May 2008 Archives

Good story, well told. That's it.

 

A sort of My Beautiful Laundrette for post-7/7 Britain, Cockeyed is a well constructed and engaging story. In this reading, it was passionately performed by an interesting cast, all with very different styles. The text was in turns funny and poignant, and deserves a full staging.

 

Richard Bevan, playwright, has written a play that fulfils many of the guiding tenets of modern British playwriting: a series of interlocking stories that come together in a semi-tragic, but still somewhat feel-good ending, drawing on contemporary politics, social issues and modes of communication to give it an edgy and relevant feel. The fact that it does little more than this would be its greatest fault. However, the script does not attempt to do anything necessarily new with the form of theatre, which in some ways is a bit of well deserved respite for audiences who are over-exposed to experimentation.

 

            Homosexuality and racism (very much in the tradition of the above mentioned My Beautiful Laundrette) are infused with a bit of scaremongering politics centred around terrorism and immigration; casual sex facilitated by the internet, and the inclusion of iPods, give this play a particularly recent feel. At its heart though it is simply a play about relationships, sex, infidelity and intimacy (and the lack of intimacy) that is made somewhat punchier with the inclusion of the storylines regarding racism (featuring the "UK League Party") and inter-racial relationships, heterosexual and homosexual.

 

            Sympathetically directed by Kfir Yefet, this mostly young cast all held themselves well. Moshana Khan (as Nasreem) as the undervalued wife of Najib (John Nayagam) was probably the most convincing and interesting actor, a position supported by the fact that her occasional full-lung screams were not cringe worthy. Isobel Pravda as Julie, the slightly mentally battered girlfriend of Baretta (a racist with issues about sexual identity) was also extremely watchable, but did not have a full enough role to really come into her own. Baretta, described as a powder keg of a 'wide-boy' at the outset, was probably the most ambiguous and rounded character (though hardly the most sympathetic); the performance by Nicholas Clarke was adequate but failed to find much more than the character presented.

 

            While this was a reading and not a staged performance, the lack of any physical portrayal of what we were seeing was frustrating. While I understand the limits of a reading, when a stage direction such as "They kiss" is completely ignored it really adds nothing to the performance. While it was clearly a decision made at the outset, and maintained throughout, it was somewhat annoying.

 

            This is a straightforward play. The contemporary elements are really just window dressing. It benefits from not making any overt political statements, but does have a clear message to tell (can't we all just get along?). Ultimately, though, it is a well told story by a talented writer which got a well deserved showing here. It should be fully staged, and a radical interpretation might bring a whole new aspect to this text. Not revolutionary, not experimental, but worth the watch.

 

 

- James Grogan.

Stories sung, wonders performed.

 

Café Antersia Ensemble performed a beautifully rendered piece of storytelling as part of The Accidental Festival 2008. Taking folk traditions from America, Greece, the Balkans and the Middle East and infusing them with performance gentle, intricate and intriguing, this understated show enthralled.

 

            The depth of tradition was palpable. Singing folk songs which feel Romanian, Greek or Balkan in English is a bold move, the closeness of meaning is somehow uncomfortable, but here it worked. Part opera, part folk concert, part performance art piece, this show kept us watching, kept us believing. The honesty of the stories ensured we stayed with the performance, stayed with the songs, and believed in their relevance.

 

            Ruth Margraff's playful innocence and joy in her toned and measured performance: throwing carelessly (and yet so very considered) peacock featured masks to the ground; more peacock features in a fan, fluted and gentle. Painting a child's painting with brushes dipped in beer, this subtly self-aware performance, innocent and shy in its own ways, really brought a whole new texture to this piece.

 

            One felt the need to be sat at a table in a country kitchen, or a darkened snug in some stonewalled pub in a blackness of a late summer's evening. Folk music's power to cross national and linguistic borders is well known, and the universality of this music and its setting was wonderful.

 

Nickos Brisco's compositions fused the Southern drawl of Americana, with the haunting rhythms of Greek and Balkan music. He spoke the language of folk in tones and textures. While sung in English (a strangely distancing language for folk music) the connectedness with an international aspect of the traveller meant that the tradition was upheld by this piece. As with the best of contemporary performance, this work worked from its tradition, while finding new articulations and ideas within it.

 

 

- James Grogan.

Admirable, subtle in turns, mechanical in others.

 

Issue based, or political, theatre has a problem. In a world where every action is recognised as political, politics, the media and cultural output start to resemble one another more and more. The political spectacle of parliament and the attempts of parliamentary parties to play the theatrical games that we have come to judge by has made the experience of going to a darkened space to engage with politics somewhat redundant. Given that, the challenge for any play which is self-consciously political (perhaps claiming resistance rather than subversion) is one most fail to live up to. And that's before you factor in apathy and the general suspicion of audiences who go to political theatre: they already agree, and so just presenting the argument is not quite enough.

 

            The War Zone Is In My Bed did an admirable job at dealing with these challenges. While perhaps polemic, the script was subtle and measured, finding real voices and telling compelling and intricate stories. Eschewing verbatim habits of layering stories that do not really fit together, the well crafted writing wove the threads of the story coherently and delicately.

 

            Unfortunately, the performance let the piece down. Neither honest nor interesting, it let the words fall lonely onto the stage, alone in their attempts to make themselves heard. The vocal tones were identical throughout, despite the multiple characters played by one woman - indeed, the writer - and the rhythms and cadences where monotonous and dull.

 

            The mechanical acting saw mechanical shifts between the characters. They were neither nuanced, well drawn or sustainable. The onslaught of text, which in the hands of another would have be rendered tender, moving even, left us with little more than a reading of the script would have.

 

            One audience member I spoke to afterward spoke of how distracting her hair was - styled as one might in London or New York, it did not befit the stories of a prostitute, an asylum seeker, and an abandoned wife. Of course, why shouldn't one have nice hair while performing a feminist piece of theatre, but contrariwise, should that be the thing we are concerned with during the performance?

 

            This performance was offered to no one, it was self-concerned, self-aware and self-conscious. With this script, that's a shame.

 

 

- James Grogan.

Excerpts from Quiche Lorraine with Parrot {in the} Tank, who will be taking Just Below The Above from the International Arts Theatre to Paradise Gardens at Victoria Park this Saturday 24th of May.




Quiche Lorraine: To begin with, just going round, do you prefer electricity or jazz?

Anisha Fields: If I had to live with one and without the other?

Q.L: I suppose so; I suppose that's what I'm asking.

Anisha: I think I'd rather live with electricity.

Eva Liparova: I'd say electricity as well, but maybe jazz at the weekends.

Anisha: Jazz can do my head in a little bit. Depends what kind of jazz.

Sam Bailey: Is it trad jazz, or step jazz...?

Q.L: It's how you interpret.

Eva: Inoffensive jazz isn't too bad.

Anisha: I like inoffensive jazz

Eva: Maybe in the evenings. You don't need that much electricity in the evenings.

Joe Connor: See I like moderately offensive jazz, just that kind of, "its really quite annoying but god dammit its foot stopping" so I'd probably say jazz. No, actually, electric jazz.

Anisha: It depends if its live jazz. If there's a live jazz band...

Sam: A group of people that follow you around...

Joe: Like minstrels.

Sam: Oh don't bring minstrels into it...

Sam: I think I'd go for jazz cos although electricity keeps you warm, jazz keeps you warmer.

Eva: Imagine there would be a jazz club right where people would go dancing every night and they would generate the electricity through the dancing.

Joe: You could attach a generator to the trombone player.

Anisha: That is some fiery jazz.

Anisha makes jazz sounds.

Q.L: The opposite way now. Where do babies come from?

Sam: Where do babies come from? I could go with the really obvious answer. The vagina, generally from the womb and they make there way down. I still like to think storks are involved, that they drop off babies.

Eva: I like that as well.

Joe: I like the idea of the magical combination of a testicle and an ovary.

Eva: That sounds horrible.

Joe: It's just really funny to have the adjective of magical combination of a testicle and an ovary.

Eva: Magical testicle, that sounds really horrible.

Joe: That's where babies come from.

Q.L: Eva?

Eva: I do think, however magical when two cells form a baby, I think that process of that transformation of cells into a human being is amazing, and I don't quite know where that energy comes from and it fascinates me.

Joe: A lot of thrusting.

Anisha: Jazz.

Joe: The miniature sperm jazz band.

Eva: Maybe they generate the electricity that creates life.

Anisha: If a sperm made sound do you think it would be jazz?

Joe: No I think it would be bleblableblalbebla!

Q.L: What's your answer? To where babies come from?

Anisha: I think I'm just gunna have to go with the general stork idea.

Eva: The knowledgeable one.

Anisha: Yes.

Q.L: Is anger ever necessary?

Anisha: In certain situations, I would say yes.

Eva: Like what?

Q.L: Like in the rehearsal room?

Anisha: Is it necessary in the rehearsal room?

Q.L: No, no, I was just trying to lead you into a journalistic kind of...didn't work.

Anisha: Oh I see. Possibly in the rehearsal room. Definitely in particular situations. Some people just need to be dealt with anger. I think, like when...

Q.L: You do know that's going to be the headline of this article now. That's the quote that defines this.

Anisha makes a face of turmoil.

Anisha: I stand by my earlier statement.

Eva: I don't think its necessary, I do think, going back to energy and electricity...

Joe sneezes very loud.

Sam: Oh my god.

Eva: That was quite an angry sneeze. I do think you can turn anger into creative energy and use it imaginatively to create...

Sam: ...babies.

Anisha: Jazz.

-----
Q.L: If you could describe yourselves as people who are 'riffing in the name of', what would you be riffing in the name of?

Joe: Riffing...in the name of...alloys...

Q.L: Thinking of yourselves as a jazz band now, who's playing the bass?

Sam: Who would be the stand up bassist?

Anisha: I think Charlotte Cassidy holds us up.

Joe: I think Cassidy would the bass because she keeps us...

Anisha: Solid.

Sam: Steady. On the even keel

Eva: Keeps the steady tone.

Sam: So that's Charlotte Cassidy.

Joe: I'm already shot gunning the jazz oboe. Erratic.

Eva: I think you're the trumpet.

Joe: An erratic trumpet.

Anisha: Yeah...

Sam: Oboes are a horrible instrument.

Joe: I think oboes are beautiful.

Anisha: Oboes are a horrible instrument anyway.

Joe: I think oboes are beautiful! I love oboes.

Sam makes a sound like a duck trying to sing.

Anisha: Exactly.

Sam: It's like a duck trying to sing.

Anisha: It's like a strangled pygmy...

Sam: Like grade one singing technique for duck. It is beautiful in the right place but I do think trumpet. I think Eva is that kind of slightly weird woman at the front who kind of scats. Like woobeebopbaalaa

Eva: Ok, I quite like that...

Sam: Bit weird, wiry hair...smell a little bit...

Eva: Can we have a look at your hair?

Sam: Oh my hairs brilliant. Look at that.

Q.L: Wow. Could you describe your hair for our readers?

Anisha: I think he looks like a kitten that's been dipped in water.

Joe: You look like Christopher lee.

Eva: You look like Ken. With plastic hair.

Anisha: Yeah, you're right actually. Plastic Ken, Barbie doll.

Sam: For those of you out there that don't know what I look like, I look fantastic at the moment. I'll put that out there. What would Anisha be? Here we go...

Q.L: We need a drummer.

Joe: I think Sam's the drummer, not just because you play the drums but also because you're quite rhythmical. Unpredictable sometimes...

Sam: I think Anisha's like a fan, like the one at the front that desperately wants to be part of the band.

Anisha: I hate you all. I'm holding this company together just for the record.

Q.L: Everyone's shaking their heads at this point.

Eva: I'd say Anisha's the banjo.

Joe: Saxophonist!

Sam: A really over sized one as well, novelty.

Anisha: The over sized one?!

Q.L: Over sized saxophone or the over sized player?

------

Q.L: Considering the context of modern theatre, what would you say is the point of Parrot in the Tank?

Eva: What do you mean?

Q.L: What does Parrot bring...

Joe: I've been thinking about this. Because, before I came to central I was really into political theatre and agit prop and stuff like that, and that was purely because of thinking that theatre really needed to some kind of reason like social change or as a highlight...and I think the reason behind parrot is to highlight really basic human emotions and how important they are. That's how I see. We use 'love' a lot, as an emotion, and I think its because love is fractioned so much today love, lust, one nights stands, all that kind of thing, there are loads of fractions of love and its really nice to just do something that's just about love. A core thing. But people do it about all fractions of love but its nice to just do one.

Eva: I think the tragedy and the comedy of that can be...interesting that you talk about political theatre because I think the kind of fun in watching and understand the message at the end and reviewing actually thinking that was actually really sad but I laughed, that can be equally critical. Bringing people together to observe these basic human emotions can really be quite a powerful statement.

Sam: I think that's why I joined the company. Not really knowing what I was getting into. I know that our early ethos was, its kind of slightly misguided maybe, but to be completely devoid of dramaturgy, coos at that time I think we felt that dramaturgy was something that really dragged down but recently we've sorted decided against that.

Joe: Found our own way.

Sam: We've found a really nice way of using dramaturgy to story-tell.

Q.L: Like Buddha?

Sam: Like Buddha, maybe like Buddha.

Joe: What does that mean?

Sam: But aside from that is was the very fact that it was focusing in on loveliness and playfulness and fun in theatre and I think it came at a time when maybe we were surrounded by work that was very driven to have a purpose. And I think its misguided to say that having fun and entertaining theatre is devoid of purpose, because it does its there to enjoy and to kind of generate good feeling among people and I think there's not enough theatre that is there to entertain anymore. Obviously they're all there to entertain but they're there purely to put a massive great grin on people's faces, which I think is what we are trying to work towards in a sense.

Eva: I think there is something really magical in creating things that seem pointless and without sense. I think it's really important for people to see something like that on stage, and take that bizarreness of that experience and place that next to their own reality and go, what does that juxtaposition tell me? Am I missing something?

Sam: I think that the fine line comes when you ask, are we being indulgent with our work and I think we've always stayed true...we're talking about doing a show where all the money that's generated we wanted to give off to charity and work towards helping people and using the theatre as a small tool in a way...

Joe: I was chatting to martin last night who's the head of the arts theatre, and I don't know how because he didn't see the show so I'm not quite sure how he said this but he was like, 'we had somebody in the other day who was just like you, it was so pretentious and horrible I hated it, it was horrible. The nice thing about you guys is everything you do is really heartfelt. Its not theoretical thought out, its not...you can take it as a thinking mans thing if you want to but everything you do is just really...you've thought about it with your heart rather than the head and its so...it makes the people that watch it look with that Same attitude, with the heart than with the head.

Q.L: That reminds me of 'Waiting in the Wings' which was just an incredible experience.

Eva: No, definitely.

Q.L: Have you got anything to say?

Joe: You've been quiet since you said that anger is great.

Anisha: Sorry, I've just been thinking about that and getting more and more angry. No, I agree with heartfelt theatre. I think that the stuff we make is not about comprehending stuff or intelligently or on that kind of level. I think its just about going into a space and kind of sharing an experience and characters and sharing their individual lives. I think its kind of emotion theatre I think. Its not necessarily about smiling the whole way through, I think when we started it was like that and I think freeman gallop was a bit like that but I think we're moving towards, not constantly trying to make people smile, just about making them feel something...

Q.L: Thank you all very much.

New writings, new movements.

 

The Skratchwerk platform of staged readings of new writing and recently devised work has been one of the highlights of The Accidental Festival so far this year. The sheer variety of work on show was perhaps the most impressive element. Everything from a staged scene from a film set in Somerset, to a movement piece about the joy in a well constructed sandwich was there for viewing. The relaxed atmosphere where the audience were asked for thoughts, feedback and ideas was sustained throughout. A panel of experts were on hand to provide further thoughts and reflections on the works, all of which are in some stage of development. All of these writers and performers are ones to look out for, and as such we have briefly described them all below.

 

 

Blurred Contours, by Alec Orchard-Lisle; directed by Goo Birks, performed by Dickon Tyrrell and Joanne Ferguson.

 

While the idea of staging a film script is problematic and maybe hindered rather than facilitated our engagement with this excellent script, its qualities did shine through in the hands of two skilled actors. Set in rural Somerset, Nathan and Sarah run a farm together. She ventures out into town and is gone for the whole day. He is distant and irritable on her return. Clearly there's a wedge driven between them. This finely crafted script raises more questions than it answers - the exposition is subtle and measured, the dialogue convincing and compelling, the attention to detail excellent. Part of a multi-narrative film script under construction, this portion of the text told us something of the intricate and delicate human relations that exist everywhere, and suggested they are perhaps even more fragile and important in the isolation of the country-side.

 

 

Prometheus, by Gareth Martin; performed by Gareth Martin.

 

This wonderfully original monologue uncovered many uses for one's shirt. Martin, a skilled puppeteer, found a multitude of ways to portray a character using the shirt as object, cage and canvas. The seemingly random and messy transitions just made the crystallisation of the form, when it came, even more satisfying. Walking comfortably the borders between visual comedy and verbal meditation, this piece was well-written, vibrant and vitally performed. One observation from the audience, that the character could be an old man struggling with his shirt in a department store changing room, provided a visual context that would have added much to this work in progress. This is the type of versatile piece that could have worked as stand-up, straight monologue or unsettling performance art.

 

 

Life at the Molecular Level, by Present Attempt.

 

In what was described as a live-devised piece, three men, dressed in boxer shorts and socks, enacted a documentary about a man who travels in to the upper reaches of the Earth's atmosphere. Part of a larger devised piece, the three sections we witnessed as part of this showing would have formed a series of interludes between other scenes. The convention of the piece appeared to be that when a mistake was made the three would rewind and start that section again. This highly satisfying aspect of the piece, combined with some quick thinking improvisation, maintained a good level of tension throughout. While focusing perhaps too completely on the comedy and not allowing the genuinely tender moments which were present to come through, this piece clearly had an excellent potential to become fully formed.

 

 

Object, Image, Photo, by Nessah Muthy; performed by Hassan Dixon and Charlotte George.

 

The tension of this excellently written piece is palpable from the off. There is a particular sense of savage use and abuse of trust by the seemingly vicious, calculated and young Francesca against Johhny, an older man with learning difficulties. Fuelled by a desire to court media fame and celebrity, Francesca seems incapable of concern for anyone but herself. Some of the feedback for this piece was that perhaps Francesca could be a more multi-faceted character, use more tactics and ways to achieve what she wants. While more variety and depth to the characterisation would benefit this piece, the characters presented were well considered and nicely formed. Francesca's motives and history are clearly a little more fragile than they appear on the outside, and it would appear abuse is following abuse. The prose-like opening description and the filmic qualities of this piece suggest that this writer could turn her talents to a variety of forms.

 

 

But Seriously though..., by Anna Martine and Greg Bartlett; performed by Anna Martine and Greg Bartlett.

 

Viewing the progression of a relationship in reverse, this positive and affirming piece of theatre, sensitively and simply staged, felt natural and flowed beautifully throughout. Charting the moments of possibility within a relationship, where one small decision or contextual different could change everything, speaks to the random but still affirming basis of all human relations. Knowing where this story-in-reverse ended meant that, unlike much theatre about couples, we knew we were not in for an unhappy ending. That liberated both the performers and the audience to simply enjoy the material on show. Born from improvisation, this piece fitted together so naturally. The text was of the best and most honest naturalism that could be hoped for, and does make one wonder if scripted naturalism can ever really work in comparison. An excellent piece by two very accomplished actors.

 

 

Untitled, by Anna Martine and Michael Brett; performed by Anna Martine.

 

This tender and positive piece revelled in its simplicity. The use of the words "Nice" and "Nicer" made such simple but considered linguistic sense. Performed with utter selflessness and relish by Anna Martine, this piece demonstrated that great actors need very few words to communicate everything they need. It was a real boiled down essence of script, describing just a few of the things this character enjoys in life - well made sandwiches, ginger nut biscuits, tea. The joy in the performance struck a wonderful chord with the audience, reminding us that perhaps one should enjoy those small joys in life with the same gusto and energy with which we tend to our small problems.

 

 

Milieu, by Alan Fielden; performed by Rose Lewenstein, Sean McKenna and Daniel Cecil.

 

Meditative and carefully crafted, this piece suffered from its position at the end of a long session of play readings. Perhaps the most literary of the works we heard all night, Alan Fielden's text was a study in considered storytelling. Three characters find themselves on a balcony while the social cogs turn inside, backed into a corner alone, perhaps none of them feel as though they belong elsewhere. Not connected by class, occupation or interests, these three storytellers are brought together by self-deselection from the social world elsewhere. In the hands of actors and a director who really understand Fielden's words, this work would soar above all others. As with many of the pieces seen in this exceptional night of performances, the script on display here bodes well for the reinvigoration and continuing diversity in theatre today.


- James Grogan

When the clowns came to town...

 

The second day of The Accidental Festival at the ICA saw the coming of the clowns. Serendipity by LE Navet bêtE saw "five clowns search for creativity in a bio-physical world of their own making, a work of chaos. Is it an alternative reality or just the same reality we all know and love?" as their programme blurb says. Well, the somewhat self-deprecating overly intellectual tone of the programme was continued in the piece. Their form was deconstructed clowning, queered buffoons. Their content was chaos theory, string theory, Schrödinger and his cat. Their research was, well, on show.

 

            The physicality was impressive and the energy with which they burst onto the stage was admirably maintained. The frantic first few minutes left me feeling as though they surely could not continue at such a pace - but continue they did, only letting the energy and our attention drop in one or two moments. References to Dr. Strangelove and the disquieting juxtapositions of a calm, singing, wheelchair bound centre point and the frenetic jumpings of those around him were very effective in the first section of the show, and received well deserved laughs.

 

            The sense of comic repetition was very attuned - pushing just far enough to give a proper punch, but not getting boring in the exploration. The spectacle and the comedy within the spectacle were exceptional. The acrobatic fighting, falling and fine-tuned floundering were all very watchable and excellently undertaken.

 

            Where one got frustrated was in the clear and obvious links between the researched material and the performance. Example: "Effect is cause revealed, cause is an effect concealed" was a phrase heard repeated dozens of times during the piece and then demonstrated in dozens of ways. That's all well and good, but you can see the verbatim research that's been placed on stage: someone finds an interesting quote, and that quote is taken wholesale into the piece. This level of devising, while prevalent in even some of the best companies (I am reminded of Complicite's A Dissapearing Number in this regard), is frustrating and lacks a certain degree of imagination. Which is surprising with LE Navet BêtE as they seem brimming with the stuff.

 

            The other unfortunate characteristic of the work was their reliance on juvenile humour for cheap jokes. This is a company of young men and one can imagine that in their improvisations and play sessions they make jokes that make each other laugh: jokes about penises, shit and homosexuality. Such jokes always divide audiences: those who laugh out of shock, those who laugh because they find it funny, and those who find it facile and annoying. I got the feeling that at different times we all found ourselves in all three categories. One particularly unfortunate sequence seemed to compare homosexual men to monkeys.

 

            There's nothing wrong with juvenile humour. But it lacks the sophistication to carry for more than a few moments. This company are clearly very talented and creative, they have a cunning sense of humour and real taste for expertly rendered spectacle - and that's rare. It is, however, unfortunate that they rely endlessly on cheap jokes - jokes they do not need and that do not bring them closer to the performance they are capable of.

- James Grogan

Serendipity will be playing at the Edinburgh Festival at Sweet ECA from August 3^rd to August 17^th. Box office: 0870 241 0136

Energy and enthusiasm fails to find anything but a shallow expression

Youthful enthusiasm, bright eyes and plenty of vacuous performances marked the performance, last night, of Drums on the Dam, by New York University students at the ICA. The story, written in the style of a fable-like Chinese tale of corruption, political malaise and cut corners in the building of dams to protect a city from the flooding river, was evocative of (though thankfully did not directly reference) recent events in Myanmar and China. The river floods and the dam bursts and the impoverished are sacrificed to protect the richer city dwellers and the ruling classes. Ultimately everyone dies and it's all very tragic.

    The setting of a recently flooded grade school was interesting and brought a good foothold for the dramaturgy of the piece. Perhaps lacking a coherent sense of connection to the place in which it claimed to be set, the stage served as a multitude of contexts, with a somewhat distancing effect. The staged mess was cleared at the outset and never quite made the full circle that might have been somewhat more satisfying.

    What was clear was that the performers were more comfortably actors than puppeteers. Their use of more traditional, if not melodramatic, acting techniques was nicely offset by the soft-toy puppets that were manipulated with varying degrees of skill. There was, perhaps, too much movement by most of the actors, suggesting they wanted us to look more at them than the objects they were supposed to be communicating through. The dual focus of the puppet/actor was an interesting device, one that pushed the audience to choose where they wanted to put their focus. As such you could chose which layer you wished to engage with, or sit back and allow all the many layers to wash over you - a sort of invited phenomenological viewing.

    Many of the performative techniques - use of live drumming, presentation of each scene with a short non-charactered tableaux, stylized shaping of limbs for certain characters - were reminiscent of Beijing Opera and had a certain degree pop-traditional Chinese infusion. The techniques themselves did not add much to one's understanding or enjoyment of the show, though they did, for those so inclined, provide a bit of intellectual reward - those who spotted the references would no doubt have enjoyed them, for that reason alone. This was characteristic of what is, no doubt, a well-researched and intellectualised play. As such, much emotional honesty was lost in flair and spectacle.

     The arch of the performances, moving from actors manipulating puppets, to actors holding soft toys (reminiscent of the children who might have been in the flooded grade school) revealed the fatal flaw of this production. As actors with puppets these performers were very watchable, they kept us transfixed and added an excellent level of humour on many occasions. As actors, simply acting, the shallowness of their portrayals was striking. The play petered out with no full stop, no sense of completion. It staggered over the line, unable to hold itself up with the poor quality of the acting. The fact that this quality, or lack there of, had been hidden until then was testament to the power of objects to intrigue and keep audiences interested.

    The piece was comfortably postmodern. Before the performance we were read to by Kevin Kulkhe (actor, director and teacher at NYU) a very self-aware speech which was written to be read rather than heard. His main point, and a valid and interesting one at that, was that in order to provoke, a theatre artist must seek a genuine expression of something important to them, rather than try to shock or put their audiences through an arduous experience. This good advice to young theatre makers - who mainly populated his audience - was not followed by the students he both teaches and directed in this production. They were following the ever-more set and standard methods of friendly alternative theatre. As such, when the visual and character comedy turned to tragedy (as it was inevitably going to do) there was nothing to hold it up. The referencing of the traditional form gave some space for melodrama - how can one have Beijing Opera without melodrama and stylization? - but the point is that the form only became interesting when it was invested with something different - the puppets - and when that was taken away we were left with a poor version of the tradition, so the foundations of the tragedy were taken away, and it all disintegrated.

We were seeing acting-by-numbers in a show that was postmodern-by-numbers - perhaps appropriate for a play set in a grade school. The frail and hollow façade of the performance fell apart just like the shoddy and ill-founded dams of the play's title.

Always a shame when youthful energy and fresh faces turn out to be little more.

- James Grogan

Drums on the Dam was performed as part of The Accidental Festival, which continues until Saturday 24th May at the ICA. The Observatory will be reviewing several shows from the festival in the coming days.

Excerpts from an interview with LDR, the arts company behind 'sfumato' at the Victoria & Albert Museum, consisting of Alan Fielden (absent), Neil Keating, Dan Marsden and Sean McKenna,




Quiche Lorraine: Speaking individually, what right now is your favourite colour?

Sean: Red
Dan: Purple
Neil: Royal Blue

Q.L: Germany or Brazil?
Sean: Germany
Dan: Brazil
Neil: Brazil

Q.L: Sundays or Saturdays?
Sean: Sundays
Dan: Sundays
Neil: Usually Saturdays
-------
Q.L: Regarding the public face of LDR, what would you assume are the main misconceptions of LDR, just from the show 'sfumato'.

Neil: That we're all deeply psychologically damaged.

Q.L: Is that a misconception?

Neil: Well that's arguable. I could claim some degree of sanity.

Sean: I suppose we'd be seen as quite artsy. We never intended to be artsy. But it might have come out that way. I suppose we are artsy, in some way or other.

Q.L: I understand some part of the intention [of 'sfumato'] to be of accessibility.

Neil: I think we wanted to not be obscure, we wanted to not be artsy, we wanted to not over intellectualise, but we did all those things.

Dan: Yes. Absolutely

Neil: And I think it came across that way as well. Maybe you need to resist those things to make them stronger. I don't think theres something wrong with that necessarily. To be honest I think anything that was communicated in public was at the same time a misconception and completely accurate.

Q.L. laughs.

Neil: It just depends how you cut it.

pause

Sean: I have something on the name, as you mentioned that. Because it was just letters and it didn't convey any particular of idea within itself...I don't actually have that big a problem with it, but I think its just, the same as just complete abstract aesthetics...

Q.L: Yes. If people were to assume from the name LDR, which is said to mean...um...the meaning is up to the perceiver, if someone was to assume that through calling yourself LDR that there is a lack of interest in your public facade...

Sean: Well yeah, its almost deliberately being evasive and not clear, opaque.

Neil: I also think some people suspected that LDR really did stand for something and it really did stand for something quite amazing that would be so great, and it just became this esoteric thing, which it never really was...but its also interesting because people who knew us, still know us I suppose...had a very sort of, 'For fucks sake there they go again', but then people who didn't, they didnt even question it, they were like 'Yeah you're called LDR someone else is called Flying Horses of the Apocalypse who cares', it doesnt matter...so I think the context is very important.

Q.L: So within that context what other names did you consider?

Sean: Oh no, just don't Alan, just don't open it up.

Q.L: My name's Quiche Lorriane...

Sean: Oh Quiche, don't open it up Quiche.

Neil: 'Last Night a Dramaturge Saved My Life', that was one of my favourite.

Q.L: That's a wonderful name.

Sean: I quite liked the 'Knights of Shod', I think everyone had an affection that.

Neil: And of course at one point National Art Service.

Q.L: They all would have added a different context to the 'sfumato' title, or taken away...

Dan: Yeah. If it had been 'Knights of Shod' it would have been very confusing. I think people would have laughed a lot more, during the performance they would have felt more comfortable laughing.

Sean: I just don't know what on earth people would have got out of that, if it was this show that looked like that, it was called 'sfumato', but the company were called 'Knights of Shod', what are these people actually trying to do? Which may have been the case anyway...

Neil: But then, it's very difficult to create satire which has that tension, is it serious, is it not, and I think that would have come closer to that.

...and welcome to the observatory of the National Art Service. From here people, places, practices and performances are seen and noted. We hope you enjoy our observations. If you would like to add to our documentations please be in touch at office@nationalartserviceDOTorgDOTuk

Alan