style and her
critical reception.
It’s a turning point in their own careers and Sarah Kane has
always felt somewhat connected to The Other Room. A theatre that allows young
artists to take bold steps, as Kane was allowed to do by The Royal Court. That
is exactly what taking on Crave is
for Jones and Williams. A bold statement of, “this is what we can do.”
The writing is obviously excellent, and not really up for
review as such here. But it is worth saying, you won’t see many plays more real
and brilliantly written than this in your life. Almost every line is crucial
and despite running at 45-minutes, there are brilliant plays twice as long with
half the content. It truly is a masterpiece.
That said, the script can’t do the work on its own. If the
artists involved don’t rise to the challenge, the play will fail. Don’t be fooled,
the script is great but not an easy one to direct or act. It won’t carry itself
and is open to interpretation. With no vision, it’s just a bunch of words. Kane
makes those involved work for its brilliance. She wrote Crave for directorial interpretation, to be explored and played
with. This is exactly why Samantha Jones and Yasmin Williams chose it for their
showcase production.
As it is, the artists involved relish and rise to the challenge brilliantly.
Samantha Jones’ direction is sublime. Close attention is paid
to rhythm which highlights the script’s strengths. The tone is handled really
well helping Jones control the pace, which is done beautifully.
The decision to perform in traverse is a great one, not
allowing the actors anywhere to hide. Sometimes Crave is performed quite statically which really doesn’t seem to
work. Jones, however, brings the play to life with excellent physicality,
making the most of the small space. The playis breathing and vibrant in its direction, which compliments Crave perfectly.
All four performances are excellent. Its hard to pinpoint one as a standout as they all work well as an ensemble and stand-out as individuals. As the production is in collaboration with Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, all four actors are second year acting students and they do their college proud in this production.
Emily John explores her character and it really feels as we
get to know her throughout the play. She feels both strong and vulnerable at
the same time which is really powerful.
Callum Howells brings natural charm and humour to his role. His
character, A, is completely unaware of himself in a beautiful and disturbing
way, depending on the context. Not distracting from the production’s dark tones,
rather offering a break from it. His delivery of ‘that’ monologue is simply magnificent.
Johnna Dias-Watson feels ever-present in the production. Her
care in physicality stands out and you always feel her presence because of it,
and when you don’t, there’s a reason why. Playing a ‘mother’ figure, this works
perfectly.
Benjamin McCann also brings some humour to the production, but his character is much more aware of himself than Howells as A. His delivery towards the end of the play is particularly good. He feels natural and I have to say I personally resonated most with him.
Zoe Brennan and Mimi Donaldson’s set design is lovely. Creating a claustrophobic feeling in the traverse set-up which allows space for the direction and acting to flourish. The lighting from Ryan Joseph Stafford is mystic and minimal, setting the mood well. Joshua Bowles’ sound design creeps through, mostly subtly, yet obvious in moments. None of the design is complicated but compliments the production allowing the play to flourish.
Crave at The
Other Room is an excellent production of Sarah Kane’s masterpiece exploring
what it is to love.
Ultimately, this production is very hard to put into words. I
left the theatre and felt completely different for two days. Even writing now, I
just don’t have the words to justify my feelings. It is a compliment to Kane’s
excellent writing, but the job of Yasmin Williams and Samantha Jones is to make
this play speak as loudly as it can. They have done that extremely well and
deserve the credit for what they achieved with Kane’s work.
Crave by Sarah Kane at The Other Room, Cardiff 30th April – 11th May 2019 Directed by Samantha Jones Produced by Yasmin Williams Starring: C – Emily John M – Johnna Dias-Watson B – Benjamin McCann A – Callum Howells Set Designed by Zoe Brennan and Mimi Donaldson Sound Designed by Joshua Bowles Lighting Designed by Ryan Joseph Stafford Stage Managed by Millie McElhinney Deputy Stage Managed by Emily Behague Assistant Directed by Nerida Bradley
‘If I Can Shoot Rabbits, I Can Shoot Fascists,’ is the strapline of the first play by PowderHouse in association with the Sherman Theatre and Theatr Genedlaethol Cymru. It comes from the Manic Street Preachers’ song ‘If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next,’
This in turn is inspired by the involvement of Welsh volunteers in the Spanish Civil War. The play Shooting Rabbits seeks to evoke the experience of a young Welshman travelling to Spain to fight against fascism in the 1930s while seemingly hinting at a similarity between fighting the authoritarian oppressor in Spain and the strife of Irish, Welsh, and Basque nationalism, given a new life by Brexit. Such an unwieldy subject matter could only fail on stage, especially when it is conveyed through a stream of consciousness dramaturgy that leaves the audience confused. Nonetheless the play succeeds in capturing the ambiguity of any proclamation in the name of ‘the people.’
Production Images credit Studio Cano
Shooting Rabbits co-directed by Jac Ifan Moore and Chelsey Gillard begins with a Northern Irish actor auditioning for a role in Wales. The casting director asks him to do a ‘more Irish’ accent, meaning one that is from the Republic of Ireland. The director expresses sympathy with the Irish, ‘Solidarity with you,’‘Wales stands with you,’ ‘Your people.’ The ‘solidarity’ is borne of the alleged ‘shared struggle’ against the ‘neighbours across the borders.’ The actor, played by Neil McWilliams, launches into a tirade questioning the very premise of ‘the people.’ Who are his people? Republicans, Nationalists, the IRA, Unionists, the DUP? The reduction of the heterogeneous reality of a country to one group betrays not just an ignorant and condescending attitude, but one that delegitimises whoever does not fit the image of the country, a country that is always an ideal, never a complex reality. This is nowhere more evident than in the impassioned and seductive speech of Francisco Franco performed by Alejandra Barcelar Pereira in Spanish. It appeals to the defence of the country and faith in the country, but it is a country that repudiates all those who do not abide by the script.
The appeal to ‘the people’ is a dangerous weapon that is wielded against the very people it professes to protect. ‘The people’ erases people as a heterogeneous empirical reality, disregards and delegitimises theirs diversity, their different perspectives, lifestyles, values, customs, and, above all, their overlapping identities. This is what the European Union aims to promote: unity in diversity. That is why Catalan, Basque, Scottish, and Welsh nationalist movements, to name a few, are often supportive of the EU. Thus, the EU does indeed undermine the nation state, conceived as a unitary and homogeneous entity, by giving voice to communities inside nations and across them. Today, the EU is embattled, but the crisis is not a battle between fascism and liberal democracy; rather it is more the result of established structures and politics being out of step with contemporary society and economics. That is why it is risky to draw any comparisons between today’s crises and the 1930s, as Shooting Rabbits seeks to do.
Shooting Rabbits is at its best when it exposes the naivete of the romantic ideal of fighting against fascism and of claiming to represent a ‘people.’ The young Welshman in 1930s Spain does not know what to do and begs to be told what to do. In front of the horror of the civil war, the volunteers of the International Brigade repeat that it was not meant to be this way. The play makes fun of political divisions and polarisations that create enemies. It is evocative and exhilarating. It is acted beautifully in Spanish, Basque, Welsh, and English by Alejandra Barcelar Pereira, Gwenllian Higginson, and Neil McWilliams, and it is supported by the music performed live by Sam Humphreys. It is also a missed opportunity. Shooting Rabbits flounders due to a superficial historical analysis and a stream of consciousness structure that disorients the spectator instead of bringing clarity.
Calendar Girls, The Musical by Gary Barlow and Tim Firth is currently playing at The Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff. This production isn’t just about women stripping for a calendar, it’s about sisterhood, it’s about friendship, and it’s about togetherness.
I personally need to demolish the idea that these shows that include characters taking their clothes off are just about stripping. Like the Full Monty, both stories are heavily embedded with political, moral and general life issues. But with that in mind, this play is definitely targeted towards an older audience. This is obviously due to the fact that the characters involved are older women who are part of a Womens Institute and this show has very little movement throughout the whole show. In fact, I was one of the few youngest people in the audience but there were some things I can take away from this show.
To start with this show is set in Yorkshire with the staging reflecting Yorkshire countryside with hills in the background. This set didn’t change much throughout the show which did cause some confusion. Obviously, it is supposed to be set in the countryside but without the set changing, the cast put chairs on the stage to represent the Womens Institute meeting room so to the audience it looked as if these women were meeting in the middle of a field.
They could have done with a small build on the stage of a meeting room or something similar, as a lot of the story took place in this hall. I believe that this show would work perfectly in a more intimate venue such as the New Theatre. Personally, I have an issue when there are raised platforms on the stage in musicals as the audience are already looking up to the stage and so putting the cast even higher up is often unnecessary also the actually raised pillars are often left undecorated which becomes an eye-sore. All of this show took place on a raised stage and it was never really explained, in terms of the story, what the lower part of the stage was supposed to be.
Unfortunately it was very obvious to the audience that this was Calendars Girls opening night as many small things went wrong during this production. Firstly, towards the end of act one, there is a scene in which Ruth, played by Julia Hills, carries a huge box of scones to the spring fair. Many of the scones actually fell out of the box and onto the floor which meant the other cast members had to pick them up. This was a distraction from the plot which wasn’t particularly needed also in this same act in a scene the spotlight started, almost randomly racing across the top of the stage which again distracted the audience from the story. I think through we can accredit this to opening night nerves which is understandable and also they were only tiny errors.
This show was supposed to be and is a very relatable show. In my opinion, the whole premise of the show is to empower the audience by showing a group of normal everyday women who grow in confidence to create the calendar. With this is in mind, the play was designed in such a way to make this concept as obvious as possible. The cast was not meant to be fantastic singers or incredible dancers, there were very few staging or props and the dialogue was done in a type of conversational speech that people would recognise. For the audience, the cast was supposed to be just like them and if they can feel empowered so can they. This effect was only added to by the inclusion of a Danny, played by Danny Howker, who is a teenage boy. I, also as a teenage boy, found it really easy to relate to Danny, Especially in the scene in which he appears drunk. When everyone first drinks alcohol they do go overboard which is exactly what this character did. So not only were there characters that the older generation to relate to but also the younger generation. This worked perfectly for relatability but meant that some number were lacking. In Act Two there is a really funny song titled “I’ve Had a Little Work Done” which is sung by Celia, played by Lisa Maxwell, which is written as a typical musical number which should have been a big chorus number with a chorus line but it did not. I do understand why they didn’t include all this (to keep the relatability of the musical) but it meant this number fell a little short of what it seemed to want to do.
Despite all this when the entire company came together for songs such as “Yorkshire” and “Sunflowers of Yorkshire” they were amazing. Their voices complemented one another and the harmonies were incredible. It was just in some individual solos that the nerves could be seen. This supports the idea that the play is all about friendship. On our own, we may struggle but together we are stronger. This musical was really funny and made everyone feel good about them by specifically empowering the older women in the audience. In Act One the song “Who Wants a Silent Night?” sung by Marie, Judy Holt was really entertaining and fun. This song made the whole audience want to get up and dance. This was a continuous thing through the whole musical; the cast appeared to have a lot of fun on the stage which made it a lot more enjoyable to watch. A highlight of the entire musical was Jessie, played by Lesley Joseph and her song “What Age Expects” this was a relatable, heartfelt and at times comical song that Lesley performed perfectly.
In General, Calendar Girls was an uplifting musical that had the audience laughing for the majority of the songs. I, however, may have missed aspects of the show due to my age but there was defiantly some elements of the characters that I associated with.
The set design may be far more sedate than in her last
production, Home, I’m Darling. But
the cast assembled by director Tamara Harvey for her latest offering Orpheus
Descending spark off one another with electrifying chemistry. One
wonders what she does during the rehearsal process that nurtures such strong
unity among cast members, and produces such creative energy that then flows out
on stage, with amazing results.
Tamara Harvey
In this adaptation of one of Tennessee Williams’ lesser-known
plays, Lady and Val might be advertised as the two main characters. But it is
very much an ensemble piece, with the most absorbing scenes being those in
which a whole host of players feature. Spread across the stage, the dialogue
zips from one to another, bouncing around like an entertaining ball game. The
script is so sharp and punchy. And the dialect coaching given by Penny Dyer and
Nick Trumble only enhances it further. It makes for a very immersive play – the
protrusion of the stage to the front row, and the use of the aisles either side
of the auditorium, intensifying this experience.
Not to say that there aren’t some amazing individual
performances however. Laura Jane Matthewson brings such a delightful humour to
her character Dolly Hamma that her mere presence on stage brought a smile to my
face. Seth Numrich’s turn as traveller and musician Val is full of charisma. His
guitar skills might not be up there with Val’s hero Lead Belly, but Numrich nevertheless
has the unenviable ability to own a stage without ever overshadowing his fellow
cast members. He is an excellent match for Hattie Morahan, playing opposite him
as Lady. Morahan brings a powerful sense of independence to the role that is
both frustrated by her marriage to Jabe (Mark Meadows) and teased out through
her developing romance with Val. Morahan’s performance grows steadily
throughout the play, becoming one that, in many ways, defines the second half.
I reserve special praise for Jemima Rooper, who is nothing
short of excellent as Carol Cutrere. The rebel, the rouser; the misfit and the
mistress in this portrait of small-town life, Cutrere is such a fascinating
character. She is made so by Rooper, who grants her such a vast expanse of unashamed
openness that I could only wonder at how Rooper manages to retain a slight air
of mystery about her. Yet she does, in spite of her character’s exhibitionism;
there remains a hidden depth to her even as her vulnerability and brokenness are
so apparent. If Morahan is the star of the second half, Rooper is most
certainly the star of the first.
Tamara Harvey’s production makes you wonder why Orpheus Descending has not been produced
more regularly. It is perhaps because Harvey has the ability to nurture, and
the skill to mine, the best of performances from her actors. In other hands,
perhaps it would not be as gripping or as interesting. But it is here, largely
because of the evident chemistry that exists between the cast members. One can
only credit Harvey with developing that. And it is this which draws out the
extra quality that sees such great individual performances, which combine
beautifully to create such an excellent overall production.
Hosting a monthly comedy act with niche and alternative themes – dipping into the historical with Mata Hari’s harem and Franco’s dictatorship – Hoodenanny is a small club that’s sure to leave a big impression.
Sticking loosely to the theme with Flora Wheeler’s performance as Mata Hari and Emily Smith’s Marlene Deitrich, we were ushered in from the cosy but characteristically costly pub (with event tickets themselves a bargain £3, or £6 for VIP gifts shown below) we were then ushered into a cutting and chaotic night of burlesque and comedy.
The VIP goodies, inside and out
Aaron Hood, founder and MC, was impeccable at compering the night, managing to both steer and steal the show without taking away from any of his performers. Using the clown horn he was so besotted with, Hood ushered us in to the themes of debauchery, mental illness and dark humor that weaved through most of the performers on the night.
As much as his cynical wit landed with razor sharp precision, Hood deserves to be commended for his organisation and dedication. Not only is he a well established member of UEA’s own Headlights comedy club, but he’s fully comitted to his vision of alternative comedy.
“A safe and friendly space for edgeiness.”
At the time of reviewing, he’s also creating a Fringe showcase in Bury St Edmunds. This is a man with too much frantic talent to waste.
First up on the roster was Sussana T Jones, well known throughout Norwich as the singing comedian who’s appeared as up and coming talent on BBC Radio and Director of UEA’S side-splittingly Silly “Game of Thrones: The Pantomime.”
She started with her staple routine, singing a parody of teenage youtube musicians called “My eyeliner.”
Then she brought out a new song especially for the night – about dating as a nerd. Filled with zany puns and enough references to stuff a TARDIS, this was a great start to the night. It provided an odd proto-breather for the heavier – but slightly sharper material – to follow.
Helen of Norwich and Aaron Hood
Second up was Helen of Norwich, who opened her set with some deadpan comments about her age.
Despite her self deprecation, she brought the audience immediately on board. She deployed her experience with the NHS and CBT – though not quite the type we were expecting, and thrived on a comedic style that was personally honest but full of comedic midirection.
Her nervousness was at times palpable – fitting for a set based on anxiety – but her minor struggle with confidence in no way undermined her as a performer. Her understated brand of subtle but sparkling dark humor held its own amongst much louder and more acerbic comedians. This proves she’s a comedian to watch out for.
Ciara Jack also based her set around mental illness, but expanded politically to joke about immigration on class. A lovably brash performer, she shone when using characters and impressions.
Pope Lonergan was a stand out of the night. A booming comedian with riotous jokes, he sealed and intensified the theme of dark humor. Again drawing on incredible personal anecdotes – how did he get to them, let alone survive the tale? – His anarchic sincerity was a real delight. He also posed a question that will now stay on Norwich’s lips forever.
“What would YOU do if you broke a woodlouse’s pregnancy sack?”
A night of big questions Indeed.
The evening ended on a high note with a burlesque performance by Zinnia Rose, who captivated the audience with sultry dance moves to Beyonce and Shakira’s beautiful night. Despite being referenced consistently, I felt this act might have felt more cohesive if the Mata Hari theme was expanded throughout the night.
However, the sacrifice of theme did nothing to hinder such a brilliant night – and the upcoming theme, “Austistic Anarchy” seems much more likely to be woven throughout the night. (With many of the club’s performers having autism themselves and referencing it in their sets.)
Overall this was a truly dynamic night and has established Hoodenanny as an almost unrivaled gem in Norwich’s comedy crown. With an inclusive and energetic vibe, performers with great careers ahead and all for less than a pint at the bar, I’d encourage everyone to make the trip down and have a hoot at Hoodenanny.
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw
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