Showing posts with label new play. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new play. Show all posts

Friday, 31 July 2009

'jerusalem' by jez butterworth (w. mark rylance)


JERWOOD THEATRE DOWNSTAIRS

The Royal Court Theatre presents...

Jerusalem

Written by Jez Butterworth

10 Jul - 15 Aug

"My dad said he jumped buses. Horseboxes. Jumped an aqueduct once. He was gonna jump Stonehenge but the council put a stop to it."

On St George's Day, the morning of the local county fair, Johnny Byron, local waster and modern day Pied Piper, is a wanted man. The council officials want to serve him an eviction notice, his children want their dad to take them to the fair, Troy Whitworth wants to give him a serious kicking and a motley crew of mates want his ample supply of drugs and alcohol.

Jez Butterworth's new play is a comic, contemporary vision of life in our green and pleasant land. His previous plays for the Royal Court include The Winterling, The Night Heron andMojo.

Director Ian Rickson
Designer Ultz
Lighting
Mimi Jordan Sherin

Sound Ian Dickinson for Autograph
Composer
Stephen Warbeck

Cast includes Jessica Barden, Tom Brooke, Greg Burridge, Lewis Coppen, Mackenzie Crook, Alan David, Aimeé-Ffion Edwards, Lenny Harvey, Gerard Horan, Danny Kirrane, Charlotte Mills, Lucy Montgomery, Sarah Moyle, Dan Poole, Harvey Robinson, Mark Rylance, Barry Sloane

Running time 3hrs 10mins approx, including 2 intervals

We walk in to see a fire curtain showing a faded grubby St George's cross.

A strip of real park turf along the front littered with beer cars Vodka bottles and plastic bags. A couple of stumps - an empty beer glass on one - and a tin water tank.

Or the left a pile of firewood - its neatness in incongruous contrast to the dirty mess around it. and beside it an abandoned old car seat

Vaughan Williams’ 'The Lark Ascending' swells and soars.

The smell of smoke.

15 year old Phaedre comes on dressed as a fairy and sings 2 verses of Jerusalem before being drowned out by loud pounding rock music

The Curtain rises on a party in full swing seen through strobe lighting.

Blackout

Lights up bright on two community liaison officers official in safety yellow waistcoats surveying the debris and then serving eviction notice from the Council on Rooster and his old silver metal Waterloo caravan. This despite the amplified dog noises Rooster is yelling through his loud hailer

From the first moment of his entrance we are held mesmerised watching him cast his spells over his court of motley youngsters left over from the party - and Ginger who has managed to miss it -and then the locals who are pulled in to his rubbishy drug & alcohol banked camp: the local professor who will wander through and enjoy the Fair day in their company tripping on the acid tabs they've slipped him; the landlord of Cooper 's pub festooned in full Morris Dancer bells and handkerchiefs for the village Fair and who needs to get high for the day to do it; the local bully boy looking for his missing daughter - the 15yr old Phaedre - and promising violence when he finds her.

And Rooster drinks and charms and swaggers and spins his yarns and weaves his magic on us all.

The second act reminds even move of a modern day Falstaff, enveloping his followers with tales of daring and fairytale and drugs and alcohol.

Then the arrival of a little boy Markey - Rooster's son - in place of the giant that might have been summoned by the drum - and his mother who is still caught in her appetite for Rooster and for his whizz despite now having a new man waiting.

Then the third act with the inevitable ostracising and street justice for Rooster before he is left to meet the official justice of the evicting bulldozer, bloodied, branded but defiantly unbowed.

The girls are vacuous and more thinly drawn than the boys and this is very much a play about men with no interest in the women beyond their relations with the main man Rooster and sometimes to other men. Ah me, it was ever thus but this is a frustrating weakness in a play called 'Jerusalem' and aspiring to give us an updated portrayal of England's pleasant pastures green turned unholy in small town small scale corruption. And while it is very funny, a number of the laughs sounded brutal to me - more the collusion of a mob at an easy weakling than the delighted sparkle of sprung enlightenment.

There is nothing especially new in this story. But it's enormous charisma and potency comes from the writing and performance of Johnny "Rooster" Byron. Mark Rylance shows us a man who is mesmerising complex funny frightened fantastical and fierce. He is Falstaff in all his vainglorious boasting, he is Don Juan purring the women into helpless devotion, he is Don Quixote tilting at windmills, the misunderstood outsider, the sensitive friend, the disgusting drunk, the mischievous prankster, the amoral dealer and the brawling thug.

And throughout this three+ hours the balance is held dangerously tight between a recognisably malevolent reality of small town low life and an heroic poetic sweep of the noble epic - pitching the misunderstood and much maligned hero against a world of contemporary monsters.

Great theatre.

So long as you don’t care about the invisibility of the women.



Thursday, 18 June 2009

'Kursk' (Sound&Fury) @ Young Vic

A Young Vic and Fuel co-production, Sound&Fury's

Kursk

In collaboration with Bryony Lavery   

Commissioned by the Junction, Cambridge

3 June - 27 June 2009

A powerful  theatrical experience inspired by the Russian submarine disaster of August 2000.

A submarine is on patrol in the arctic. The crew sleep, eat, drill, long for word from home, and silently shadow their target. Their lives, at once extraordinary and mundane, are shattered by a global crisis from which uniquely personal stories emerge.


Cutting edge theatre company Sound&Fury (
The Watery Part of the World) join Bryony Lavery (Frozen) to imagine the life of submariners, deep below the icy seas on the fraying front line of the cold war.

http://www.soundandfury.org.uk/


We walk in upstairs on to a metal walkway galley, looking down into low-light submarine spaces on raised platforms - (easily recognisable from films) - the technology of the bridge, the glowing screens of the control room, the captain's office, the mess, the head with a shower room and bunks. We have the choice of staying up and looking down on the action, or going down to experience it inside the space: after exploring downstairs we make the happy choice to watch from above and so avoid any of the claustrophobia panics i was steeling myself for.

We get a clearly told mostly unembellished telling of the sinking of the Kursk, Russia's state-of-the-art 21st century submarine from the viewpoint of a spying british sub crew who photograph her moments before the explosion that quickly sinks her. The secrecy of their presence prevents the captain from making any rescue attempt that would potentially set off an international furore. Inside this are the routines of submarine seamanship and the human back-stories of the crewmen.

There is much right with this show and it is pretty successful in its aim to avoid sensationalising the story - for me it was still over-acted and would have easily sustained a more neutral restrained portrayal of the men. This is banality made super-engaging because of the atmospheric danger of the space and the inherent suspense building out of the narrative of the mission. In fact the star of this show is the submarine environment and at every level: visually it is an easy leap of faith to believe we are inside the submarine; kinaesthetically we traded down a bit exchanging cramped and crowded disorientation for the air, distance and comfort of our upstairs position, which gave me the enjoyment of immersion simultaneously with awareness of being in a theatre. But it is the sound we are here for and the sonic dimension is the one that magics the space beyond the literal. I would have liked even more amplification to charge this up into an even more felt experience even at the expense of the accuracy Sound&Fury were wanting, and i would have liked a more constant sound so that even the silences were filled with the noise of submarine existence. But beyond these niggles there are some wonderful experiences inside this show. The atmospheric sounds are utterly convincing (to someone who can only imagine what a submarine is like from films) as are the dynamic sounds like the search (periscope) that we're pretty sure are on a soundscape the actors have had to learn to perform on cue to. The women's voices of wives and girlfriends arriving through the familygrams are scored together as music that counterpoints with the pop music loudspeakered into their before they are forced into stealth mission silence. It is the sounds that create the imagined real sense of the dives, the crash into a stray ship container, and the spooky threat of the unidentifiable tapping noise. All good and makes for highly believable and engaging docu-drama. The moments of exceptional experience come when the sounds are given centre stage: in a nearly complete blackout we hear sounds of water in an echoing chamber, people struggling to breathe, russian men talking - the sounds of the Kursk crewmen dying puts us inside this moment with them, first the emotions catch and tumble, then the mind whirls and stumbles, the breathing starts to race and just as I am feeling the panic of a breaching collision of sensations the lights return and the moment is left as an imprint. We could easily and potently sustained some time here in our own heads, watching the men routinely carry out their duties in a mute overlay of all that's been stopped in the Kursk. But the story in our sub continues and we are forced to surface to attend to the more immediate specifics of one man's tragedy - and in this we are given the space to bring our own sense in to mix with what we are watching.

This is a good show for us, and ready to be an exceptional one if it can have more development (although the men of Sound&Fury seem busy busy with other projects) now that its first five years of making have solved the problems of sightlines, design, soundscape and narrative accuracy. Waiting to be found now is the fine-tuning in the balance between elements to transcend a damn good docu-drama into a heightened theatre experience. For me the next work would be to tune down the acting into greyer performances, which the show can easily support, and tune up the sonics to make a more visceral experience.

Unless, of course, this is what the audience downstairs in the main submarine spaces are getting already, and we lost by swapping the intensity of being inside the story with the men for easier and more removed watching from above and outside? 


Sound & Fury is directed by Mark Espiner, Tom Espiner and Dan Jones. It draws on the disciplines of theatre, Foley artistry, sound design, music and storytelling. Its key artistic interest is in developing the sound space of theatre and presenting new ways of experiencing theatre and stories by heightening the aural sense. To achieve these aims, Sound & Fury has, in the past, boldly immersed its audience in total darkness. This unique theatrical device combined with sophisticated surround sound design, imaginative acoustic devices, voice and subtle lighting effects creates a powerful new language for theatre which has gained the attention and interest of the media, critics and - most importantly - a new audience. Their work has been twice selected for an Arts Council UK tour billed as the future of British theatre and has been included by the British Council in its group of touring companies. The Guardian has described their performance style as: “Total theatre that doesn't just happen all around you, but that swallows you up completely ... you feel as if you are experiencing the whole thing through your skin.”

 

From The Times

June 1, 2009

Theatrical realism in Kursk

The sinking of the Russian submarine Kursk has inspired a bold experiment in theatrical realism

 

Jasper Rees

Theatre is capable of taking its audience more or less anywhere merely through word and action and the odd prop. Even for the most imagination-stretching of art forms, however, life on board a submarine might be deemed a bridge too far. It’s been memorably done on film — the one that submariners all swear by is Das Boot rather than The Hunt for Red October. But how can theatre fully convey the cabin fever, the mental bends, the chronic uncertainty of the submerged life at sea?

Audiences for a new play at the Young Vic will be taking what is perhaps the first, and certainly the most realistic, theatrical dive to the ocean depths. Kursk takes place in the Maria, the box-like studio space where, as closely as possible, the interior of a hunter-killer submarine has been replicated in pipes, platforms, wires and blinking lights. Authenticity will be conveyed above all in the disembodied roar and hiss, growls and grunts both made and heard by the gigantic listening device that is a sub.

The title of the play gives at least some of the story away. It tells of the horrific death in 2000 of 118 Russian seamen aboard a stricken nuclear submarine in the Barents Sea. The majority of them died soon after an on-board explosion, but 23 survived in an airtight part of the cabin for several days while President Putin refused to let Nato come to the rescue.

The argument of the play is that Nato was very much in a position to help. The Russian Navy was testing new weapons systems and showing them off to the Chinese. At least two US submarines are known to have been watching closely. The supposition of Kursk is that a British submarine is also in the neighbourhood, and it is the one that picks up the aural evidence of distress. But as its commander of this sub (on which the play is set) says: “We’re an attack vessel, not a f***ing lifeboat.”

Kursk is a collaboration between the theatre company Sound & Fury, which specialises in surround-sound designs of cinematic scope, and the playwright Bryony Lavery. They were first teamed four years ago by a funding initiative that pairs young companies with established writers. Staging a submarine drama appealed to all. For Lavery the lure was “the claustrophobia of the space”. For Dan Jones, of Sound & Fury, it was putting on stage “the extraordinary mind game of submarining combined with the absurdity of the submariner’s domestic life: making tea alongside a nuclear reactor”.

For a while they toyed with setting the drama on the Kursk itself. The most bizarre ideas for realising the human tragedy were tested and discarded: the Kursk as a nightmare vision of Chekhovian stasis; the disaster as dramatised by clowns. “It became clear that normal life at sea is so extraordinary,” explains Mark Espiner, of Sound & Fury, “that we were going to miss a trick if we didn’t actually use that as a benchmark against which to set the disaster. There was the potential for voyeurism. Also, how are you ever actually going to get the idea of what the last 23 survivors of the Kursk were dealing with?”

Had a wackier idea prevailed, it’s very unlikely that the production would have had such enthusiastic support from the Royal Navy. Among the play’s consultants is the chairman of the international submariners association, who happened to meet the Kursk’s crew in St Petersburg not long before she sailed. A former Polaris commander who now runs the Royal Navy Submarine Museum in Gosport also advised, as did an ex-coxswain who was serving at the time of the disaster.

One adviser even ended up in the cast. Ian Ashpitel is a submariner turned actor who to this day lists reading Morse code at 25 words a minute on his CV. As a radio operator on a submarine at the height of the Cold War, he is full of tales of every hue: from breaking through the ice to play cricket at the North Pole to sneaking into Murmansk harbour to spy on a new Soviet aircraft carrier from ten metres under its keel. It may seem a strange career leap, but not to Ashpitel. “You don’t see daylight for 12 weeks and start doing things like putting raincoats on and umbrellas up, pretending it’s a rainy day. ‘Morning, terrible weather.’ Silly stuff. Watching TV programmes that aren’t there.” So it was but a step into the rehearsal room.

As part of their preparation, a visit to HMS Devonport was laid on. Jones took along his microphone to capture authentic sounds, while the five actors had a go on a simulator that fakes the sensation of a 60 degree dive. They also went aboard a real sub to get a feel for the actual cramped space. “It was like the first time you go to New York,” Lavery says. “You’ve seen it on film. It’s strangely alike but completely different”. For Ashpitel it was an unwelcome trip down memory lane. “I hadn’t been down one for 28 years and after ten minutes I thought: ‘I’ve got to get out of here’.”

The idea is to reproduce that oppressive intimacy. It’s a promenade production, so the audience will be able to wander under the conning tower and loiter outside the karzi. By coincidence, a full house will tally numerically with the hundred-plus seamen aboard a nuclear sub. Naturally there’s no interval. It will be a unique mark of the play’s success if by the end they are all desperate to get out.

Kursk previews at the Young Vic, London SE1 (020-7922 7922), from Wed and opens on June 8

 

Thursday, 1 January 2009

'August: Osage County' by Tracy Letts

August: Osage County
National Theatre presents Steppenwolf’s production
http://www.steppenwolf.org/

by Tracy Letts
Broadway's biggest hit comes to London for 8 weeks only.


-->Cast credits:
Little Charles :
Ian Barford
Steve Heidebrecht : Gary Cole
Violet Weston : Deanna Dunagan
Johnna Monevata : Kimberly Guerrero
Karen Weston : Mariann Mayberry
Barbara Fordham : Amy Morton
Ivy Weston : Sally Murphy
Charlie Aiken : Paul Vincent O'Connor
Bill Fordham : Jeff Perry
Jean Fordham : Molly Ranson
Mattie Fay Aiken : Rondi Reed
Beverly Weston : Chelcie Ross
Sheriff Deon Gilbeau : Troy West
Production credits:
Director: Anna D Shapiro
Set Designer: Todd Rosenthal
Costume Designer: Ana Kuzmanic
Lighting Designer: Ann G Wrightson
Music: David Singer
Fights: Chuck Coyl
Sound Designer:
Richard Woodbury
at Lyttleton, RNT


When the large Weston family unexpectedly reunites in Oklahoma, after their father disappears, their home explodes in a maelstrom of repressed truths and unsettling secrets. This new play unflinchingly – and uproariously – exposes the dark side of the Midwestern American family.
The internationally renowned Steppenwolf Company, last seen at the National Theatre with The Grapes of Wrath, returns to London with this Broadway smash-hit production, winner of the 2008 Tony Award and Pulitzer Prize for Best Play.


this is is a difficult show and a difficult show for me to chronicle my experience of: there is much to admire and it is completely engaging from start to finish, and yet i hung back through most of it, held firmly in place as a witness rather than being drawn in to the action or stirred emotionally at all by these people and their crashing stories. It is like watching a world - a microcosm of america we suppose - collapse in on itself. and finding it has no substance at its centre to either smash itself against or rekindle itself from, we watch it simply disappear into its own vacuum with less and less debris left behind to show what was once there.
one by one we watch each of the family members bring their own self-consumed versions of unhappy self-righteousness rage into the this claustrophobic house to thrash and wail about. None of them are entirely unlikeable, all are recognisable to us from our television and film stories and the constant ghosts of williams, albee, o'neil. Their stories, as in most families, are inescapably woven together in an increasingly mucky soup of interdependencies and stored up wrongs. And in this play it is the women who are shown to be the matter: Violet the drug addled matriarch, brewing her spells of vicious poisons around the rest of the family; her sister, Mattie Fay, stewing her own guilty secret into an unreasonably but determined rage at her bumbling son; Barbara, number one daughter, hissing her fury and hurt at not being able to keep intact the better family life she had thought to have determined for herself; Ivy, number two daughter, screeching and stamping and screening her independence into the most unholy of alliances with Little Charles; Karen, number three daughter, festooning her west coast foolishness as ludicrously brittle and transparent drapery to her repetitive victimhood; and Barbara's daughter, Jean, stoned and precociously unaffected, even by her own near rape. even Johnna, hired to be of service to family by the checking-out patriarch, while fulfilling her function with charm and efficiency, is unable to raise her own needs as a person above her need for a job.

so far so not so good but in a good way.

and the world we are shown is one where there are no longer any moral consequences - whatever people do, whatever rules, codes, behavioural ethics are trashed and transgressed, the only consequences that register are the immediately personal. so, Violet's drug-taking is only 'wrong' in the consequential effects this has on her behaviour (it's a joke she is able to blackmail doctors into writing her prescriptions); Ivy's incest is only 'wrong' when it has to be faced up to in conversation; 14 year old Jean's dope smoking goes uncensored; Bill's adultery is only measured in terms of the hurt it makes to Barbara and Jean; Steve's sexual harassment of Jean is allowed to go unchecked by police or any other possibility of retribution. this is a world where behaviour exists beyond or outside any moral coding, held up for notice or judgement only when and in terms of its infringement on what other people want or are stopped from having.

still so far so good - both as portrayal of the domestic secular story in our post-modern western world, as much as a dystopic state of the nation view of america.

but in this dissolute decaying fizzing petri dish of a species gone beyond its purpose or possibilities, the women are treated to the basest of cheap jokes and stereotypes. in a household of highly-read highly-educated people, we get the ghastly old horrors of 'you look like a lesbian', a medley of vagina-word sniggers (from the daughters); and barely more than a brief interruption in proceedings in response to Jean's molestation by the seedy Steve. and this is wrong in a very bad way. because i think for this show to matter beyond the moment of its happening in the theatre, we need to accept that these women are their own constructions made of and from themselves. just as we need to see their world as the mutually dependent dysfunctional system they have created for themselves (cf. albee's george and martha; cf. dysfunctional relationships we have known and watched ...), so too do we need to believe these women are self-made and self-perpetuated. and i do not: they are men in women's clothing. i think both watching it and now thinking back on it, i cannot accept these women as anything other than a man's creation, his pieces in an elaborate domestic computer game, where all the characters are inevitably variations of the creator.

and this is misogynism in a most destructively veiled way.

above and beyond this, the best of the show is the staging together with the acting which is fierce and forced through with an absolute intensity of single mindedness, so that all the characters arrive onstage fully fleshed. they then disappear from our view without carrying with them a hint of future story to wonder about: again like a computer game, they are all only manifest while they are deployed as competitors in action before us.

'this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but a whimper' (T.S. Eliot, The Wasteland)

Read an extract from the programme. http://www.nationaltheatre.org.uk/42706/programme-extracts/programme-extract-for-emaugust-osage-countyem.html

Read in the Guardian how August: Osage County will be made into a film by the Weinstein brothers. http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/nov/11/theatre-tracy-letts-august-osage-county-weinstein-company-broadway
Read Tracy Lett's interview in the Telegraph where he talks about his experience with August: Osage County. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/theatre/3563234/August-Osage-County%2C-the-first-great-American-play-of-the-century.html

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

'eating ice cream on gaza beach' by shelley silas @ soho theatre






'eating ice cream on gaza beach'
written by shelley silas
directed by anna niland
designed by anthony lamble
lighting by david kidd
projection designer john lloyd fillington


original music by reem kelani


assistant director prasanna puwanarah


Adrian ~ Christopher Sheridan
Rami ~ Oliver Hawes
Maryam ~ Bathsheba Piepe
Muz ~ Ciaran Owens
Ameena ~ Parissa Barghchi
Danny ~ David Mumeni
Ruthie ~ Laura Kiman
Shai ~ Mark Weinman
Officers ~ Obi Iwumene, Zakarya Kaye, Andrew Kaye
Ensemble ~ Tanya Cubric, Elizabeth Henstridge, Daniella Isaacs, Tyan Jones



national youth theatre
Season 2008 - Worlds Apart: global stories and home truths
http://www.nyt.org.uk/
soho theatre
http://www.sohotheatre.com/fromhomepage/pl1524.html

It's sixty years since Israeli independence. Good news for some, not good for others. While one side celebrates, the other mourns.
It's a scorching day on Gaza beach. Again.
From the Babylonians to the Greeks, the Romans, the French, the British, and now the Americans, this narrow stretch of land has been picked over by divide-and-ruling invaders throughout the whole of recorded history. It is the people on the ground who pay the price. It is the people on the sand this play is about.


We come into the theatre to find the entire cast on stage - backs mostly turned to us - still ... As the lights dim one of the actors makes the Muslim call to prayer...
An ice cream van that's seen better days turns repeatedly to evoke a checkpoint, a couple of different bedrooms, and an army office as well as Gaza beach itself.
A screen above will show fairly literal images linked with the action including various shots of Gaza beach, snapshots of Danny and his girlfriend as a happy couple, an orange sunset that could equally be pollution, and a couple of banksy images - the starbucks tank and the baby flying with balloons to illustrate Maryam's final acceptance of her son's death.
Throughout a chorus of veiled women provide a vocal, percussive and silently mimed back-story to the action of the story we get to watch.



The triumph of this play - writing and performances - is in giving us recognisable people we get time and space to get to know and care about:
Adrian "as in Mole?" the brit on a gap year, wondering what it was like for his grandfather who once fought here and determined to not take sides;
Rami the christian ice cream seller who tries so hard to stay away from protests as his way of standing up for what he believes in and because he can't believe they can achieve anything;
Muz (with distracting irish accent) full of righteous fury and pent up fervour for action;
Danny the reluctant israeli soldier forced to finish his term of military service at a checkpoint.
And as a result of finding and being with these people we are drawn in to want to know and -understand more about what is happening here - the political situation for once does not overwhelm the human stories. But at the same time we are given the complex complicated mess of things - there is no hint or pretence here of anything like an answer - just people being people in their different ways and in response to the situations they find themselves in - and not all of these are made by the war.

Lines that resound and remain for me:
"this is it for the rest of my life this is all I've got" Muz
"which would you choose if you had to - england or israel - your physical or your spiritual home?"
"i’m not on either side i’m on both sides i’m on the third side" Adrian
"Not acting is a choice - it's not doing nothing." Rami

This is a brave play honestly performed. I liked a lot that none of the characters are as straight forward and predictable as we might expect them to be: Danny the soldier of conscience nevertheless follows his orders; Rami is pulled away from his determined decision not to act and his own sense of responsibility by his sense of responsibility in the heat of the moment; Adrian forgets his neutrality and rushes headlong into battle; Maryam wishes for peace also finds herself taking action and joining the protest. People behaving like people - except in this place people being people can get killed.
And the brilliance of Shelley's play is she has made a true modern day tragedy: its outcome is both unacceptable and unavoidable - we hate what happens while believing utterly in its happening because none of these characters can feasibly do other than they do.

I was also hugely impressed with the intelligent feisty-ness of the young cast and the creators articulating their process making and performing of this play during the post show discussion - neither belligerent or aggressive unlike a couple of the questioners nearly were – nor in any way submissive about their choices and what they are doing.





'Telling a story of Gaza without preaching it' - 'Eating Ice-cream on Gaza Beach' brings a range of Palestinian and Israeli opinion to London audiences. By Olivia Snaije Special to The Daily Star Wednesday, August 27, 2008
http://www.dailystar.com.lb/article.asp?edition_id=1&categ_id=4&article_id=95435