Chimerica: Headlong at The Harold Pinter Theatre

I saw this performance at the Harold Pinter Theatre, London on Tuesday 10^th September 2013 at 7.30pm.

It was my first time cycling in rush hour traffic in London, I set off at 8am to make sure that I could get in the queue at the Harold Pinter by 9am, so that I could get two £10 day tickets for my friend and I to see Chimerica that night. I cycled through Victoria Park and along Regents Canal before joining the CS3 cycle superhighway and heading to Charing Cross. The roads were busy, the cycle paths were busy. My general cycle pace is fast, I was trying to overtake slower commuters but then had to keep stopping to check my map to make sure I was going in the right direction so they inevitably caught up and overtook me so I was stuck behind them again. But no matter, I was on a mission and I was on time. I pulled up at the Harold Pinter, saw that there were only four people in the queue so far and locked up my bike around the corner. I walked over to stand in the queue and then opened my bag to pull out my book... which, in my mad dash to leave by 8am and not forget both the D-lock and curly lock for my bike, I had forgotten. That meant I had one hour to stand in the queue, with no book to read and not wanting to use my phone and drain the battery, for fear that I would not have the Google Maps function to see me home. Damn.

My first thought was to find the closest newsagent and pick up a copy of the i, but what if someone then came and took my spot in the queue and then I couldn't get a ticket? No, I had made the rookie mistake, I had to live with it. I stood in the queue and decided to just enjoy the atmosphere of London and do you know what? I did. The sounds, the people, the cold air on my sweaty-from-cycling back, I was lapping it up, because this was my second week in the big smoke and I was just thankful to be there. When a truck turned up in front of the theatre with the words 'Food Supplies' on it, I asked the guy in the queue next to me if he thought they were maybe supplying us all with bacon sandwiches and coffee while we stood in the queue. A little laughter and then a long discussion about how to be an actor in London ensued and before I knew it, the box office was open and my tickets were being booked.

I asked the box office employee if he had seen the show, he said he had, I asked him what he had thought of it, he looked at me from behind his glass partition and he said 'Spectacular', then handed me two tickets for the front row. We were in business.

The set consisted of a large cube which took up most of the stage and rotated. The existence of the cube enabled projections onto the outside of it, of images, backgrounds and the like, but there were also sets set up within it, so the rotation could move you from one flat to another, from China to New York. When it rotated, people would walk past, or stand and be moved, all to create the setting of the next scene. The result was the most cinematic experience I have ever seen in a theatre, it enabled all those quick scene-setting images that films can use, to locate and contextualise the next scene of the play. It was used to great effect.

 

The play followed the journey of Joe the American photojournalist who had taken a photograph of a man standing in front of a tank in Tiananmen Square in China in 1989. Joe returns to China many years later and learns that the 'tank man' is still alive, it then becomes his mission to find him.

This mission overtakes Joe's life, to the point where all of the other surrounding characters who had been helping him in some way, seem (to him) to become obstacles to his goal. His boss Frank (Trevor Cooper), his friend and colleague Mel (Sean Gilder) and his love interest Tessa (Claudie Blakley) but most upsettingly his friend Zhang Lin (Benedict Wong). One by one, he alienates himself from them, all in pursuit of his goal.

This play addresses many issues and does so with witty dialogue, clever direction and superb acting.

One of my favourite scenes is Act Three, Scene Two, where Joe meets in Washington Square Gardens with his boss and colleague while they discuss the fact that Frank wants Joe to drop the story. The order has come from above in relation to strategic planning for the company that owns the paper, wanting to open up into the Chinese market. Frank is carrying out the orders, afraid for his job when he has a son with leukaemia and mounting hospital bills. There are so many important issues raised in this scene, about censorship, free press, bias of the media and reporting matters of public interest, versus the individual's need for a job, a wage, their personal circumstances massively affecting how they may react and behave to the bigger issues.

There are also some very well depicted relationships within the story. The heart wrenching one is that of Zhang Lin and Liuli. To describe this in detail would ruin the story for anyone who has not yet scene it, suffice to say that their performance, their story, even the hallucinations, are all performed to perfection to provide the most subtly beautiful love story that I would consider to be the heart of the play. 

For me there were just a couple of loose ends tied up at the end that I did not think really worked. Again, not wanting to give any spoilers, but the condition that Tess is in in the last scene that her and Joe meet, seemed a little contrived, obvious, unnecessary really, I think their relationship was worth more than that. She had felt that she couldn't be with him while he cared more about the bigger issues and not enough about her. This is something that they never really dealt with and perhaps would have been too big to deal with in the end of the play, but I feel that the resolution here was not the right one and would have rather this was left more open-ended perhaps.

I feel similar about the 'twist', as it were, with the tank man's identity. I feel that the earlier revelation about Pengsi and his brother, that should have been the real twist, the real ending to that part of the story – who was the real hero? I prefer that as a final thought, to the thought that you might be searching for something that was under your nose all along.

However my mentioning of these two little things by no means tainted the production for me. I felt that the play, in its entirety, was simply incredible. Having been to playwriting workshops over the last couple of years, I find it very hard to watch a play and not dissect the writing and structure completely. In this play, the direction and acting was to such a high standard that I was immersed in the world from the second it started until long after the play ended. I have been dipping in and out of the script ever since, reminding myself of scenes, re-hashing what happened in my mind. This was an incredible production and I would certainly recommend it to anyone who wants to see good professional theatre and new writing at its best, I will certainly be on the lookout for more writing from Lucy Kirkwood in the future.

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆
 

Chimerica runs at the Harold Pinter, London, until the 19^th October 2013.

Man in the Moone: Rhum and Clay at The New Diorama

Rhum and Clay have long been a favourite theatre company of mine, they represent my introduction into the world of physical theatre in a way that is accessible, engaging and simply magical. They all graduated from Jacques Le Coq Theatre School in Paris back in 2010 and formed the group as they are now. Each year since then they have attended Edinburgh Fringe Festival with a new production which they have also toured to London, the South West and other places. Their first show was Shutterland, a showcase of the skills they had learnt at school. This was followed by the ingenious A Strange Wild Song, which will forever be one of my favourite pieces of theatre. This was the tale of three young boys, stranded by war, found by a soldier with a camera. It was naïve, touching, resonant and infinitely clever, along with a superb live soundtrack. A hard act to follow indeed.

Perhaps my love and obsession with A Strange Wild Song would mean that any show that followed would feel a bit of a disappointment, unfortunately that was exactly the case with Man in the Moone.

The show is still said to be under development, therefore perhaps my critique would become obsolete, and I would hope that this would be the case, however I will continue to review the play anyway, as is my new-life resolution to review all productions that I see now that I am living in London.

The basic storyline follows a man who is discontent with his life as an office worker and he seeks something more. Given the number of casting calls that I have read lately, this seems to be a recurring theme for a large number of creative projects at present, no doubt fed by the lack of public funding and the need for us creative-types to pay our way with 'regular' day jobs which we feel detract from the time we would rather spend doing our passions. The protagonist in this case has, since birth, been fascinated with the moon and therefore commits much of his life to researching how he might get there. The story follows this journey.

There are moments of Rhum and Clays stunning visual choreography when they show the city culture in and out of the office. As strong as it was physically, I couldn't help but feel that the subject was a little 'done' and lacking in the creative originality that was evident in A Strange Wild Song. What followed on as he started his trek towards the moon were a number of more abstract scenes blending space travel with mountain expeditions, introducing some new characters which I couldn't help but feel were caricatures that were not quite fully formed. Although the protagonist was likeable and relatable, there was something lacking, that spark that was present in the characters in A Strange Wild Song was not evident in this new piece... yet.

I am reluctant to write a review that is not in complete favour of the work of this young company, I admire their work, their work ethic and they remain one of my favourite companies. They indicated that their next plan is to spend two years working on a full length piece, that will hopefully propel them from a touring fringe company to a company performing at a much higher level, with a higher profile. I hope that they can see Man in the Moone as a learning curve, but use A Strange Wild Song as the basis for the kind of story, quality and ingenuity that they need to create their new longer piece.

This is still a company to watch in the future, I would give this production ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ but I give the company ★ ★ ★ ★ ☆ . 

I saw Man in the Moone at the New Diorama Theatre, London, on 6th September 2013 at 7.30pm. 

Rhum and Clay will be touring their variety of shows throughout Autumn 2013: 

17th October The Arts Centre at Winterbourne International Academy, Bristol
18th-19th October Pegasus Theatre, Oxford
24th October Theatre Royal, Margate
1st November Embrace Arts, Leicester
2nd November Déda, Derby
5th-19th November (assorted dates) Bike Shed Theatre, Exeter (Part of a three week residency)
22nd November Landmark Theatre, Ilfracombe, Devon  

Rapping in the Rain

Sometimes when I see a performance it makes me want to grab my laptop and write a review, so that I can share my experience with others in the hope that more people will go, see it, and get something back from it like I have. 

Today’s performance of ‘Rain’ by Jack Dean was one of these performances. I picked it from the Ignite Festival line-up because of its subject matter, pathetic fallacy and mental illness – a fun chirpy sort of one man show, perfect for a sunny evening after work. I sort of skirted over its mention of hip hop poetics when I read about it, the subject matter intrigued me enough, so I booked a ticket. 

The turn out was pretty good, a fair indication of a promising performance ahead, but the performance exceeded my expectations immensely. Jack’s stage presence was relaxed but stunningly self-assured and confident. The words weaved and threaded through life experiences, rain clouds and hilarious pop-culture related jokes. The words were eloquent and so well delivered that I didn’t miss a single one and the changes between rap and different characters kept it interesting and engaging. The staged rap in the middle of the show was a delightful highlight, as was the therapist/patient scene. The music and the prop were also very well thought out clever elements of the show, I certainly think that by making sure your audience is relaxed, they will be more receptive to what you then give them and I think that the music did just that.

I left feeling that I had experienced all of the things that I would hope to from a performance, I had laughed, I had been surprised and I had identified. I hope to see more from Jack Dean in the future and I encourage you to see this show while you can. 

Last chance is tomorrow, 6^th June at 8.15pm at The Phoenix. Run time is 30 minutes.

England 11

It has been a while since I last posted anything. Here is a sonnet.

England 11

Once cricket, today violence reigns o’er sport,

Then modesty, tonight youth bare thy flesh

There, value of intelligence was taught

Your generation mean to start afresh

You crave and long for your fame and fortune,

Work not hard nor respect the trodden path

Instead expect, demand, it all too soon

‘Give me thy all else receive my wretch’d wrath’

Angry flames engulf my favoured cities

Eloquently protesting without aim

You sit, judge, sit, consume and spread disease

Bank accounts and bellies fatten. No shame.

If only you could plump instead your minds

Not follow, but question, open my blinds

CaroMel

It has been an unexpected, overwhelming sadness. Sadness was expected, but not to this extent. There was an influence there that was never fully realised or considered. An admiration was duly noted, but the true idolism was not.

To see a strong person fighting, battling so successfully at first and then to fall at the final hurdle. How can such a courageous fight be rewarded with such a harsh reality? How can it just be ended?

I continue with life, people talk, I seem to listen, moving through the motions but with a patchwork hole, a hole where a patch was never really noticed until it had been torn out and lost, wasted and thrown away into a large black hole of cancer.

A special connection, a friendship, born of common interests, common excitement and a common sadness. A common struggle, not to the same extent but something debilitating with the same escape route, the same aim in that common hobby. A shadow overhanging both minds and a love of writing to express the pain and suffering to make it real whilst wishing it wasn’t.

So truly really wishing it wasn’t real.

And now, the reality hits so hard and rains on every smile I try to force out. Every tiny disappointment brings tears to my eyes as I think of the huge disappointment that is the end of a life. The end of a human life. A life that was so rich with love and creativity and kindness, such kindness and laughter.

A truly joyful person to have known, an inspiration. Someone who has influenced the path of my life in a way in which she will never be fortunate to know. Blessing others by allowing them to know her beauty inside and out but with no knowledge of the hole she leaves behind, the pain of loss.

She once asked what the connecting feature was for her writing, between her struggle with cancer, her often absent husband, her moving abroad. I pointed out the simple truth, she was a strong woman, strong enough to cope with all the nastiness that life dealt her. Through knowing her she has made me stronger too. But not so strong that I do not miss her existence terribly.