This was my third time being invited to review this performance, Colloquium, and it is always an honour to see how the performance has developed and improved, and, yet again, improved it certainly has. Written by Katherine Stockton and directed, on this occasion, by Molly Wilsher, this performance was staged at Culture Palace, London. Concerning the text, style and momentum are far more consistent. We have lost the former freneticism and fragmentedness, and there is now a far greater fluidity and rhythm and a greater consistency in the overall voice of the play. Dialogue, for the most part, feels a lot more natural and authentic, and conversations feel less superficial and more varied, deepening our understanding of the characters as living, feeling humans, as opposed to mere progressors of the narrative. Similarly, character relationships are far clearer, from the status of the characters within the university to the characters’ personal relationships to and with one another. We now understand the histories and motives of the characters far better as well. However, I mentioned above that dialogue feels more natural and authentic ‘for the most part’, and this is because, until Anna’s (Hannah Eggleton) monologue, dialogue seems to follow a certain rigid pattern. This pattern is characterised by a certain aggressive bantering between the characters, where questions are posed sarcastically and responded to with equally flippant, acerbic remarks, and then a bold, knowing statement is uttered. This provides the former part of the text with a certain roboticism and excessive structuredness and thus with a sense of inauthenticity. However, for some reason, after this first monologue, such a pattern disappears, or, at least, presents itself far less frequently. There are also some inconsistencies. Most notably, that Anna should detail her failing romance with George (Benjamin Prudence) to Ben (Callum Choudhury). So confrontational and dismissive towards Ben, adamant that nothing is happening between George and her, it should seem peculiar that she should then open herself up to him so readily and trustingly, and so elaborately, only to reproach him immediately afterwards with a “Happy now?!” and to continue with this disregard. We have seen nothing of him to imagine him as a loving and reliable confidant, and I cannot imagine what Anna would gain from opening up to him in this way. In fact, that they should be speaking with each other at all in this manner is rather debatable still. It is not necessary for every single character to have a relationship with one another, but, instead, the various contexts to which each of those characters belongs should combine and coexist coherently. I believe it is clear enough already that Ben and Alice share such a context as ‘competing’ applicants, and Ben could quite easily exist only in this context without this impairing the profundity of the overall text or his character. Anna, Ben and George do share the opening scene together, but what we see in this scene is a first encounter, and this is insufficient to warrant Anna opening up so freely as she does. I would not remove this first scene, however, as, regardless of how it contextualises the relationship between these three, it does establish status and differences amongst the characters and notably prepares us for the nature of the impending interviews. As for acting, this is a very strong cast. My only issue with almost all of the cast members is a propensity to preempt and react prematurely to other performers, relying too heavily upon the material established in rehearsal and not 'living in the moment'. However, this particular problem surfaces notably infrequently. One significant problem that does crop up frequently, however, concerns backstage etiquette. The distracting noises of performers rustling, coughing, preparing to enter onto the stage, etc. persisted throughout the entire performance. A further corporeal self-discipline is required for this purpose, and, especially in performance sites where sound travels easily, it is inherent that all necessary movements be made preemptively, systematically and in unison: as one performer enters, the performers next on stage must approach the curtain concurrently, to have the sound of their approach masked by the louder and more attractive sound of the entering performer. Similarly, performers should not gather to recompose in the backstage area but should approach the side of the curtain from which they will next be entering immediately after exiting the stage, queueing in order of appearance. Eggleton demonstrates a great sensitivity to her role, aware of her character intentions and presenting a great emotional range. She maintains throughout great credibility as well, but, where this emotionality is concerned, she could benefit from better graduality in her monologue; we go straight to wet-eyed forlorn, and it would be better to build this emotion. I would also recommend more subtlety in her shifting between emotional states. Alexandra Gallagher (playing Alice) has chosen this time around a characterisation significantly different to her previous one. She has chosen to portray Alice as highly emotional, despairing, almost traumatised. I can understand how this should be effective, particularly later on in the play, to express how this oppressive and exclusivist enrolment methodology would eventually affect applicants and their mental well-being, but this portrayal is rather extreme from the very beginning, even in her scenes with Choudhury, meaning that little room is left to develop the character and to chart her inevitable breakdown. In this way, her characterisation remains slightly caricatural and superficial. Still confident, bold and, for the most part, credible in her portrayal, I would just recommend that Gallagher work on her emotional sensitivity and study the text more thoroughly to decide which exact moments alter, challenge and ‘crack’ her character, and that she respond in her performance to each of these progressively, appropriately. Nevertheless, a degree more hostility, confidence and reproach should underpin her characterisation if Alice is to be understood as so ‘resistant’. I should note, however, that the character of Alice does seem to have a far more muted, insidious and implicit role in this draft; perhaps therein lies the issue here, with Gallagher reading her character as powerless and merely instrumental. Sean Bennett (playing Alfred) has lost his former caricaturality and roboticism altogether, no longer relying on repeated gestures or prop-handling to build his character profile but, instead, infusing this profile with a good array of idiosyncrasies to develop a consistent and unique characterisation: adjusting his cardigan, clasping his hands, pursing the lips, etc. His pacing has significantly improved, and he has also seen a great improvement in his interactivity with fellow performers, once performing too insularly. I only have two issues with Bennett’s performance, overall: firstly, it is made clear in the text that Alfred seems to have some kind of health issue or breakdown, revealing itself when he becomes particularly irate with Alice, prompting her to ask if she should seek assistance. This is significantly underplayed and rushed; we do not see this breakdown or build-up whatsoever, and, currently, it feels markedly peculiar that Alice should be so concerned for him in this way. Secondly, projection — and this also applies to Truman Gaudoin (playing Bennett). Especially given the echoic nature of this particular performance site, it is easy to lose the ends of these performers’ sentences. Beyond these issues, a faultless, credible portrayal. Gaudoin has established a solid and clear profile for Bennett, remaining bold and deliberate throughout. He performs with good credibility but could see slightly more variation in his characterisation. For this, I would recommend more reactivity when it comes to moments in dialogue where his character is simply listening, silent, and I would focus significantly on manual expression: Bennett has a tendency — by no means throughout his performance but, nevertheless, persistently — to allow his hands to flop beside him, motionless and inexpressive, particularly when engaging in a duologue for which he and his interlocutor must be stood. Not exaggeratively or with accentuation, but the hands should always be utilised to express; extremely rarely in the everyday do they flop by the sides. Prudence does wonderfully in his monologue, and the performance of certain deliberate stylistic decisions, such as revealing his bandaged wrists, posing for the mother’s photograph, etc., are handled impeccably well, feeling most spontaneous and natural. A few notable slip-ups on lines, but I would put this down not to nerves but to pacing, with Prudence being slightly too led by the emotional shifts of his character where control and creative self-regulation are still necessary. More of a directorial issue, I would just pay attention to the use of space in this monologue scene; it is not necessary to have him moving around, kneeling, sitting back down, standing up, sitting back down again, quite so consistently. Whilst the intention here is to allow for an increase in dynamism and vitality, the effect is exhausting and too deliberate; besides, the content of the monologue is varied enough not to warrant such an intense physicality in delivery. I should also mention that Prudence seems slightly lost during group scenes, whilst very comfortable during his monologue, seeming to omit in these scenes particularisation, specificity and variation in his characterisation. I would put this down both to blocking and writing; it is clear that Prudence is, quite rightly, unsure as to the purpose of his character’s presence in these scenes. I believe George should have a few more lines in such scenes, to better establish his presence as well as for us to better understand his character’s psychology, reasoning and perceptions of his surroundings — this includes his interaction with Bennett, discussing his taking over Alfred’s module. As it currently stands, both of the monologues do feel slightly incongruous with the rest of the text — stylistically, rather than in their content. That the monologuer should first share a scene with another character, only to wait until they are gone to begin, feels far too structured and deliberate. This is unaided by the change of lighting states, from a warm and thus less intense wash to a less natural, colder and brighter one. In these ways, identical for each of the monologues, they feel too marked and performative. I would, rather than remove them, rearrange them or mark them differently. They are effective in not only providing the characters with greater depth and intrigue but in providing respite from the heaviness and tensions of the text, breaking its momentum and adding variation. As for set, its minimalism, as before, permits this performance a great dynamism and multifunctionality. Aesthetically, considering also the type of chairs used, this is an appropriate set design. However, when it comes to blocking, it seems the creatives struggle to find a natural set of interactions with the set. The set has a precise and inflexible arrangement, and this seems to have a lot of power over the performers, forcing them to comply with the layout and offering little disorder. Not every scene requires the use of the chairs [this is not a recommendation to remove them but to occasionally ignore them]; and not every scene must see the characters in a sort of face-off, one sat on either side, or sat in such a symmetrical fashion. I enjoy the moment towards the end of the play, for instance, when Bennett sits next to Alfred, or when he crouches before Alice to intimidate her. Ignoring these moments, there are far too few to diversify the performers’ use of the set. I would recommend further considering the exact topography of each of the many settings of the play and to play around with only repeating interactions with the set when the setting is repeated. Costumes are superbly designed and correspond well with the characters’ respective identities. I also find the minimal use of props to be appropriate, although mobile phones should display something on their screens and not be left black, for credibility and illusion, and the text on the newspaper should be far more tailored, specific and revealing, for the same purposes. Lighting is equally congruous, and I would certainly keep this change of lighting states between the continuous action and the monologues; I only had an issue with this change due to how structured the monologues already feel in the text itself. Overall, a marvellous improvement and a solid, coherent performance. Great consistency in style, both in performance and in text. Excellent work from absolutely all cast members, as well. “An excellent, coherent and most enjoyable performance; an intellectual treat!”

I will start by stating that this pantomime has distinctly little appeal for children, despite welcoming so many into the house. From "oui oui hole", "Dick's huge Whittington", "Prince Charming's Balls" and other such double-entendre-based jokes to political quips, ironic feminist teachings and other sexual innuendoes, its material is distinctly mature. The chariot race, I would say, alongside the general existence of puppets, colourful costumes and projectile sweeties, are the only elements that show true consideration of the children in the audience. Of course, a pantomime must appeal to both adults and children and such adult content is not inherently problematic; this performance, however, fails to balance its adult content with that suitable for and enjoyable to children. Comedic content is also somewhat repetitive throughout: common social profiles, late entrances and missed cues, interrupted skits, or, most significantly, the constant deconstruction of pantomime. This latter works entirely against the creatives: having explained the context of the skit, then interrupting the skit to start all over again, then moving swiftly on to the next thing…all comedic potential is entirely thwarted in this manner. The main costumes are particularly irksome in this performance. It is beyond all reason that the two hosts should be dressed in sports uniforms, both pedestrian enough to feel out of place in their performance context yet obnoxious enough to clash with the costume pieces lain overtop. A few other costumes are simply undercooked, and not in a hilarious way: Other costumes, however, are most humorous and transportive: Cinderella, Prince Charming, and sleeping beauty's evil fairy. This performance aims to be eclectic, to offer great variety and yet lacks the framework necessary to refine, shape, structure and give identity to it. As it stands, it is merely chaotic and voiceless. Of course, the intention is to present a series of various pantomimes in quick succession, but the stories are simply skimmed over, replaced by completely unrelated skits that could be attributed to any pantomime at all or, worse, by a mere summarising narration. I would recommend far more attention be given to the stories presented; after all, this is the only objective of the show: to portray several pantomimes in one sitting. In terms of performance style, Daniel Clarkson is certainly far more expressive than Jefferson Turner, and this is jarring to watch at times. Especially with Clarkson performing longer solo skits – Prince Charming's monologues, his one-man reenactment of the King Rat and Cat's fight or his huge offstage monologue during the Cinderella story, to name a few – the comedic content is emphatically delivered by Clarkson over Turner, and this is a huge issue for a performance presenting two entirely equal hosts. Not only is Clarkson more expressive, having intenser physicality, but Turner rather underplays his characters. This sense of underplaying is most notable in the ambit of his gaze: Clarkson performs to the entire house, looking up to the circle, across the stalls, etc.; Turner merely performs outwardly, just above the stalls and just below the circle, in a comfort zone where no audience member should actually reside. All of this is unaided by his propensity to stumble over his lines. I would pay close attention to this discrepancy in the duo's performativity and to this lack of eye contact on Turner's part. As voiced by the hosts in the performance, it is, ironically, most peculiar that Charlotte Payne and Jacob Jackson should appear as unmarkedly as they do. Their appearances are also serious, not comedic or self-referential: Payne performs and sings beautifully as the fairy, and Jackson plays his roles with little metatheatrical self-reflection. In this manner, these two performers are most ill-incorporated into this show, despite how well they perform. I will say, however, that comedic timing is impeccable and that one-liners are well conceived, congruous and well delivered. Clarkson is a most energised and captivating performer, committing to the ludicrousness of his roles wonderfully. The duo do have a good chemistry, but I would work on allowing this to feel less artificial in places. Puppets are wonderfully crafted, and the majority of costumes are equally well designed. The set design is notably lacking, however, which is slightly made up for with the abundance of props, but this emphasises any moments where physicality and expressivity are lacking. “Chaotic, ill-considered and underplayed.”

This performance, written and directed by Lydia Vie, has a wonderful and exciting premise and presents an excellent range of engaging character types. Aesthetically, for the most part, it is also coherent and equally engaging in its eclectic and flamboyant design. A true feast for the eyes at times. However, I am afraid, the superficiality of the written text for this play restricts its potential from achieving much beyond visual appeal. I shall start with acting. We are presented with a great range of abilities, but repetitive characterisations – derived, of course, from the caricatural and unnuanced characters in the text itself – allow for monotonous and shallow profiles. This is particularly the case for those less focalised by the text, such as Anna Oggero (playing Violet) and Christiana Maycea (playing Silver): Oggero's constant hugging herself or fiddling with her hands is, of course, effective in quickly communicating nervousness but very soon becomes far too shallow and unyielding. Maycea is perhaps the most unenergised of the performers, and I would have liked to have seen far greater intensity, vigour and presence in her performance. A great intensity, however, from Sevi Filippidou (playing Eden) who remains bold, confident and self-aware throughout, but, again, her repetitive repertoire of movements weakens our reading of her character. Characterisation in performances like this, presenting scenelets in quick succession and lingering predominantly only on a few characters – in this case, Amber (Chryssi Janetou) – is most importantly achieved in silent scenes and in choreography. Unfortunately, wherever these actors are silent, they remain either frozen or perform extremely vague and indecipherable actions in slow motion. This is not effective in developing refined, precise and demonstrable characterisations. Indeed, choreography is very poor throughout the entirety of the performance, either repetitive or completely illegible. An example of illegibility is in the last sequence wherein Eden paints her hands in red lipstick to smear over Violet's hands in stealing her heart – a very symbolic and pretty depiction. As Filippidou does this, we see Oggero pulling at each of her fingertips, slowly, with fluid motions. What this represents is most unclear. To provide an example of repetitiveness, I would turn to Alexis Danan's (playing Felix) daisy chain dance or Oggero's rather unenergised attempt to get out of the web of caution tape, seeing her stumble vaguely back and forth, in and out of the various taped-off sections. Oggero, for example, spends the vast majority of the performance, especially in early parts, simply filing her nails, which is a most pedestrian and unrevealing activity, eliminating any poignant reading of her character. Audience perspective is not considered in choreography, either, particularly in what I shall refer to as the window-cleaning and the red-carpet sequences. Those not sitting in the centre of the house would be unable to see any of the action whatsoever. With choreography being so intrinsic to this performance, that it should be so repetitive and so vague is a huge issue. However, this is not to say that choreography shows no promise whatsoever. Indeed, the concept of Jasper's (Ilias Alexeas) window-cleaning sequence is endearing and humorous in its quirkiness and variety. That Felix should use the daisy chain, which his lover had used to hang herself, in a quick, passion-filled tango of sorts is equally enchanting. Indeed, there is a definite creativity lurking behind the choreography, but the creatives, on this occasion, were simply unable to pull it off in practice, presenting unvaried routines and repetitive repertoires in each choreographed sequence. In fact, each sequence could easily have been halved in time and would still have communicated the same content. I shall now move on to the text itself. Really, this play can be broken down into four parts. The first two, which constitute the majority of the performance's content, consist of the characters detailing their respective stories of heartbreak and of the characters playing games to pass the endless time they must spend in this liminal realm. The third part, in its brevity, consists of the characters breaking free from the hotel and moving on into the afterlife, and the fourth, even briefer, consists of Eden revealing her true intentions and trapping Violet forever. That such focus and attention should be given to these two former parts – and, most surprisingly, to the second I have mentioned – and that these latter two should be so rushed and inconsequential is most peculiar. Currently, this performance feels incredibly undercooked, presenting various, superficial vignettes which, in their thematic similitude, give the impression that the overall plot is coherent, well-established and profound but which, in truth, reveal very little about the characters, their stories and their current shared context. Far less time should be given to such unnecessary incidents as the characters playing charades, truth or dare and spin the bottle, and given, instead, to progressing the actual plot of the play. As it stands, it feels as though we are rushing through the meaningful elements of the performance – through the development of the characters and their inter-/relationships – and giving an unnecessary abundance of time to inferior, insignificant material. If the plot were far better developed, its significant and pivotal events would seem far less incoherent and haphazard: that Silver and Felix should fall in love, that Eden is, in fact, evil and conniving, etc. – both of which examples seem to come out of nowhere. One recommendation might be to present the characters' stories in quick succession upon Amber's entrance, so that we may understand the characters in their entirety from as early on in the play as possible, and then we can spend the rest of the play developing these characters, seeing what roles their traumas and heartbreaks play in their lives now, how character relationships develop because of these, etc. At least one game sequence should be permitted at the very most, for respite from heavy content or to trigger another development – that Amber should start to crush on Felix, for example. Personally, though, I would remove these game sequences altogether, as they currently only subtract from the performance's profundity and consume valuable stage time. The text seems to obsess over asking questions that are never answered, either when the characters are in game or with Jasper's catchphrase 'Have you ever felt so lonely you could die?' – indeed, that it should be Jasper's catchphrase and not Eden's is most peculiar. With so many questions being asked [and, again, never answered], bearing no relevance to the performance content whatsoever, these ought to be reduced or entirely deleted as well so that better focus may be given to more valuable story developments. I mentioned Jasper's catchphrase, and I would recommend far more context-related elements like this. That the four 'chambers' of the heart should be translated into the four chambers of the hotel and that Elvis Presley's song of the same name should be played again and again add a great sense of context in their symbolism and familiarity. However, these are the only elements beyond the luggage and luggage trolley and Eden's phone conversations with guests that actually draw us into the context of a hotel. Indeed, the significance of a hotel as opposed to any other liminal spiritual realm is left uncommunicated. Once again, an undercooked reference which, whilst being aesthetically appealing, bears little fruit in the bigger picture of the performance. We need to see what it is exactly about a hotel setting that should affect these characters. What are the relationships between the hotelier and guests? This question, in particular, is definitely something to better consider if we are to be at all shocked by Eden's final intentions. Even the performance's tagline, 'we hope you have an unpleasant stay', communicates a relationship between hotelier and guest, a dingy context of suffering and pain, but we do not actually see any of this in the text itself, only in our summations and personal imaginings. It seems as though the creatives have a great budding concept but have run away with it too quickly before it can be materialised in its final, more coherent form. A few final notes. One could argue that not only this performance's aesthetic but its overall storytelling style rely heavily upon an abundance of theatrical properties, from the severed horse's head to the bubble bottle. Such properties are ubiquitous and highly significant. In this way, any pretence of an action where props are not used, such as Eden's leafing through the hotel's reservations book and Amber's presentation of a dagger, becomes intensified and extreme, drawing excessive attention to the inferior presentation of mime and relying upon the audience's imagination that is elsewhere not called into action. I would recommend removing all mime from this performance and replacing imagined properties with physical, material ones. Otherwise, an emphatic stylistic inconsistency arises. There are a few, almost missable moments of audience interaction that are unnecessary and entirely distractive, and the vast, vast majority of these come from Oggero. This is a self-contained performance, never addressing its audience, not even in its various monologues. Thus, that Oggero should go so far as to scrub an audience member’s foot as though shining their shoe, look them in the eye, and roll away, has no purpose; it merely takes the audience member out of the performance and into an awareness of the audience-performer contract, the codes and mechanicality of the space and of the art form in general, and into an awareness of themselves and their own bodies. This self-consciousness is not in any way facilitatory in a performance like this. “A performance with great promise and intrigue but rushed, incoherent and incomplete.”

This is an excellent performance—perhaps a personal favourite. Rich in imagery and comedic appeal, this text is effective and most loveable. However, it seems to be still in an early stage of development. I shall start with the first thing audience members see when they enter the house: the set. This is a beautiful set design; it is most creative, dynamic and, above all, congruous with the material. It reflects well the narrative, with the various theatrical properties being assigned to their own space upon the floor, within a depiction of the cosmos, being evocative of Tess's (Rhiannon Neads) notions of ephemerality and of the histories of the characters, fleeting moments they have shared, aspects of their lives, etc., patently cementing these in time and space. The large, circular lanterns by the Upstage wall, representing celestial bodies, also add a sense of life and dynamism to what could otherwise be a static stage space, swaying gently throughout the performance. This set also serves a practical as well as a creative purpose: a neat and pragmatic organisation of the theatrical properties. Its circularity, whilst, of course, evoking the nature and forces of the solar system, also evoke the idea that these moments in time will recur in the characters' minds as memories, traumas, pains and feelings, and constantly remind us of the characters' shared past whilst foreshadowing their future. A very impressive set design. I would just pay attention to the area Upstage Right, which feels bare in comparison. This aesthetic combines excellently with the sound design, as well, to produce a sense of familiarity and thematic consistency. I would note, however, that the sound that closes the play is slightly too dramatic, given the lack of intensity in the written material itself, upon which I shall elaborate below. Nonetheless, sound design in itself—here and throughout—is impeccable. The theme of outer space and the universe not only grounds this play well but also looms over the characters with its notions of impending explosions, vastitude, inexplicability, etc. It provides the performance with a sense of structure, consistency and narrative, from the concept of two forces working against one another in something as 'pretty' as a star, to the visual representations of a lonely Tess, dwarfed in a huge white circle [her subjective perception of the universe] whilst Harry (Sam Swann) remains off to the side in his own bubble of light, to Tess's persistent, self-comforting and obsessive use of the astronaut costume. I would just note that the overture, with Tess walking slowly and buoyantly, as though on the moon's surface, is much too stylised, considering that this stylisation type will not appear again in this performance. I would recommend, if this is kept, that Swann enter a while after Neads to let this effect cement itself properly, at least; otherwise, this initial visual is too jarring and confused: we are on the moon, and yet is there a man in a suit and fez, plodding after her, unencumbered and with no breathing supports? On to the text itself. Also the writer of this play, Neads has produced a text with an excellent grip on popular-culture references, but this is simultaneously one of its most endearing facets and its downfall. The characters remain throughout superficial and obscured due to an overreliance upon and an unnatural presentation of bantering one-liners and questions that reveal nothing substantial about the characters' psyches and essences, such as 'What's your favourite planet?' or 'What would you do if a meteorite was about to strike Earth?' Tess's phone conversations with her friend reveal her feelings towards Harry and allude to her human emotionality, but they do not reveal anything significant about her—especially not that she has a propensity towards depression, which will be of paramount importance to understand as the play progresses. As for Harry, we come to understand nothing about him at all, beyond that he is a nice and loving person. Personally, I enjoyed their sweet and blossoming relationship so much that, halfway in, I was rather irked by the possibility that the writer could yet follow a traditional storyline, the notion that something horrid could come along and disrupt what they had together; I thought it would be interesting to see what a problem-less relationship could look like: an 'us against the world', where the only 'problem' is the world itself and is not anything between them…but I understand that this is simply a personal desire and not a critical dealbreaker. However, that Tess should end up with depression, beyond feeling lacklustre and unimaginative in following traditional trends as a plotline, feels incredibly superficial because of the manner in which it is presented in the text. It seems to come out of nowhere, with the only 'negative' emotional trait we see from Tess heretofore being her inability to accept that someone loves her and to express love unrestrainedly. This is insufficient to form the groundwork for our understanding of her depression. Evidently, it destroys the relationship, but exactly how and why is never elucidated. For example, suddenly, after being so loving and involved with Harry, she is now name-calling, denigrating and, ultimately, being emotionally abusive towards him. Of course, we can assume that she does still love him, that she is merely trying to push him away, as Harry himself indicates may be the case, perhaps out of fear of hurting him even more in the future if they were to continue to pursue their relationship together, but, really, we are given no reason for this random outburst. And that’s it. Relationship over, and now she’s cutting up his T-shirt. The progression—or, rather, regression—of their relationship is rushed and made unclear in this way; it remains merely a rapid series of allusions and incidents linked only by a newborn theme of depression, not having any relevance to the story we have seen thus far. Even the mere idea that she should be so distant from and dismissive towards him, avoiding physical intimacy, despite cuddling up to him, demanding sex and that he take the day off work to be with her a few scenes prior, is confounding. In fact, the volatile and terrified manner in which she refuses him almost equates to the behaviour someone going through sexual trauma would demonstrate, not so much depression, and this adds an unwanted, extra connotation. Despite this, however, other moments wherein we glimpse her depression, and her general pessimistic outlook on life, are depicted accurately, if a little cliché. In this way, it feels as though we are seeing mere glimpses, vignettes, into the characters' lives, as opposed to a fleshed-out and profound representations. We lose character profundity and replace it with a skeletal overview that rushes through the various stages of their relationship, even skipping months and years at a time until, suddenly, the two have moved on completely—somehow—and are confronted with one another merely by chance—which feels equally hammy—remaining amicable and engaged with one another. Whilst the actors themselves perform with an incredible sensitivity to naturalism, developing credible and textured profiles [as much as the text permits], this is rather compromised by the roboticism of the characters' lines, which fail to emulate natural speech patterns. For example, when explaining how stars work, we lose all sense of idiolect and idiosyncrasy and are presented with what feels as though textbook material: 'This instantaneous explosion causes…' Simply substituting a phrase like this for 'And then it explodes straightaway and causes…' will allow these rather sterile phrases in the text to feel more human and less like the transcription of a science lecture. In fact, the characters' speech types are notably inconsistent; idiolects fail to reveal themselves at all throughout. This lack of naturalism becomes a huge issue for this performance, and in multiple aspects, unaided by certain directorial decisions (director: Jessica Dromgoole). Transitions are notably unruly. It is clear that the actors have had no clear, decisive and meaningful instruction during these sequences, aimlessly heading to the edge of the stage, only to turn back again to commence the next scene, or, most disappointingly, failing to get into position before the lights go up. I would recommend simple blackouts for this performance which does not call for overly stylised transitional sequences; nevertheless, if the stylisation found at the beginning of the play is something the creatives wish to explore, these transitions offer a great opportunity to do so, to build a library of imagery exploring the relationship between the characters and thus enriching our understanding of them as well as adding flare, visual appeal, and stylistic continuity and coherency. Another thing that compromises naturalism has to do with mime. I mentioned that the organisation of theatrical properties was well-conceived, but how these properties are utilised is not so successful. To have the phones off, screens black, allows for destruction of illusion whereby audience members must suspend disbelief that the mobile phone that they can see is clearly turned off is actually a functioning mobile that the characters are using to converse. Turn them on; use real messages and calls. Otherwise, the actors naturally fall into a common miming trap: over-interaction. An example of how Swann fell into this is in his portrayal of Harry’s phone conversation with Tess wherein he believes she has hung up when she is, in fact, still on the line. With an iPhone, as soon as one takes the phone away from one’s cheek, the display relights and shows the call screen—or, at the very least, a green bar at the top of the phone screen to indicate that a call is currently active—and so, if Harry were, indeed, using this device in real life, he would not have had to interact with the phone as frenetically as Swann portrayed him to, tapping the screen continuously, miming as though searching for a hidden button or setting; he would know straightaway that Tess was still on the line. In this way, certain interactions with theatrical properties compromise naturalism. A similar, more alienating example is in Neads’s first solo scene wherein she is supposedly having a phone conversation with her friend whilst gathering herself together and retrieving her switched-off mobile phone when Harry calls her. Neads then starts to interact with the mobile phone, which has been hanging awhile from her neck by a lanyard, now holding it and using it differently than she had been doing hitherto. This communicates that the phone was off whilst it was hanging by her waist, especially given the blank screen. Decide either upon full mime, or use the properties appropriately; do not half-commit to the properties. Use working mobiles, toothpaste with the toothbrush, etc. Detailed items demanding effort and thought, such as the star map (which I recognised myself as an authentic product, enhancing my own appreciation of the play’s illusoriness) and the printed “Jam-Man” screenplay, were most effective for this reason—although, perhaps plain white paper would feel more authentic over coloured. This is still a very powerful, engaging and hilarious text, but these elements inhibit it from attaining greater integrity and refinement. Its lack of naturalism is a major concern. I would prioritise enhancing narrative and plot over these [perhaps more pedantic and] decorative concerns. The actors themselves perform with excellent credibility. Their chemistry is impeccable—the manner in which they interact with one another, shared eye contact, proximity, etc. They have a great grasp on their character intentions and motivations, performing accordingly and most accurately. I have little on which to critique them, beyond one moment: when Tess first describes how she is feeling, Neads stands straight, arms unmoving, staring forward; this is most unnatural. We usually, especially when expressing emotional content, shift our weight, bow our head and perform self-soothing actions whilst standing. Other than this, these are impressive and talented actors. The text makes wonderful use of theme and motif; has a well-structured, if fledgling and predictable, storyline; and presents very lovable characters with the aid of its impressive comedic integrity. The writer demonstrates an incredible familiarity with aspects of popular culture, particularly science-fiction works, and the intertextuality this offers successfully generates a sense of shared experience, engagement and comfort amongst the audience. As I mentioned above, this latter is its strong point, but my recommendation is to prioritise story and plot, particularly if such a hard-hitting storyline and powerful psychological result are desired, as appears to be the case. “A thoroughly enjoyable but incomplete performance.” This is a free review published publicly as part of my work as a freelance dramaturg offering support, training and guidance to theatremakers and live performance artists. To request your own review, which may also be published privately for an affordable price, contact me. Alternatively, find out more about the dramaturgy services I offer by clicking here.

Jeff Clarke's adaptation of this 1847 comic opera has a good number of seeds for a successful comedy but is much too convoluted and rushed. Excessive spectacularities and metatheatrical techniques do not progress but, instead, work against the narrative and world of the play. It is a pantomime, then an enclosed play, then a melodramatic opera…and thus has no consistent, reliable performance style. This is also true of the acting style: some actors perform to the audience; others, to each other. This is even the case between actor profiles: Paul Featherstone as Colonel Jeffries, for example, performs robotically—unnaturalistic and representative gesticulations with every line—facing the audience and delivering speech with a rising intonation as though to suggest and forbode something to the audience. As Reverend Lupin, however, his focus remains exclusively on the other characters, and his movements and vocal deliveries, though all consistent with his chosen profile, are sufficiently varied. It appears that Clarke has not yet decided whether he would like his audience to be 'terrified', as written in advertisements, and beguiled by and engaged in the horrific acts of his rather stoic and brute-like Sweeney (Nick Dwyer) or humoured by the ludicrousness and exaggerative of them and those of accompanying characters. It is clear that we are to understand Sweeney as a devilish, corrupt and entirely evil individual, unremorseful and a straight-to-the-point murderer, yet this is inconsistent with certain comedic inclusions—things like him miming opening/closing doors and hatches to the accompaniments of the orchestra. The actors themselves are, overall, incredibly talented and demonstrate excellent versatility and presence, but the consistency of their profiles is made impossible by the indecisive written material. Overall, vocal technique is excellent across the cast, with a particular emphasis on Madeline Robinson. I would just recommend focus be given to Nick Dwyer's diction, which is currently very poor both in speech and song. I mentioned the orchestra's sound effects. Whilst these were overplayed, they were most creative and could have developed a great sense of familiarity and texture to the performance in their repetition; however, they were often forgotten completely, with some actors simply entering/exiting the stage, uninhibited, particularly towards the beginning of the first act. Inclusions like this must be consistent in order to create a coherent and consistent world. These sound effects also distracted from more sinister or suspenseful moments, compromising momentum, with every character forced to take time out to perform the laborious mime. More significantly, we have inconsistencies in the plot itself—or, rather, meaningless items and events that are completely glossed over and forgotten. Some examples: Mrs Oakley (Caroline Kennedy) being locked in the cupboard; a blood-covered Thornhill (Matt Kellett) breaking free from the cellar [except, he actually, somehow, enters from the front door—yet another inconsistency], holding a knife; and finally, after an entire [lengthy] segment being dedicated to all of the characters' shared hatred of Reverend Lupin, we open the second act with them entertaining his and Cecily's (Lynsey Docherty) song, he is welcomed into the house with no concern, and all of the characters remain civil to him thereafter. There are plenty more of these examples. It is not until the very of the play that all of the various skits and subplots happen to finally coincide. Until then, these remain completely disparate and unmarriable to such an extent that any throughline is indiscernible. One would favour, with performances like this one, a distinct and grounding plotline from the very start of the performance over an endless series of unrelated [and rather silly] skits. Audience inclusion was particularly ill-addressed, as well, with marketing ploys encouraging the audience to interact, hiss, heckle, yet with the performance itself making no effort to employ and engage them. Dwyer had clearly not practised what he would say back to a heckling audience, given his repetitive responses and the extensive agency he permitted them. I mentioned above the partial propensity to perform towards the audience whilst other actors performed to each other, and this further complicates this issue and confounds audiences in regard to their function and levels of inclusion and agency. On the topic of the audience, I would pay significant attention to the most vocal of audience members and their responses: "This is bonkers," "I'm sorry it's not what we expected," and "That ending went on for far too long. Like, we get it—you played more than one role." Though, of course, I cannot speak wholly of an audience, it was unfortunate to experience the sheer number of dissatisfied but, most importantly, discombobulated audience members leaving the theatre. I would pay close attention and respond urgently to this reaction type. “A sketch of a performance; convoluted, inconsistent and confused.” This is a free review published publicly as part of my work as a freelance dramaturg offering support, training and guidance to theatremakers and live performance artists. To request your own review, which may also be published privately for an affordable price, contact me. Alternatively, find out more about the dramaturgy services I offer by clicking here.

NB: As the performer shares the same name as the onstage persona we are presented, 'Charlie Merriman' and, simply, 'Merriman' will be used to signify the former and 'Charlie' the latter. This is most enjoyable and engaging performance, directed by Helen Eastman and written and performed by Charlie Merriman. I find its main areas of concern, however, to be in the consideration of the inconsistency of its performance style and its themes. The first issue concerning style starts with Merriman being in the house as we enter the stage. This would be a wonderful way of breaking the audience-performer divide if Merriman divided his attention amongst the audience members equally, his presence thus seeming deliberate and meaningful, and not divided uniquely amongst a couple of familiar attendees. This could cause a sense of tension in the audience, rendering the environment hostile and unpredictable as they attempt to gauge whether this is, in fact, a performer as Merriman lingers around, not introducing himself yet restless and obstructive. Perhaps on a more primitive level, it could also develop a sense of favouritism amongst the ignored audience members and thus one of inferiority and, later, distance, particularly if this is prolonged. If a coherent, progressive and effective activity type or reason for having him on stage cannot be found to justify and embellish his presence, he should not be on stage as we enter. Concerns with metatheatricality develop only once again, however, when an audience member is invited to suggest an excuse as to why Charlie cannot attend his Zoom Zumba class tomorrow. This moment is not only stylistically inconsistent but also endangers momentum and pacing, as it did on the night I saw the performance, with Merriman surrendering agency to the audience and thus losing control and compromising the performance’s flow and rhythm in the process. In no other part of the performance is an audience member directly included in this way; this is a huge issue, destabilising the audience's understanding of their involvement. That this audience member's suggestion should then alter the plot, alter the conversation Charlie has with his new partner, adds an extra unwanted layer of metatheatre to the performance. We learn here that its plot is not concrete, untouchable, a historical 'reality'; we learn that Charlie's story is being 'made up as it progresses', and therefore we compromise the realism, authenticity and relatability of the narrative and character. And there are already concerns of superficiality with the plot that make this all the more problematic. However, beyond these moments, I must say that this is the most consistent performance I have seen in a while in terms of its employment of metatheatrical techniques beyond these I have mentioned so far. The audience, for the vast majority of the performance, are kept at a clear amount of distance and are permitted to maintain a promising, coherent [‘passive’] relationship. I would just urge the creatives to consider the consistency of the role and function of the audience within the performance, which are currently unstable: are we active participants, removed witnesses, silent addressees, etc.? This should be consistent for the best reception, and enjoyment, of the performance possible — we should know our place and what is expected of us as spectators. Merriman maintains a confident yet calm and amicable demeanour throughout the entirety of the performance, consciously witty, and consistent in his profile throughout. He has a great command of the text, and boldness when approaching the audience. I only have a few concerns insofar as his acting, but they are quite crucial ones: Firstly, Merriman must develop a greater corporeal and topographical awareness for this performance; currently, we have him frequently dropping props on the floor, knocking into some and breaking others: the coathanger that fell off the privacy screen, the arm of the pill's glasses, the dropped syringe, etc. I can only recommend greater practice of handling and retrieving the theatrical properties but also of the repeated sequences, upon which I shall elaborate below, for which choreography is performed shakily at present. Currently, there is also a lack of intensity during these sequences, and the resulting feeling is that there is a reliance upon the intensity and suspense of the sequences themselves as opposed to upon one that emanates from the performer. My advice would be to not rely on the theme of repetition, pacing and activity alone to develop a sense of tension; it feels far too artificial, deliberate and thus lacklustre. Tension should not be the end goal but a by-product of the presentation of concrete information about the character and their circumstances. It should exist naturally, authentically, organically, within the body and the mind of the actor, not too heavily adorned by topographical and choreographic specificities. Another example of this issue is in the aforementioned moment wherein an audience member was invited to disrupt the flow of the performance, making a statement found by the majority of the audience to be hilarious and enhancing. This was met with a degree of reserve, coolness and acceptance. Though he incorporated this into the story, clearly aware of its comedic effect, his delivery lacked a certain amount of impetus. This also brings me to my last concern regarding acting: I would urge in Merriman a greater receptivity of the audience. Here, if the audience found it so funny, he could both reclaim and enhance the hilarity of the moment by really exaggerating the delivery of the excuse on the phone, now made aware that this is something this particular audience will respond to and tailoring his delivery to their desire. Additionally, the ambit of his gaze is, for the most part of the performance, restricted to the top centre of the audience. If he were to scan the entire audience more regularly, a more authentic, profound and inclusive environment would be produced. Moving on from acting, there is also a notable attempt to connect together, and connect with, the audience in a spiritual and ritualistic deep-breathing exercise, and this is not only another example of why it is important that the audience must be aware of their function and role, but also an example of how the various comedic and dramatic techniques allow for a certain illegibility and inconsistency when paired together as they are throughout. With repetition being a recurrent technique, the audience naturally becomes hyper-attuned to rhythms and substructures, and we have already deep-breathed earlier in the performance, and we took three deep breaths and no more than three. Noting this and the fact that this performance has hitherto alleviated through comedic devices, and glossed over, any sense of profound emotion [namely here: trauma, struggle, pain, discomfort, fear, etc.], it seems unlikely that the audience would bother to take any more than these three deep breaths nor that they would do so with any profound reflections and feeling. Indeed, this was perceptible as Merriman delivered the line, “You can open your eyes now,” when the vast majority, if not all, of the audience had long already done so. Again, receptivity is key in moments like these. Sticking with this theme of dramatic vs comedic techniques, I reflect upon the post-performance debrief wherein Merriman expressed that the aim of this performance is to raise awareness of the potential of modern medicine, what new studies and research can achieve and how lives can be bettered for these. However, the revelation of a particular statistic — that those with cystic fibrosis also have an increased risk of developing cancer but, for their diminished life expectancy, rarely see this potentiality — is presented in such a way that a call for action becomes squashed by a fatalistic, pessimistic "Why bother?" attitude. Merriman conveys this thus: "Damned if you do; damned if you don't." I would recommend, in order to align better with this performance's main objective, that this wording be reconsidered and that a different approach be taken: "But that's a risk I'm willing to take" or "It's worth a shot" — something optimistic, empowering, encouraging of the new advancements that the audience are so desired to support and donate to. Pessimism rarely works as a call to action for an audience, and this is a comedy, after all, but I do understand that this tragic undertone was perhaps attractive to add a layer of depth, feeling and realism to the performance — this is unnecessary for this text, however. As for the comedic devices alone, some very intriguing and hilarious ones are being used, most notably puppetry. Puppetry sequences are most creative — from the puppet pills to the pillow and stuffed socks to communicate Charlie's sleeping. The sequences are also playfully educational and revealing, encapsulating well Charlie's personal history as well as medical specificities. There is just a tendency to over-rely upon comedic devices — especially repetition — and the substructures we are presented are in danger of becoming quite predictable and tiresome. Similarly, whilst repeated sequences are too long, fundamental storytelling techniques tend to be underused: we rush from skit to vignette to anecdote — complete with game shows, solo ballads, puppeteering, impersonations… — and the overall identity of the performance and its style becomes compromised. We have moments where Charlie starts to explain a story using one storytelling technique but proceeds with another, and the techniques fight for stage time: mime, choreographed sequences, monologues, the game shows. This should be re-examined, and a 'show OR tell' attitude should be employed in various areas. “A moving performance with honourable objectives and an inviting solo performer but with a degree of superficiality and inconsistency in style and mood.” Want a technical analysis for your own live performance? Private and public reviews are requestable by all London-based artists and for any live performance type. For more information, please click here. Artists from across the UK and the globe can also benefit from performance analyses as part of my dramaturgy service and can receive guidance, support and training in the form of consultations and/or workshops.

This performance is most impressive and effective in its narrative, focus and objectives. It is teeming with impressive talent from its young performers and is most thought-provoking. What is particularly impressive about this performance is that it blurs the lines between an individual's personal and social realities, exploring how trial by media, rumour and community can devastate the lives of the young, to whom identity and ego are still only fledgling concepts. Collective gaslighting, planted memories, soft evidence and widespread derision all play a role in devastating the reputations of the two characters and causing great divides amongst close friends — and perhaps also amongst an audience who, having no concrete evidence either way and perhaps emphasising the age of the characters, can easily be forced into vacillation over Aaron's (Harry Still) culpability in particular, given his extreme expressions of guilt and distress. One element that is most effective is that we as the audience are also encouraged to make assumptions based upon the limited evidence of video footage and spoken rumours. Whilst Lola (Mia Townsend) herself hardly remembers anything of the situation and whilst Aaron remains mostly silent throughout [which I am not sure is entirely efficacious here], it is easy as an audience to be mobilised by the hearsay and opinions expressed by surrounding characters. We see no concrete evidence to suggest anything incriminating, and even the outcome of the court hearing is left unexpressed. What is presented, however, is the blowup of news material and across social media. Throughout, what remains the prime focus of this performance is not the incident itself or the outcome of the resulting hearing, but the deteriorating self-esteems and social statuses and, ultimately, the lives of these two individuals. We are constantly reminded of their pain, trauma, distress and hopelessness as friends betray them and downplay their experiences and as trust is blurred. There is a particular sequence worth noting that is, in a good way, awkward and uncomfortable, really driving home the sentiment that the incident is being exaggerated: we are forced into an act of voyeurism, observing Aaron and Lola as they undress before us down to their underwear, one on each side of the stage. There is a strong and effective connotation here. As voyeurs, we observe their partially clad bodies sharing a space during a completely innocent activity but understand that this also could perhaps be initially misconstrued as a strange, uncomfortable or inexplicable provocative display. We also are forced, in this way, to sexualise and to potentially prejudge and damn the two for this innocent activity, as the community may have done. I should note, though, that Lola keeping her jogging bottoms on for a court hearing, paired with a frilly blouse, does compromise authenticity and realism here. The resulting visual is most bizarre. However, there is a slight imbalance in the focus given to the two characters. We see how Lola is affected a lot more than we do Aaron. Only this aforementioned scene wherein we see his breakdown and, somewhat, the lateral movement sequence involving him really present his involvement in his own story. Conversely, in every scene in which Lola is present, she demonstrates explicitly her opinions, feelings and responses, either of her own accord or in response to the snide or comforting remarks of her friends. Perhaps if this imbalance is desired, for some reason, this could make way for another exploration for this text: how young boys do not express such extreme negative emotions and experiences of trauma so freely in comparison to young girls, that their experiences are perhaps ignored, forgotten or negated more readily, also. This would need to be a more explicit exploration, however, and this is currently not an expressed object of study or focus of the performance. Away from the text (writing and direction by Gary Grant), which I shall emphasise is most impressive and well-conceived, and on to the performance itself and its style. I understand that there is a desire, particularly early on in the performance, to bombard the audience with incomplete and suggestive evidence and also to highlight how innocent and passing comments can be extracted from conversations and used against individuals in police investigations. This is desired to be achieved through a series of techniques and devices, but the resulting aesthetic is simply too overwhelming, and the play loses its structure, coherency and, ultimately, its identity and artistic integrity. There is a sheer clash of styles and climaxes: stylisations (freeze-frames and tableaux vivants), naturalist representation, fragmentation, flashbacks and flashforwards, chronological presentation, the presentation of audio recordings and films… There is simply no clear-cut identity for this performance, and this is right at the very beginning, when the performance type should, with performances like this, be immediately clear. There are also far too many moments of silence in this performance, and this is due to a lack of activity, which is sometimes deliberate and sometimes notably avoidable. Deliberate because of the frequent use of tableaux or passive choral presence, and avoidable because there are too many moments where other characters of secondary importance in scenes are simply stood or sat without purpose and intent — to call upon one example. Freeze-frames, in particular, are the greatest cause for concern in regard to this stasis, and I would really recommend against them for this performance — or, at least, for the time being until pacing is sharpened. I shall elaborate on pacing first. Mostly an issue with tech operation but also a directorial, actor-led and even cinematographic one, pacing is compromised regularly in this performance by awkward interstitial stops: prolonged waiting between freeze-frames and audio clips; between the end of a video and lights-up, and then between this and the action continuing after a freeze-frame; the wait for the next scene to continue when the first has been interrupted; etc. Particularly for this aforementioned bombardment to be effective — though, again, I would discourage the use of such a sheer array of styles — we need rapid succession, precise timing. Do not wait for the lights to come up to break a freeze-frame and start moving; be prepared and in motion already to look less artificial and not so deliberate when the lights come up. Projections should stop immediately upon the end of a video, not remain on the last frame for a few seconds before turning off. Transitions are also rather messy and too slow due to the sheer number of theatrical properties to re-/organise, despite the actors’ attempt to be as speedy as possible. However, this speediness also looks unprofessional and unrefined: rushing, running, throwing props into place, and then instantly stopping in frozen positions waiting for the lights; Lola crying, still, sat down, and then running off stage as soon as the lights start to dim [and have not yet been fully extinguished]; etc. Topography of the stage should be reconsidered to coincide with the urgency and freneticism desired for the performance style, or I would recommend ensuring a better incorporation of darkness and the interactions between stage lights and the human eye if transitions are to be kept thus. With pacing being amiss in this performance in this way, freeze-frames add an extra unwanted choppiness and fragmentation to the performance. It would be far more tolerable and impressive if pacing was refined, yes; it would invest the performance with a sense of urgency and modernity. However, it over-stylises the performance, which is already suffocating with stylisation. Ultimately, when we stylise objects of study in performance, we draw attention away from the reality of the object itself and towards the manner in which it is presented, the mood surrounding it or produced by the stylisation itself; in this sense, we distance our audience from a connection with the actual object being presented and compromise emotional identification. This type of stylisation, freezeframes, encapsulates a story or narrative or forces our attention to linger upon what would otherwise be a fleeting, negligible moment. It simply presents a vignette, tells a story; it does not allow us to connect and feel, and this is a performance dependent upon audience feeling, passion and emotional investment. Whilst I find the lateral movement sequences beneficial — because we are able to home in on Aaron and Lola and to experience in real-time their progressing emotions and reactions to the developing gossips and betrayals, constantly freezing scenes, especially so early on in the performance, takes us out of the reality and world of the play and compromises our emotional connections with the characters. “A most impressive text portrayed by great young talent but stylistically confused in performance.” Want a technical analysis for your own live performance? Private and public reviews are requestable by all London-based artists and for any live performance type. For more information, please click here. Artists from across the UK and the globe can also benefit from performance analyses as part of my dramaturgy service and can receive guidance, support and training in the form of consultations and/or workshops.

This was an enjoyable performance tackling a sensitive topic, written and directed by Peter Todd and staged at the Brockley Jack Studio Theatre. The first issue that comes to mind, which I see more and more often nowadays as a theatre critic, is the performance’s inconsistency in style. For this performance, there are two main concerns in this regard: mood, and narrative style. I shall start with the former. It was most surprising, after discovering that our main character might not wake from her surgery, to see a nurse (Proshanto Chanda) using a hairdryer to warm her hypothermic body whilst blabbering on about his holidays. From this moment on, all seriousness and gravity is taken from the play and replaced with an exaggerative comedy, unrealistic and caricatural. Perhaps the intention here was to alleviate the tensions created amongst the audience by Sadie’s (Juliette Imbert) circumstances…if so, why? This change in mood is simply confounding and entirely destructive to the world of the play being built heretofore. It destroys any empathy we have been developing for Sadie, complicates style and mood, and also conveys a sharp degree of insensitivity about the sensitive topic at hand, which is the exact opposite of what is intended here. On to the latter. It is interesting to learn that the idea that originated this play was what I shall refer to henceforward as ‘the MRI movement sequence’ and surprising to see that this gave birth to a play text. Indeed, situated in a dialogue-heavy performance, this sequence seems most disjointed from the rest of the play, but it does have considerable potential in its own right. The use of the LED wands representative of the scanner is most creative and original. In terms of this choreography itself, I would note that this sequence is far too long and thus loses its efficacy in what become mundane/unoriginal and somewhat irrelevant movements: Sadie slow-motion walking whilst the doctors rush around her, or hurrying for an exit, blocked by them and retreating, and so on. I would have liked to see, rather than these more esoteric, interpretive and body-focused movements, a more symbolic and narrative-based approach; I think this would have been more appropriate for this particular performance. One method to achieve this, for example, would have been a better incorporation of the red ball into the sequence, being symbolic of the button Sadie could press to alert the medical professionals that she would like to stop the procedure prematurely. But even this in itself is discontinuous, as Sadie, in actual fact, never signals for the procedure to be stopped, as far as we know, so why the movements with the red ball, those that hold power in ultimately ending the choreography? Additionally, that the sequence should be broken by a voiceover of the doctor repeating the symptoms that she may encounter before the scan…whilst we are halfway through watching the scan take place…is equally discontinuous. Having the doctors represented as aloof, uncompassionate, opportunistic and somewhat secretive is fitting with the narrative we are presented elsewhere, but the repeated looks they share amongst themselves, Sadie's victimisation by them, and having them appear as stubborn, villainous obstacles is quite incongruous. To emphasise and clarify: this is exactly why I believe the cat-and-mouse games of Sadie rushing to escape and the doctors blocking her are unsuitable here. On the topic of the inconsistency of the representation of the doctors in the movement sequence vs the rest of the play: additionally, there is an inconsistency within the latter alone. In particular, Leah O’Grady has a peculiar challenge with the role of Dr Kinsella, and it is unsurprising, given the incoherency in the text, that the profile she presents is ultimately not credible. Dr Kinsella’s language in the written text is sterile, erudite; her speech is active, and she fails to communicate as doctors should: using simple language and presenting empathetically. Then, suddenly, at the end of every one of her scenes, she demonstrates compassion, personal investment, and breaks this sterility of their particularised doctor–patient divide. I should also note here the decision to have the actors multi-role. Overall, the cast members have great vitality and a good command on their roles, and so it is surprising that Chanda, for example, was not chosen to represent the surgeon portrayed by Elise Busset. Sadie’s sister, whom Busset plays, is a primary character, and so having Busset portray this character and the surgeon, who furthermore refers to Sadie’s sister as an entirely different character, allows for semiotic confusion, unwanted metatheatricality and hence audience distancing, and, ultimately, another destruction of illusion — illusion being vital for performances like this that demand psychological realism and emotional audience–performer connection. For this reason, I would recommend Chanda play the role of this surgeon, though I can perceive a propensity of his towards more comedic characters than this serious one, so perhaps this was the reason behind this decision. Despite an adequate performance from all actors, there is a certain lack of urgency across the cast: muscular tension, vitality, transformativity, etc. With this call for multi-roling, I should really emphasise the importance of transformativity, in particular. Characters are simply not distinguished enough, or, when they are, new characters are presented far too caricaturally to distinguish them from previous profiles. This caricaturisation adds an undesirable layer of comedy. Overall, we struggle to find the happy medium between clown-like caricaturisation and a serious and rather stoic naturalism. Lack of muscular tension is particularly noticeable in the MRI movement sequence, with choreography being performed rather routinely.. Corporeal awareness is also note-worthy in this performance, specifically in the opening scene. I hope to be right in my assumption that Busset spilling her beer was not planned, given its clumsy and dangerous effects. What followed was a beyond excellent ad libitum from Imbert and Busset, but especially from Imbert in urging as Sadie that her sister remember that she now has a food waste bin. Excellent de-escalation of the situation, with the actors lingering calmly on stage as though nothing untoward had occurred. However, of course, this should have been avoided altogether with better corporeal awareness. I always recommend for actors daily practice in tuning the body, re-/discovering it, to avoid such onstage mishaps. Control and agency over the body, which has desires and reflexes of its own that must be managed at all times, are key. As for the writing itself, the story does feel notably rushed. We do not have sufficient time to form an emotional connection with Sadie, and whilst the whirlwind deterioration of her life is promising in theory, it is currently written to be the main point of focus over Sadie herself, i.e. the story focuses on how life acts upon her as opposed to how she is acted upon by life. A slight nuance, but this focus takes us away from the individual and their story, their suffering, and towards a mere recital of events wherein a character is a simple means of representation of the ‘every person’ and not a particularised individual with whom we can deeply connect and empathise. “An enjoyable performance aiming to tackle various areas of interest but without a cohesive vision.” Want a technical analysis for your own live performance? Private and public reviews are requestable by all London-based artists and for any live performance type. For more information, please click here. Artists from across the UK and the globe can also benefit from performance analyses as part of my dramaturgy service and can receive guidance, support and training in the form of consultations and/or workshops.

The set for this performance is certainly memorable for its efficient simplicity and naturalistic quality. It is abundant with the characters’ personal items and has a practical feel, allowing for a great amount of interactivity and hence dimension and liveliness. However, the set was not particularly used to its full potential — most memorably, the microwave not being powered, allowing for a unique sense of mime not implemented elsewhere in the performance, but most significantly, the repetitiveness of the set interactions we see. Interactions, whilst somewhat attractive in their mundaneness, representing the humdrum daily actions of the bored and lonely characters, are incomplete or illogical: making bagel sandwiches and food that are never eaten, applying makeup to an already made-up face, pouring drink after drink and rarely actually drinking from the glasses, etc. From the repetition of these actions comes also a lack of clarity in time of day: we are to deduce that the play starts on a Friday night, with their coming back home from outside, Shelley Rivers (playing Woman) in work attire, but beyond this, we know nothing of when exactly the action is taking place. I find it strange also that we are to understand the set as both of the characters’ respective homes depicted simultaneously, yet the characters regularly interact with the very same theatrical properties, despite there being many others with which they could do so, and in the same way. It would be good to see the characters interact with their own, unique properties that share a performative symbolic space but that are clearly, markedly theirs and only ever interacted with by them, much like Man's (Markus Sodergrens) photograph was — the only prop utilised and addressed in such an intimate and personal way. Conversely, the characters did end up locked into certain remits of the stage, outlining in this way their respective symbolic territories. This could have been more effective if it was organised more deliberately, however, with the characters having clear and cogent reasons for remaining in these said areas. I did really enjoy that the characters were separate from one another. That they were in different physical spaces was clear from the very beginning, with the lack of interaction between them and their shared ignorance. However, this was equal parts effective and irritating, with the significance of this being underwhelming. On a similar note, ambit of gaze is a major issue in this performance, with Sodergren addressing the audience directly when signing and Rivers staring into the void above their heads. This imbalance causes for both stylistic inconsistency and disruption in the modes of audience reception. With the songs being used as a storytelling device of sorts, presenting a direct-speech narrative in their lyrics, it is odd that only one character [Sodergren’s] should be approaching the audience, encroaching vaguely on their territory, sat at the edge of the stage, and addressing them individually, seeking eye contact. Perhaps this was an actor-led decision as opposed to a directorial (Robert McWhir) one, however. When it comes to vocal performance, both Rivers and Sodergren have wonderful, melodic voices, and vibrato is achieved well, overall, but diction is a major concern for both — as is volume, particularly on higher notes. Whilst diction is the most significant issue for Sodergren, Rivers must train to have better strength behind her voice when achieving higher notes. Harmonies, unfortunately, are not achieved at all throughout the performance, with the exemption of the finale. Indeed, seeing the performers themselves not melding together in song, the lack of crossover between the characters is over-intensified, which is a shame, as it would be beneficial to see that the characters are united in this, at least — their ‘inner voices’, their sentiments and their nature, and their manners of expression intimately similar. A few notes lost for both performers, but a satisfactory vocal performance, overall. This remains one of Sondheim’s least impressive texts — admittedly a subjective response on my behalf — demanding an exaggerativeness to be fully engaging, one that we only glimpse in a few sequences — Sodergren’s ‘bang bang’s and Rivers's ‘stripping’ sequence, namely. I would certainly recommend further work on comedic timing and further intensity in physicality here to make the sassier or more idiosyncratic moments punchier. Characterisation takes second place to the focus on the vocals, leading to a certain genericism and lack of depth. “A watchable performance but lacking in originality, vigour and stylistic consistency.” Want a technical analysis for your own live performance? Private and public analyses are requestable for any live performance type. For more information, please click here. Artists from across the UK and the globe can also benefit from performance analyses as part of my dramaturgy service and can receive guidance, support and training in the form of consultations and/or workshops.

Regular study is very important to me, not only for my art and practice but for my spiritual side. I have an indefatigable desire to learn about anything and everything, from astronomy to entomology to linguistics to mathematics, and to refresh my knowledge on a consistent basis. So, where do I do all of this fabulous studying, you ask!? What a wonderful and unexpected question! And one that might reveal some study locations that you have yet to consider! The British Library Honestly, I’ve only recently discovered this gem, just a little walk from St Pancras Station…but I’m now obsessed! If I could, I’d move to a world where midnight study and work were commonplace, where everyone woke to the sudden dark of the twilit sky, wide-eyed, busy and ready for the night; where we all hissed at the rising sun and cowered away to shadowy corners at the shatter of dawn. BUT, much to my dismay, it’s been horrendously assumed that we humans are, in fact, diurnal creatures, and I’ve consequently been sorely lumped into the category of day-loving human being amongst the rest of you who are just as sad as me about the whole thing! Studying until 8:00 PM on a weekday is the closest I’ll ever get now, since my 24/6 university library days, to this sublime vampiric fantasy, and that’s why The British Library is a perfect place for me. It’s also the sweet treasurer of rare and unique texts that, usually, only current university students might peruse at their respective institutions’ libraries… Originally, I was actually forced to this library when a desire to refresh my knowledge of Étienne Decroux’s Promethean Mime led me kicking and screaming away from The National Art Library, whose Blythe House’s recent relocation meant that many rare books from the ‘Theatre & Performance’ section were currently unavailable, and towards The British Library’s gargantuan doors. Indeed, the British Library, my saccharine salvation, possessed this strange and peculiar text, Les Paroles sur le mime, and my study days were promptly saved! Besides university libraries, this and the National Art Library were the only libraries accessible to the public (well, to registered readers) that actually had it. Otherwise, I would have had to pay £250 for a single, tattered old copy I had found available online… I love Decroux, but he’s not worth the money, I’m afraid. This was one of many quasi-adventures upon which I would, and still do, find myself embarking here. That pithy cliché of ‘there’s nothing like sitting down to read a book’ rather hits hard in a place like this. Indeed, there’s nothing like reading Antonin Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty from an old, seemingly occult book, dishevelled and browning, its spine nonexistent, its cover decked with geometric and esoteric illustrations, fragilely preserved and presented to the reader in a sturdy envelope in fear of its eventual disintegration. An enchanting, sensory and visceral way to experience a text on an artform and its power! Beckenham Place Park Semi-recently revamped, my local park is a definite must on autumnal afternoons. Familiar to the inquisitive squirrels I befriended during lockdown and fond of the annual coot chicks gracing the waters of the expansive lake, it’s easy for me to find myself lost in the busy beauty of nature in this park. For me, to discover that a small spider, beetle or fly has been sharing a tabletop with my book or iPad, or my very seat on the bench in the shade of a familiar cedar tree, affords me a special and homely form of peace, serenity and pleasure. Not-so-secret fact about me: I HATE being out in the sun, despite being branded as a "Summer baby" with my birthday being in mid-July (Midsummer in the UK) – and no, it's never too early or late to send me birthday gifts, thank you for asking! ANYWAY! Because I hate being out in the sun, or, specifically, in any heat above my official limit, 12º C, leaving the comfort of my electrical fan that gets a wonderful all-year-round usage, to sit outside in nature's furnace is not particularly appealing, admittedly. Hence, visiting this park for study purposes does tend to be an autumnal or hibernal activity, unless definite shade can be promised and sought! Otherwise, Spring and Summer here are frequently a beautiful haven. It's easy to get a taste of the old, wild world of luscious green grass, meadows and hills in this park; to get a glimpse of the forest and of undisturbed nature. An old mansion and stable, now turned community centre and café, have often tempted me, too! I have yet to try thee vegan ice cream and pizza, but I shall get to it ASAP, I promise! National Theatre Now, this one has always been a keen favourite of mine! Whenever I visit the National Theatre, I’m overwhelmed with a certain nostalgia, nonnegotiably entering into conversation with my memories of visiting as an avid theatre-loving teenager, making the most of the Entry Pass Membership offered, to this day, to young people up to the age of 25. Used to be £5 a ticket! Bargain! I would devour up to three plays in one day on a regular, sometimes even daily, basis, seeing a huge range of performances from all-day Chekhov to Alice in Wonder.land and The Threepenny Opera — performances that immediately and sweetly come to mind. It was at this theatre, in what we referred to as ‘The Shed’ (AKA The Temporary Theatre — aptly named) that I first felt the transformative power of didactic theatre for myself, with one particular performance that left a palpable mark upon my teenage self, a mark I am left with today. The performance was Blurred Lines, and perhaps I’ll write properly about that at a later date… It was also here that I attended my first-ever press night as a theatre critic, being asked to review my all-time favourite play, Hedda Gabler by Henrik Ibsen. It's a review that I dare not look back on now, with my hopefully maturer and more seasoned critical eyes, but a fond memory, nevertheless, and an EXCELLENT and special springboard into theatre criticism for me! (But my resistance to look back over that review shouldn't stop YOU, you inquisitive thing! Go see how The Performance Critic has evolved over the years! Click here!) Back on topic! More about theatre and my experiences in a later post… As you can tell, this theatre has had a great influence on my development as an artist, as it has upon a great number of many others. Because I associate it so heavily with these experiences, however, it is here that I turn to theatre and performance studies almost exclusively. It feels fitting, and we do love an appropriate and all-cohesive aesthetic. Eavesdropping into the conversations of other regular theatre-making visitors and even some vocal staff members, this continues to be a place of inspiration and theatre-themed buzz. I also write plays and texts here and, more recently, meet with artists from various backgrounds to discuss and develop projects together. The Café at Foyles Admittedly, I'm in two minds about this one… As you may have noticed, I do love a good ol' academic text! I also find myself able to study in busy and lively places as well as in more peaceful ones. In fact, I think I gravitate far more towards the bustling crowd-filled areas than I do the silent, "tranquil" ones. So, The Café at Foyles is a great place for that. The ambience of the pottering waiters eagle-eyeing the sea of tables to clear the mounting crockery as required; highly strung professionals grabbing their coffees and cakes to sit poised over their laptops, focused and stressed; the cashiers tapping on the tills, grabbing change and pouring teas; and the general knowledge that on the other side of that balcony, down a small flight of stairs is an abundance of books, of documented thoughts and ponderings, CDs and vinyls, DVDs and games… It’s these warming vignettes of life that make a space like this so special and endearing to me. I said I was in two minds about this one, because, whilst it’s a lovely space to study, it’s not ultimately intended for such use. You have to buy something, especially if a café manager is on the prowl…and I don’t want to HAVE to buy a cake, snack or drink every time I visit…I’m a very stingy person! Fortunately for me, my boyfriend does like to buy things! And he also loves to study — or at least, if he has nothing specific he wants to study at the time, he’s happy to accompany me and share our existence whilst I do my thing! Hence, this is usually the spot I go with him when we both have something to work on and when we both desperately want to see and be with each other but have a lot going on in our independent lives to which we need to dedicate some time. When we visit here, I’ll usually have a theatre review I need to write and get to doing that before the studying begins! Bromley Central Library Another study space close to home, I use Bromley Central Library for two things, mainly: its computers and its semi-secret booths downstairs, complete with handy plug sockets. If I’ve got a theatre review that I need to get done and don’t have much time in which to do it, the two-hour limit on the IT suite's computers is the perfect limitation to channel my focus and get a review out of me quickly. I could write thousands of words on all the things I identify within any one given play, and the time constraint here really forces me to be as concise as possible, so that I can dedicate more of my time to my own projects! Otherwise, I tend to study film/photography and Shakespeare here, specifically. Having photographed the wildlife in the neighbouring park, it’s a good place to turn to immediately afterwards to reflect upon the images I’ve just captured. Turning to books on cinematography/photography, either from the library itself or those that I’ve brought with me specially, I can remind myself of some grounding theories and criticism to consider how these coincide or contrast with the work I’ve just produced. I might also turn to MasterClass videos or recorded lectures for this same purpose, instead. Ironic to what I wrote above about enjoying a busy study space, those booths downstairs at the back of the building, tucked out of sight under the stairs, allow for a sense of complete isolation. Perhaps better considered a pod than a booth, I initially thought their existence would have been rather uncommon knowledge, but it turns out I have to arrive early, before any schoolchildren especially, otherwise they get snatched up FAST! Still, when they’re not within the clawing grasp of a fellow bookworm, they’re a peaceful and somewhat futuristic retreat. With their oddly shaped staircase-roofs and gleaming white tables, it’s easy to feel you’ve acquired an enticing glimpse of a Smart future! Well, there we have it! As was your fondest desire, a list of my favourite go-to study spaces! I hadn’t considered before writing this entry how each of these individual spaces calls forth a different, specific study type, so that was an interesting revelation for me! Of course, there are times when I’ll study something altogether different in each of these spaces, but I clearly associate some special study moments with each of these locations. I do frequent some other spaces too, but perhaps they’re less interesting…maybe I’ll drop them a mention in a later entry. Who knows?! Nonetheless, I hope that gave you an enchanting insight into what you were palpably desperate to know about me! Until next time! Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

To support artists towards the end of the pandemic, and to develop my own thinking and practice in training, I am currently offering my services as a freelance dramaturg for free* to first-time clients for up to an entire hour! As a freelance dramaturg, I offer support, guidance and advice on all of the following: For more information on this professional service, and to book your free* two-hour consultation, click here! * Consultations are free for the first hour and for first-time clients only and are offered on the condition that a written testimonial be provided at the end of your session. Consultations longer than one hour and those organised for returning clients are priced at the normal rates listed on this webpage. LINKS To find out about all of the professional services I offer, please click here. And for critical writings on theatre, please click here. Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

Please note: this is a personal public journal; the following words and opinions are my own, and I have not been commissioned or sponsored to write this entry or to advertise this charity and its work. I recently had the absolute HONOUR of working as a freelance photographer for FRIEND Farm Animal Sanctuary in time for their new campaign intending to inform audiences and visitors about the needs and lives of their older animal residents. I managed to produce forty-seven photographs altogether for the sanctuary to use, and the experience left me feeling so moved and inspired that I felt the need to share their work with you all. I am told that the sanctuary is home to over 150 animals, from turkeys to pigs to goats to cows. All of these animals have been rescued from extreme abuse and from their deaths and now can live out the rest of their lives in utter peace and harmony, forming strong and palpable relationships with one another that would otherwise be next to impossible. For the ageing population of animals here, rarely seen alive beyond single-digit ages and yet now over twenty years of age, the horrific ramifications of human intervention and genetics play need to be prevented or, at the very least, eased, if prevention is not possible. This is what this sanctuary aims to do, to protect and nurture these rescued animals as well as to provide them with a constant home and haven, and it does so wonderfully. But it can't do it alone. These animals, living, sentient and passible beings who experience suffering and love just as we do and perhaps even more readily, need the public's help, need your help. Having been so genuinely touched not only by the animals but by the informed, committed and conscientious sanctuary workers and volunteers who take to educating the public so patiently, passionately and lovingly, I could not recommend this sanctuary enough for the charity to whom your donations should go. The workers, and animals, would really benefit from and be warmed by your help. It was so inspiring to see so many beautiful, beautiful animals homed, safe, calm and respected, enjoying the summer glow and eating the proper, healthy food they deserve and for no other reason than to nourish their own bodies, as opposed to being fattened for human consumption. So, if you could donate, please do! Alternatively, help out by attending the sanctuary's many festivals and events held throughout the year! Above and below are some of the photographs I took for the sanctuary. If you would like your own professional photographs to promote your charity or animal-based business, get in touch to book your own photoshoot by clicking on the 'Contact Me' button (three-dot icon for mobile viewers) on the bottom-right of your screen. For more information on the service, click here. Please note: not all photoshoots offered to businesses and charities are free; free photoshoots are offered at Lee James Broadwood's discretion and depend upon the size and nature of your business. LINKS To visit FRIEND Farm Animal Sanctuary's website: please click here. To donate to FRIEND Farm Animal Sanctuary to help them with their current vet bill, please click here. To find out more about my freelance photography service and to book your own photoshoot: please click here Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.