I am delighted to announce my next directing job — this time, a Georges Feydeau farce, to be staged in London in March 2023! After a wonderful series of auditions from a dynamic range of committed and inspired actors, we have now finished preliminary rehearsals, having worked on ensemble chemistry, textual analysis and characterisation! We're now moving into Phase 2 of the operation! Bringing the actual play to life! And I couldn't be happier and prouder with the amazing work my actors are doing so far! Make sure you’re subscribed to this website to be notified whenever more information about this spectacular performance is released — it’s definitely going to be worth the watch! I shall be sure to post rehearsal footage and images to my Instagram, too! @ljbroadwood Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

I am delighted to announce that I had the honour recently of working with an amazing crew as a production assistant on an upcoming two-hour horror feature, The Haunting of the Lady-Jane by Kemal Yildirim! The shoots took me to the town of Northampton where I stayed with a warm and welcoming crew of super talented individuals to film on a disused railway, in a country bookstore, a café, a family garden, on a bus, and in a church — and it’s worth mentioning here that squeezing a Black Magic, dedolights and a haze machine into a confessional booth certainly has its challenges…! I would like to thank director Kemal Yildirim and actress/producer Natasha Linton for involving me in this wonderful project, contracting me to work in lighting and set dressing, to manage contracts and paperwork and background performers. From slating to props management, this project was a glorious one in which to be involved! The film has now been finally released, and it was so lovely to see the reactions of the cast and crew! A special team of which to have been part. Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

I have seen theatre quite literally every day for many years, and I can honestly say that this is one of the best performances — if not the best — that I have seen in a long time. Grace Church (playing Frills) and Chloe Young (playing Spills) are comedy geniuses, sharp, bold and spirited, and their work here is intelligent, exhilarating and inspired. The characters of Frills and Spills satirise the social conceptions of the upper class, condemning the disenfranchised and the unprivileged in a fashion most laughably self-referential and self-demeaning. From their excessive consumption of croquembouche to their overly lavish attire, Frills and Spills critique relationships between and manifestations of power, privilege and pleasure. Their acts are positively outlandish, garish and, above all, disturbing. The material is presented in such a manner that classist ideals and abuse of social advantage are dehumanised and satirised, made laughable and mockable, and visual inspirations taken from the Georgian era make this all the more readable. Church and Young have definitely mastered the grotesque, from their strange sexual proclivities towards one another to their eating trampled treats off of the floor and wiping vomited food onto one another’s cheeks. These monstrously self-indulgent acts of gluttony, pride, entitlement and narcissism make the vision all the more riveting and beguiling, brutalising and extremifying the characters and their sociocultural representations to a most sensational degree. It is clear that there are elements of this performance that are improvised, as expected by a performance that plays off of its audience in such a way, and this brings a most personal feel to the show. The ending, in particular, wherein the audience are asked if they would like things to remain “as they are”, with Spills in charge over Frills, or if Frills should take back the reins instead, is most successful in regard to this. Combining their sheer hesitance towards — nay resistance against — our decision with an uneasy “Oh…right…we’ve never done this before…erm”, we get the impression that Spills remaining in charge is an exclusive only for us, that perhaps other audiences choose or are forced to see Spills regain her superiority, instead. I am sure that this ending is very much desired, even engineered, but the possibility of another ending produces a sense of specialness and intimacy, which is most fruitful. This is emphasised, of course, by the audience-specific interactions that occur, tailoring each performance to each evening. This performance is truly almost perfect. Thus, the comments I make below are not so much details of what was unsuccessful or ineffective [as there was very little that was so, in my opinion] but, rather, minor critiques on how existing features could be even sharper and richer. There are often moments between routines where the performers stay deliberately still, staring out into the audience, either shocked, stupefied, overly offended or in absolute awe of themselves or what they have just done. These moments of tension, existing both physically within the bodies of the performers and socially within the room, are most fruitful, as this sense of inertia, ambiguity and discomfort intensifies the creepy, unpredictable and inhuman feel about the two characters, enthralling us all the more when these tensions are relieved. However, I would note with importance that there must always be a sense of animation (moving eyes, extremities, etc.), and a sense that something is definitely to come next but that we are just temporarily halted in the moment. Otherwise, the tension loses this effect of relief, for we are stuck in the moment for too long and settle there unwillingly, or we feel as though the action has been prematurely inhibited, rather than paused. One certainly does get the impression at times, though rarely, as though the performers are thinking about what to do next or, worse, have forgotten such. A simple remedy: either make some of these moments shorter or make sure to constantly animate these moments so as to produce an effect of suspense and tension, noting that becoming physically tenser and tenser is also a form of animation. Related to this, momentum is permitted to fall in places — again, usually in-between routines. I would urge the performers to make sure that there is constantly something happening, some sense of business if not pure chaos. This relationship between business and chaos — over chaos and vacuity — is crucial to a performance like this; it must always be moving, progressing, fluid, never inhibited. Coming out of character and laughing at oneself becomes much too customary to these performers, particularly to Church. In small doses, this plays on the absurdity of the performance, reminding us of the performers behind the characters, of their unboundedness to these actions but their strange volition to execute them anyway, and of how wild, bewildering and whacky the events of the performance are in comparison to the accepted norm. For this reason, it is permissible to come out of character a good few times, but Church comes out of character during almost every skit, and this is less productive. I must admit that there are two routines that stand out to me as the weakest, and these are the ‘British tea’ routine and the fighting routine. This former is adequate until the two characters break out in song, and then it proceeds to lose vigour. I would recommend scrapping this song completely, as it feels far too repetitive and rather as though a simple filler where a song fills required. Stage fighting is very difficult to get right, and if one or two movements look too unrefined, forceless or noncommittal, the entire fighting sequence can be compromised. I am afraid that the vast majority of movements in this routine seemed particularly hesitant or yielding. A lot more commitment and verve are required here. The use of sound effects which typically accompany clown fighting could certainly be of benefit here as well, over-fictionalising and farcifying the action. A good example of where these are needed in this routine would be where Frills whacks Spills over the head with a dish, a moment seeming rather unimpactful and lacklustre without some sort of intensification. In fact, I am surprised that sound effects are not used in this routine, given that the appropriate sound effects do accompany Frills’s miming shooting a rifle. Where sound effects are used like this, however, and as far as music and the more simple lighting goes, the use of tech is more than facilitative. These few comments aside, there is very little else to say other than that this is a most enchanting and wonderful performance. Lecoq’s training once again proves itself victorious, but Stumble Trip Theatre have definitely made both their characters and material their own. Frills and Spills remain throughout excellent and cogent presentations of social thinking, right until they are blatantly stripped down (quite literally) to nothing but a sordid and peculiar master-slave duo. The two are garish, volatile, unpredictable and grotesque yet remain legible and clearcut throughout, tantalising us with a most demented and uncanny yet moreish clownery. Even set and costume remain utterly undependable and whimsical, set allowing for the production of more and more items from behind seemingly too small a folding screen, and costume always changing its image and form. I must note here that costume is most remarkable in Spills’s overjoyed “burlesque” routine in which she strips herself liberally of her maid attire and, ecstatic and cheeky, produces never-ending hankies from her perky-to-sagging breasts. A wonderful example of the absolutely wild tomfoolery this performance is capable of. If only more theatre was as intellectually and hedonistically stimulating. “A stupendous and inspired piece of theatre; an absolute must-see!”

The day has finally come! That’s right, my YouTube channel is here! Video essays, photography and writing tutorials, podcast episodes, painting time-lapses, film reviews, film and theatre history videos, even recipe recommendations, Q&As and vlogs — the whole lot! So, check your favourite interdisciplinary artist out on YouTube by clicking here! Don’t forget to subscribe! And whilst you’re at it, why not challenge to see how hard you can smack the notification bell on its unsuspecting nose?! Let me know how many decibels you manage to rack in! Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

If social media is your jam — or marmalade, though I personally prefer a vegan chocolate spread — then head over to Instagram and give this impressive artist you love so much a nice and friendly follow! @LJBroadwood It’s a great way to stay fascinated by my photography and to be the first to know whenever those juicy theatre reviews are published! It’s free! Treat yourself! @LJBroadwood Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

I thought I’d take the time to respond to an exposing list of questions and prompts about me so that you can get to know me better! What a treat! Age? Currently, I am 24, though I suspect this will change at some point? Not sure. Birthday? 12th July 1997 — and yes, you are more than welcome to wish me happy birthday and shower me with expensive gifts and sugary treats! I would not say no. Star sign? I’m a Cancer! Let’s hope it’s not symbolic of anything… Job? I’m an interdisciplinary artist, meaning that I work across a range of disciplines and often blend them together. My disciplines include writing, theatre, film, photography, art, and art criticism. OK…We get it! You like art! So, what else do you do? I’m a very spiritual person and find every aspect of the world fascinating — even the detestable and the grotesque. I love to learn and so immerse myself regularly in all kinds of things: mathematics, architecture, marine biology, sociology, astrophysics, history, etc. Even though I’m not meant to be talking about art for this one…all of this certainly influences my artistic thinking and visions. If you wanted more on my “spiritualism”, I have a whole publication on this here. Music interests? I don’t really listen to music. I find pop music to be too bland and predictable, and classical music I find either useful at bedtime or as the object of an artistic pursuit or study. However, I do go through phases of obsessing over certain musical artists. Billie Eilish — or, as I like to refer to her, William Eyelash — or HyunA are my most recent obsessions…but these are slowly dying down. Ashnikko is also fabulous. I like unique musical artists, those with a distinct vision, sound and agenda. Passions? 1. Food! Oreos are my favourite — it’s actually a problem (please send help). 2. Sleep. Can’t get enough of it — literally…I have insomnia (please send help). 3. I love animals and insects to the point where I will go out of my way and take the longer route home on rainy days to make sure that worms, slugs and snails aren’t in danger of being trodden on. Favourite news interview? Now you're asking questions! Please, welcome to the stage the myth and the legend, the maker of dreams, Constance Landry: Favourite deadly sin? Jealousy…vanity takes second place. Favourite TV show? Bob’s Burgers is a great shout! Favourite celebrity? Well, in terms of role model, everything she does is amazing, I want to be her, she is everything: Naomi Campbell But in terms of comedy icon, could watch them all day every day, everything they say makes me die: Kermit the Frog and Lady Colin Campbell. (If you don't know who Lady C is, I recommend some quickfire Googling! You won't regret it; she's phenomenal.) Ooh. Two Campbells…how mesmerising. Movies or Books? Movies! Most definitely. I hate reading… Favourite colour? Black. (And for those of you who have been deceived that black isn’t a colour, even though it doesn’t actually exist: purple). Weaknesses? 1. Sometimes, too caring. I try to see the best in everyone and everything. 2. Perfectionism. Everything must be PERFECT. 3. I don’t know how to take time for myself…everything’s about career, career, career. It can be a draining and counterproductive mindset but…’tis me! Strengths? 1. Analysing things. I’m obsessed with answers, and I’m very good at psychoanalysis, so beware! 2. My ability to have an energy level of 1,000% despite constantly running on 2.975 hours’ sleep. 3. I have a unique perspective on the world and don’t follow the movements of the crowd. Anything else you want to say before the jury make their verdict? I hope this was a revealing read! If this tickled your fancy and you want to know more, you can subscribe to my website [for free — and there's a way out in the impossible event that you'd want to unsubscribe]. You'll get email notifications every time a new publication is released and when new web pages and services go live! Until next time, I shall leave you with your newfound weekly reminder: Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

So, you're intrigued by my professional work and yearn to revel some more in the glorious world of Lee James Broadwood, huh? Well, you’ve come to the right place! I use this blog to journal some of the smashing things I get up to every week and to jog my memory of a few notable reasons as to why life is still worth a glimmering smile on a gloomy Wednesday eve! Of course, I'll use the blog to publicise new web pages and my professional services as well, but with so much of my online material dedicated to my practices and work, I wanted to show you a slightly more personal side of me, and a blog feels like the perfect way to do so! I wanted to show you the true and more informal Lee James Broadwood residing behind the glitz and glamour of a beautifully aesthetic website! From public diaries expressing my fondness for my recent activities of the closing week, to vegan recipes and product recommendations, to tips and tricks for artist, to quasi-political vents and motivational spiels, I plan to bestow it all upon you! So, buckle up for an excellently adventurous reading spree! Whilst there won't be a specific day on which I publish entries, I will be aiming to release either one longer post a week or two shorter ones. So, until the next one, have a browse and see what miraculous secrets you might come across! And why not begin your treacherous embankment by glancing over my most popular publications: [Review:] THE LION KING, Lyceum Theatre, London. [Essay:] Rearticulating the Distinction Between Theatre and Performance. My Personal Definitions. Until we next cross paths, I shall leave you with your newfound weekly reminder: Be Brave. Be Kind. You Are Blessed.

Standing on a floor utterly littered with newspapers, crisp packets, wrappers and heaven knows what else, a musician plays ‘O Sole Mio’ on his accordion. This is what greets the audience of Theatre of Heaven & Hell's comedic performance of Dario Fo's One Was Nude & One Wore Tails, performed at the Hen & Chickens Theatre Bar. A meaningful setup of biased newspaper articles, information pamphlets and branded packaging gave a loose underlying hint to the themes of this play: social class, financial entitlement, and prejudice and its ubiquity, described by Theatre of Heaven & Hell as societal “pigeon-holing”. And accompanying autumn leaves scattered around the stage seemed to connote a need for change. Whilst the accordionist seemed to bear no significance to the rest of the performance, he enabled a certain ambience of playfulness and provocation, communicating with audience members, lurking behind latecomers and following them to their seats, adding to the enjoyable “rowdy pub” sort of vibe. The performance starts with a corny musical number by a group in orange high-vis attire, rallied by an upbeat change in music from the accordionist – an entertaining and funny foreshadowing of the comical and light-hearted remains of the show. The next scene begins with a wacky and humorous display of slapstick, highlighting the grappling relationship between the slow-witted Roadsweeper (Nicholas Bright) and his philosophical peer, also, rather paradoxically, named Roadsweeper (Brian Eastty). From this scene onward, a relentless performance by Bright, really capturing the folly of his character. When becoming the Ambassador/Count, Bright embodies an efficacious transformation, taking on a haughty, somewhat flamboyant persona. The comedic relationship between him and Naked Man (Darren Ruston) was established well, equally humorous and silly. Elena Clements, playing Woman, retained a comical dryness about her throughout, highlighting the mundane lifeway of her character accustomed to fibbing to simply get by. Man in Evening Dress, played by Jake Francis, was characterised just as finely, having musteline mannerisms which coincided well with an eccentric top hat and polka-dot tie, contrasting with the banal dress of the Roadsweeper to imply his self-acclaimed importance. Equally, an intriguing performance by Ruston. Whilst only his head was visible, Ruston's expressiveness captured his intentions and identity well. The only characterisation I did not favour was that of the Patrolman (also Brian Eastty). Whilst a bland comportment fitted well his role as Roadsweeper's peer, a transformation was imperative for his role as Patrolman, and this was not achieved. However, something notable – and perhaps only specific to the performance I saw – was the loss of his stick-on moustache. Whilst one would usually ignore mishaps like this whilst performing, a clear recognition and exaggeration of this detail from Eastty and Bright commanded the audience's attention and risibility wonderfully. Overall, a very funny and entertaining performance. Whilst the politics of this play were not made too provoking or interrogative and were hence left contained in the world of the narrative, the themes were conveyed clearly through good characterisation and a high physical energy kept throughout. Whilst the props were few, as one would assume from a setting like this, they were effectual in their extravagance and eccentricity, providing the performance with admirable humour and seasoning. “Comical and entertaining.”

Unfortunately, I must start this review as I mean to end it, by stating that this performance is…underwhelming. Its biggest and all-consuming issue is its repetitiveness, and this is where I shall begin. For the very first minute and a half, as corny as it was, Anthony Noack's humour is inviting, and the character he has developed, Dave Davidson, is awkwardly likeable and endearing. His manner is quirky; his tone, peculiar and unique. It is easy to feel as though a good comedy show is being set up for us…and then that minute passes, and Noack's manner and tone are unchanging, his speech becomes robotic and monotonal, his gestures repetitious. A pattern quickly emerges whereby every sentence begins 'legato', slow and with low intonation, and becomes 'staccato' with a high intonation as he reaches its end. With one hand on the microphone, Noack uses the other, flat-palmed, to gesture towards the camera with a stabbing motion, thrusting forward with every single syllable. When coming towards the end of an argument or idea, the free hand is extended back and to the side, communicating the same intent as Dave's favourite [and my least favourite] of his repeated phrases: 'What's the deal?' This continues throughout the entire performance, incessantly without fail, for every sentence. A quick return to the corny style three minutes in suggests that there is hope yet, despite that same falling-rising tone…but no. We are now stuck with this stagnant persona for forty minutes. Noack unfortunately presents himself in this performance as an unversatile and unlayered writer and performer whose characterisation of David is absolutely lacking in depth and whose performance has very little visual appeal to salvage an audience‘s interest, especially given that Noack stands on an empty, dark stage, alone with but a stool and a glass of wine. Comedy shows, generally, aim to subvert expectation, and this is the premise of their humour, and so it is questionable that Noack has decided upon such a bland and monotonous structure for his so-called comedy. The utter lack of vigour and depth, and not to mention the complete lack of comedy, makes this 'comedy show', whose content is, of course, heavily religious –– more on that later –– resemble more a Judaeo-Christian lecturing, a teaching, a moralisation. It is easy to feel as though Noack is simply using the medium of performance to teach us about the world, about God, about our existence and the meaning of life, which perhaps is on the mark, considering the aims of the dramatic text and that David is, indeed, supposed to be a priest, but which does not make for a particularly entertaining watch. It is just too “on the nose”, so to speak. This sense of boredom and lack of depth is concretised with the employment of phrases that are used over and over again throughout the performance, most notably: 'under the sun' and, as I mentioned above, the one I personally find most jarring, 'What's the deal?', which is similar to yet another, 'What's with that?' 'What's the deal?' is said over ten times, and I am sure that this was deliberate, with Noack thinking that this must produce some comedic effect…it does not; it is simply grinding. It reduces all of the content of the performance to a mere setup to a punchline, the 'punchline' being simply that phrase. It causes the mind to consciously prepare for the phrase that is coming and treat whatever is said before it as negligible, which might be effective if this phrase actually had some comedic value or integrity; it does not, for, in itself, this phrase is completely negligible, too. There is even a far-too-long, 44-second segment involving a repeated anaphora, "A time to [this], and a time to [that]", making repetition all the more inherent to this performance. And this is without mentioning the recurrent theme of the wise man and the fool that makes a persistent and, again, needless appearance throughout. Repetition is not limited to the mere soliloquy itself, however, but extends to the 'symbolic' elements of the performance as well –– most significantly, Dave drinking his glass of wine. Every so often, Noack pauses, turns, looks at the wine and takes a slow, silent swig. He then puts the wine glass down, pauses, and finally continues talking…in the exact same manner and with the exact same conviction he has been talking this entire time thus far. When first explaining that he had "opened a bottle of the biblical beverage before the show", Dave explains that he had set out on a journey of wisdom but that "an increase in knowledge only leads to an increase in sorrow". He implies that he has acted like a fool deliberately and then states, after taking a sip, "I can control myself!" The wine, then, seems to symbolise a certain sadness that Dave is experiencing beyond his speech; it is easy to feel that Dave is covering something up, something that will come to light eventually. In other words, it seems as though Dave is an alcoholic, which is not what the symbol of the wine intends to communicate here. In fact, it is incredibly difficult to work out what purpose the wine glass actually serves, other than to generate unwillfully tense breaks for him and the audience between his lengthy speeches. Odd exclamations like "Go and eat with pleasure, and drink your wine with joy" follow his every sip, and it is clear that Noack wanted the wine to mean something, but it simply is not coming through. Upon reading the description of the recording, I read: 'Davidson struggles to maintain the momentum of his online act. However, with a liberal dose of wine, he takes the audience along on his journey'. So, the wine is being used as a means to stress relief? Presumably, this is supposed to be comedic as well? Presumably, we are supposed to sense a shift in Dave's performance as he loosens up with ‘liberal’ helping of the wine… Well, we do not. Not only are these so-called ‘liberal’ helpings mere ignorable sips, but Noack also remains just as monotonous as before after taking them, as I have written above, and the awkward and slow speed at which Dave reaches for the wine makes it seem far less like he is reaching to chug some more down to aid his spirits and more like a weird absurdist skit whose material simply fixates on the strange and the unnecessary for no good reason at all. Needless to add, this was very badly communicated. When we finally do get a slight –– NB: slight –– shift in persona as Dave holds the bottle of wine, now supposedly very merry, it is 1) far too late and hence ineffective, and 2) short-lived, for as soon as he puts the bottle down, he is back to his monotonous self. The wine glass is not the only symbol to succumb to such a fate of ill-communication, however. There are also odd close-ups on Dave's body, usually his hands but sometimes his chest: one of his clenched fists; another of him grasping the microphone after the phrase "grasping the wind"; and another of his dropping the microphone after saying "his desire shall fail"… There seems to be a lot of these attempts at symbolism hidden underneath the text that simply do not come through due to a lack of expressivity, to unrefined comedic timing, or to the fact that the symbolism is simply needless and unnecessary. I realised in retrospect that the clichéd 'drunken priest' is probably what Noack was aiming for here, and this certainly could be a premise for a comedy show, but this would innately require a degree of caricaturisation and performed stereotype, which is certainly not offered in this performance. With the mention of the priest comes the underpinning element of this dramatic text: the book of Ecclesiastes. Now, the inspirations are certainly clear, from general themes and teachings to specific references such as 'chasing the wind'. The meaninglessness of our activities, our false hopes and inane interests and desires, 'hevel', all of this is certainly communicated in this performance, but there is a huge lack of creativity and theatricality in this communication. Noack simply regurgitates the content of the biblical book with a few, fleeting and ineffective references to his character Dave’s life, job and failed marriage, etc. –– ie nothing that makes Dave a particularly original, profound or unique character worth paying attention to. What also makes this rather dull, I believe, is the fact that Dave is speaking retrospectively. There is no sense of growth, danger, risk, change; Dave has been there, has done that, and he is now here to give his friendly advice… again, rather more like a sermon than a comedy show, and not to any avail. The material, naturally, is also heavy and needs to be broken up a lot more, to give the audience some respite, to relieve them of the overwhelming theme of the meaninglessness of human action and life, and to let them actually take in the information that they have received –– this is where the comedy should have come in! A mere few jokes about rabbits entering bars, or God’s favourite sandwiches –– which, contrary to Dave’s apparent experience, I would not deem to be quite enough to uplift mourners at a funeral –– do not quite make the cut. In synopses, Noack also references ancient preaching techniques and how he wants to draw similarities between these and modern comedy shows in The Preacher, but this is quite obviously a concept merely inspiring this performance, as theory does not match up with practice. There are no allusions within the performance to this, nor are these similarities interrogated, examined or established to any considerable, effective or even apparent degree through this performance. However, the context of a comedy show is certainly a great one to explore the profound theme of hevel, and who better to tell us about it than a drunk priest wanting only to be merry and have a great time? However, these elements were simply underused in this performance. What we are left with is 'performance' used as a mere, unadulterated excuse to present a blatant translation of the book of Ecclesiastes with a few, failing jokes scattered in to [fail to] lighten the mood. “Drab, bland, uninspired.”

To watch this virtual performance for free, click here. Love in the Time of Corona has potential to be a lot stronger and more engaging, but I am afraid I must begin that, as it stands, it is fraught with inconsistencies and lagging momentum, the former of which will be a repeated issue raised in this review. I shall start with the most successful aspects of this performance. Ivan Comisso has developed a good set of mannerisms and traits to characterise his character Jake, such as winks, know-it-all taps of his finger on his temple and cocky clicking sounds, and the repetition of this repertoire is good to build a stable sense of character in such a short amount of time. My only criticism is that there should be a lot more of these. Comisso’s overall delivery is also sufficiently realistic, though I believe the lack of realism in speech offered by the writing limits him. The overall story itself is also clear and simple, an easy watch…but I am not sure if ‘simple’ and ‘easy’ is what one would necessarily seek for entertainment, nor do I think a half-hour performance should be so plain. Now, onto the not-so-successful aspects… As mentioned in the introduction of this review, there are a lot of inconsistencies, and the most significant is the inconsistency of Jake’s view on women, which is the real fundament of this story. We learn very quickly in this story that Jake is a misogynist. He has no time for women and thinks of them as simple, over-analytical and disinteresting beings without the intelligence to hold any worthwhile conversation, particularly about conventionally masculine items such as cars, beyond an interest in what colour they are, or to hold a notable, steady job without the steadfast determination and logic of a man. In other words, a Grade A, and perhaps stereotypical, misogynist. However, this stereotypical quality is not only overly simplistic and hesitant in its delivery, upon which I shall elaborate later, but it is also pretty much extinguished by Jake’s later claims. Jake states that all women talk about is men and how attractive they are, and perhaps maybe sometimes hair products and shopping. And yet, later, he claims that some women are overly focused on their careers (which apparently, we’d been previously told that they’re not ‘man enough’ to maintain, no?) and only talk about work all the time. On top of this, he then claims that this is a trait shared by workaholic men…but are women and men not so vastly different in his eyes, as noted before? Jake goes into detail about how easy it is to lure women into bed with him, to sweet-talk them around with the help of a common romantic setting, claiming that ‘all girls give in’ after some coaxing with his simply irresistible masculine charms…but then, he says, “In my experience, all girls vary a lot from one another” and states that only a low percentage of women will actually want to sleep with him and adds, “I usually win.” Only usually? Perhaps the most irking inconsistency arises when Jake notes that it’s ‘even worse for women’ to secure their career, elaborating upon the presence of the well-known proverbial glass ceiling, as though he is aware of a feminist agenda, considerate as to how women are treated in the working world…after having just expounded his belief that working is better as chiefly a man’s preoccupation and that women are incompetent workers. I noted above that I found the misogyny presented in this text to be hesitant. I shall elaborate here. When Jake talks about women, there are some notable specificities in the language that he uses that are blatant forms of deliberate self-policing, and this is not something one would expect from neither a deluded misogynist nor from an intimate soliloquy one-on-one with the audience; we would expect full disclosure and lack of self-censorship and a devout depreciation of women. For instance, “I don’t think I’ve ever pushed too hard” or “I don’t disrespect women” ought to be replaced with the misogynist opinion that women complain too much, and the thought of ‘maybe these actions are disrespectful towards women’ should not be crossing his mind at all unless someone had challenged him specifically in this manner. To get rid fo this censorship here, to present the character’s misogynist beliefs without inhibition would really deepen the material, not only making for more consistency in Jake’s character but also a greater, and more powerful and significant learning curve or personal development for him in the end. An extension of this misogyny is seen in Jake’s homophobia. I am not sure why this really comes up in this performance, along with a past friend’s death…I imagine these were added to create a sense of deep psychology or backstory, to help us to understand why Jake is the way he is, so cold and uncaring, insular and unemotional, but these are irrelevant details in this text. The latter is also far too significant a detail to be thrown in towards the end so casually as it is, particularly considering that this is really one of the things that catalyses Jake’s change of heart. Regardless of what these pieces of information bring to the text, the details we are given about them are also inconsistent… We are told that there were two gay boys (or, rather, “two of them”, which is a successful marker for homophobia — important later) in Jake’s year at school when he was younger. We are told that they [NB: both of them] used the word ‘she’ to refer to boys…this is unrealistic, seeing as this is a trend in gay slang that has only seen its re-popularisation in the last five or so years. Before this, it was popular only in ballroom culture, a nuanced and rather concealed sub-culture that definitely would not have found its way into British secondary schools… Beyond this, we are told that they were both overly bitchy and sarcastic with one another, that they both used constant gay sexual innuendoes and that both of their manners grated on him…and yet, we are then told that one of them would never have been expected to be gay, as he acted completely so normally… Jake claims that he is not homophobic, yet somebody who uses the language noted above as well as ‘camp as Christmas’ and ‘a parody of a queer’ would not find themselves even questioning their potential homophobia and would not care if they seemed homophobic, as this is language rooted in hate and discomfort and so would not be self-policed in this way. Where specificities are concerned again here, Jake claims that calling a boy gay “in the playground [is] still the most common form of abuse”. I am not sure a homophobe would class it as ‘abuse’ specifically… If anything, he would say ‘teasing’ or something of that calibre, but, really, it is questionable if he would even note it at all… I sense that the writer did not want to go too far, that he was conscious of what message he was putting out there, of what he was writing. This does not make good, impactful and challenging theatre. To present a character who is unapologetically malicious in these ways, only to have them develop their opinions over time and ‘come to their senses’, so to speak, is a much more impactful and educational manner of presenting such a personal growth. It would challenge those who feel the same as the character to perhaps grow alongside him, learning as he does, and would relieve those viewers in discord when he finally sees the error of his ways. I would urge that the writing be more thorny, difficult, thought-provoking and uncomfortable in this way. As it stands, it seems as though Jake merely has mixed thoughts and is juggling various political perspectives with no substantial beliefs of his own and that he could easily be swayed by the right woman — as by Lauren — towards a more feminist perspective. And so the ‘development’ we see him go through feels minuscule, unsurprising and, simply put, rather lacklustre. The content in this performance does seem hugely superficial, as well as confusing, as outlined above. All of the unparticularised misogynistic and homophobic claims as those aforementioned are very standard viewpoints in current social/gender discourse and are hence used quite unimaginatively. Additionally, we do not get to know enough about Lauren, despite her being the single cause of his significant personal development and the real catalyst for change in the plot — a change which simply comes out of nowhere; suddenly, he is just seeing sense and has a completely different perspective (yet still makes jokes like that about women’s inability to parallel park…?). We do not learn what it is specifically about Lauren that causes him to open up, as surely if he is sleeping with a different woman ‘at least five days a week’, he must have come across at least a handful of women with a brain cell or two?! What is it specifically about her beyond her ability to hold an intelligent conversation, which most women surely possess? We are told that her interest in product design is a major attraction for Jake, yet we are given nothing but a superficial explanation that, when the two spoke about their admiration of the Porsche 911, Lauren “told me everything there is to know about the design of the earlier models, going all the way back to the 1940s”…which is an incredible talent, considering the Porsche 911 was not produced until 1963. There is a clear lack of research and thought that has gone into making this dramatic text. For someone who has such a profound interest in vehicular design, one would expect a lot more specialised and specific vocabulary than a mere ‘I love its design’. The amount of detail that Jake goes into about her physical appearance, down to her almost-monobrow, is the level of specificity this text deserves consistently. More importantly, I would like to know: what does Jake offer to Lauren for her to remain engaged in such a bland and unfeeling man?! More and more questions arise the more you consider the logistics of the information we are given… What specifically has made him change his entire view on promiscuity, from priding himself on and loving his hedonistic pursuits to saying that he has wasted his life on sexual exploits? This is a huge transformation of character that needs to be explained carefully and in detail. How have the context of lockdown and his meeting Lauren actually had this specific effect on him to want to delete all dating apps, completely abandon the possibility of his future hookups and focus all of his attention on one woman? [Interesting that he uses dating apps for hookups, as these are reportedly highly unproductive in procuring such relations…] What is really stopping him from simply ‘testing the waters’ with her with other women on the side? Why does he not just break the lockdown rules and continue sleeping with people? Surely, it is not too far of a stretch to imagine that someone with no care towards STIs might not care about the transmission of COVID-19… And why would he bother going through all the effort of creating a romantic setting for a woman he does not care about in the slightest, developing his cooking skills and candle aesthetics? Surely, he would have more of an ‘anyone will do’ attitude, as it were, and hook up with one-night stands, so as to not waste his time on intimate and emotion-filled settings? One should note here that emotions and intimacy are the things with which he supposedly struggles the most, which is his biggest epiphany in the end. Lastly, why the titular intertextual reference to Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez? It has very little to do with this story. There just simply is not enough information provided, and the information that we are given is simply insipid, lacking and repetitive or completely irksome and self-contradictory — like the fact that Jake is defensive about flatmate Craig’s joke that ‘he has a different girl every night’; surely, this is something he would pride himself on? Or the fact that Jake yearns for cybersex with Lauren, yet ‘has no ulterior motives’ and just wants to talk, or that the lockdown ‘should be eased soon’ and so the two will be able to meet for the first time, yet they’re ‘meeting tomorrow’. The list of inconsistencies goes on and on… More information about the character could have been provided via the setting, which I presume to be Comisso’s living room. However, very little thought, if any, has gone into the setting for this performance, which is beyond excuse, even in spite of the national lockdown. It suffers from a great deal of over-simplicity. Very few allusions to the space are really given until the very last scene when one of two potted plants comes into view along with an exercise bike and a hanging canvas print of a row of coloured motorbikes against a grayscale street background. Elements like these bring with them a sense of intimacy, that we are really in the character’s house, that we are getting glimpses of their life. It is a shame that there is not more within the frame than bare walls and, at times, the back and side of a sofa. It takes away the homeliness that a story taking place in lockdown in someone’s house would be expected to possess. It is clear, though, that these three aforementioned items were not decisively included, either… I am sure an unfeeling misogynist with a short attention span would have very little interest in such feminist items as indoor plants or a painting of a sunset. Emphasis on the exercise bike, motorbikes print and other such items would have been a stronger decision, noting again Jake’s apparent obsession with cars and vehicular design. It is clear, though, that it was understood –– to some extent, at least –– what role setting played in the performance, as Comisso’s positioning of himself and the camera in the room changes with every scene. Costume has a similar marked importance, and this is recognised too, with Comisso changing his clothes for every scene. As a last few notes, I must also add that, unfortunately, whilst in itself the intro music (by Neil Thompson) is clean and well composed, it does not fit with the mood of the performance whatsoever. Additionally, fade transitions (video editing by Howard White) are regularly far too slow and leave time for awkward and unnatural moments of Comisso staring into the camera or, even worse, enough time to see him turning off the camera to stop filming, utterly destroying any surviving theatrical illusions. I am also not sure as to why, as marked at the beginning and end of the performance, we are watching Jake through an iPad screen, which makes the fade transitions all the more confusing. I understand this is a motif for lockdown life, but this forces us to consider ourselves as a close relative or friend having a video call with Jake, which we are not addressed to be — not to mention that it looks tacky. Perhaps the time sourcing the stock image of the iPad should have been spent shortening the fades. Lastly, the inconsistency — thankfully, the last one I shall mention — of Comisso’s interactions with the camera: his holding the camera in the first scene vs it being stationary in all others. Whilst holding the camera does generate a good sense of intimacy, it needs to be decided whether the camera should be held throughout, visibly propped up and turned off each time (which I would not recommend), or left still entirely. When watching this performance, it is easy to feel as though we are simply going through the motions of a basic first-draft plot, rather than watching any profound action unfold, that ideas are being spitballed through the character’s indecisive psychology. And then his friend is dead! Just for some added drama. A most disappointing piece, I am sad to say. “An underdeveloped performance lacking intensity and depth.”

Recognition of stimulus | Reaction to stimulus: fictionalisation or expulsion (performance / organic performance) | Recognition of a recipient (theatre / contractual performance) There exists in all of us, no matter one's age, race, gender or level of intellect, a degree of instinct and consciousness and the ability to think, to cognise, to process information. One key aspect of this condition is the ability and propensity to imagine and conceptualise, and, most significantly here, the relationship between the body and the mind which grants the individual with the ability to perform. There are two main types of thought: cognition and meta-cognition, i.e. thinking, and thinking about thinking. The ability to think, perceptible in all living creatures, is one premise of my personal definition of performance. The ability to think about thinking, this is theatre. Whatever we consider, think and feel has no necessary impact on anyone, on anything or even on ourselves. It is simply a mental and biological, instinctive and innate process. This tool of imagination is a tool of fiction. In thinking, we transform physical or conceptual informations into thoughts; we fictionalise the world in order to perceive and digest it. It is no struggle to relate such a process of generating fiction to performance. Our ability to imagine, to predict, to foresee, to relive, remember and invent is a performative aspect of the psyche. If we are angry, we may recall -- perhaps with some mental imagery -- the things that have made us angry, or we may imagine what we'd like to do to the person, being or thing that has caused our anger. This I refer to as fictionalisation, and it occurs after information has been recognised either consciously or subconsciously by the psyche. Fictionalisation is an internal performance of sorts. it is the mind's initial way of processing the information we have received, a technique, one could say, that is used by the Freudian Ich (Ego) to postulate how it should react to what has been done to the Es (Id). However, we may also choose, rather than to allow this anger to brew in thought, in our minds, to expel it, frantically waving our arms, screaming, cursing, etc. This I refer to as expulsion, and it has the same function as fictionalisation but, instead of the process of thinking, it is the process of physicalising thought; it is thought expelled into the material world through the body. This is quite an isolated process. When we fictionalise or expel information in this way, we are not necessarily thinking about our impact on or the significance of other people, other animals or objects or even ourselves. For example, when we automatically pull our fingers away from a burning surface, we are not thinking until perhaps afterwards about our own safety, about how bad the burning could have been or about the embarrassing presence of the gazing other; instead, we simply act instinctively, unthinking. In this way, the way we deal with information is unconscious. Because the processes of fictionalisation and expulsion are unconscious, they can find themselves enacted in dreams, in fantasies and in fears… With all of this in mind, a definition for performance becomes: the automatic and unconscious reaction to stimuli once such stimuli have been recognised by the psyche. This performance type I refer to as organic performance. Theatre, however, as alluded to above, is a meta-cognition; it is the conscious recognition that these processes, i.e. performances, have taken place –– or, indeed, are taking place. Once the dream has ended, once we've pulled our hands away from the heat source, we remember and we reflect, much like we do when attending the conventional theatre. This recognition I refer to as recipience. I shall elaborate: imagine you have a small child who bursts into a tantrum. This is a performance, for it is an expulsion of otherwise uncommunicable emotions and feelings, unmet desires, and thoughts. Once we recognise that the child is performing, we enter irreversibly and unnegotiably into a theatrical contract with them, and we are forced to perform alongside them: we walk away from them or we stand still and demonstrate our disapproval or perhaps we concede and give the child what we think they want. The child in this instance is the performer and we have become an audience member of sorts, a witness, a participant in the event. Being that the performance is an expulsion of information, we receive it (hence 'recipience'), and we are forced to react to it, but the main difference here is that we are conscious that we have received the information, and we now react consciously to it, not instinctively and naturally as we would in performance. To complicate things, though, this tantrum could also become theatre in itself. Instead of expelling feeling, emotion, desire and thought naturally and unthinkingly, as perhaps was originally the case, once the child notices we are reacting –– or perhaps the child sees a stranger looking on and acts up even more, knowing that the resulting embarrassment we will feel from their gaze might encourage us to concede quicker –– the child enters itself into a theatrical contract, too. The child is aware that its performance (containing its emotional data) is being received, and so any further performance from the child is decisive and deliberate, not instinctive and unthinking. In this way, theatre is a form of self-recognition, self-analysis, self-policing and, of course, metacognition. It recognises and demands that the self be included in the performance(s) of another. To complicate things even further, one can enter into a theatrical contract with imagined persons or groups as well as real. I shall elucidate: you have a job interview, and you look at your daily planner and see 'interview' written down for tomorrow. This is the recognition of a stimulus. Without thinking, you start imagining the route you'll have to take tomorrow to get there. This is fictionalisation. Next, you sit down and breathe slowly to remain calm. This is expulsion. Then, you imagine yourself in the interview, talking to yourself and rehearsing –– the word 'rehearsing' should not be taken overlooked here –– what you will say to the interviewer. Here, a shift happens, and you start considering what the interviewer will be thinking about you and thus how you are presenting [performing] the desired information on your abilities and traits to them. You imagine what they might generally look like, where they will be positioned in the scene, how they are sitting, whether or not they are engaged and responsive, what they sound like, what they're saying to you… this is theatre, and in its most traditional form: suddenly, we have a setting, a plot, lines, characters… You have recognised that the information you're giving about yourself will be received by someone (or, rather, is being received by the imaginary interviewer in front of you in this very moment), and so you change the way you perform the information in order to accommodate this recipient. When we praise ourselves for the good-sounding phrases we used in our imagined interviews, or when, disappointed, we depreciate ourselves for sounding terrible, when we laugh at ourselves or fill with pride, or when we repeat the phrases again and again to remember them or to rearticulate them, we become the recipients of our own performances; we enter into a theatrical contract with ourselves. As soon as we acknowledge an onlooker, someone who is both the recipient of the information we provide and the provider of information that we are to receive, whether this is a real or imagined person or even us ourselves as we self-criticise and metacognise, and as soon as we start to tailor our performances, to rehearse them, to police them, this becomes theatre. This second performance type I refer to as contractual performance. In summary, performance is a mediator between the internal and the external worlds. When this is acknowledged, be it in everyday life by ordinary people or by performance scholars and critics, this becomes theatre. Theatre is thus a recognised form of art, where art is a form of expression and expulsion. Performance is both inside and outside the mind and body of the individual, and theatre, in its obnoxious and ubiquitous presence, is inside and outside the mind and body of the group.

Drowning on Dry Land, written by Alan Ayckbourn, directed by Paul Tate, and performed at the New Wimbledon Studio. There is honestly not much to say about this performance, as simply a small amount of the notes I made applied to its entirety. I shall start with the set, lighting and sound effects. The set comprised a dining table on top of a large square patch of grass. On the dining table, a plate of cookies, a Hello magazine. Jutting out into Upstage Right, a curving brick wall (the side of a 'tower') with two arches either side of it. Flowers. Trellises. Birthday bunting. This combined with the sounds of birds tweeting, we get the impression we are outside, and with classical music playing, we find ourselves in the garden of an upper-class family. Effective. This light was perhaps too harsh, however, creating not only boiling temperature but a very bright illumination of the entire front row - things to be considered in tech. Nighttime, produced by a dimmer light yet accompanied by the same dawn chorus…at what is inferred as dusk. Furthermore, there were the ringtones later on in the performance which were produced behind the audience, sounding like a spectator's mobile, taking away completely from the scene. On to narrative. The plot of this play was highly convoluted, starting with a focus on the falling marriage of a celebrity couple and ending with a jump towards a lawsuit against sexual assault. A lot seemed to be going on in this play, but this contrasted greatly against the enthusiasm with which it was performed. The best notable performances came from Janine Pardo, playing Charlie Conrad's wife, Philip Gill, Charlie's lawyer, and Louise Devlin, an investigative journalist. Other characterisations seemed either weak or incoherent. It seemed that the actors did not understand their lines at points, delivering them blandly or, at times, without needed emphasis - and that's ignoring the many trip-ups and false starts. I found Malcolm Jeffries's characterisation particularly blurred and hard to read - not in a mysterious, alluring way. Although I found Olivia Busby's physicality strong, her character funny, her sudden change towards a hysterical and troubled disposition in the second act was very incomprehensible and incoherent for me. It seemed to have come from nowhere and did not reflect her previous characterisation. Whilst I cannot speak for the entire audience, and whilst there were certainly the few sporadic, echoed guffaws throughout the performance from certain spectators, another audience member with whom I spoke voiced my view well in stating, “I just don't get the point of it all. I'm waiting for something to happen.” I, too, felt that the energy was very low in this performance. Scenes were highly conversational (which, of course, is not objectively a bad thing), but, here, there seemed to be no events, no changes in the mood - minor discourses, yes, but no real threaded development of narrative. And the set, only slightly tweaked throughout, fed into the stasis of this. But, this monotony was then paired with moments of near slapstick, wild and boorish outbursts which not only failed to change the tone but made the overall mood of the play confused, sitting somewhere between naturalism and absurd humour. Even if this mix is coherent in the performance text, this was definitely not communicated on stage. Needless to say, the style that this play wished to achieve was extremely blurry. My first impressions of this play gave me such hope: a giggling, outrageous duo of children running across the stage, taking selfies, hiding; an egotistical lady of the house condescending the children's entertainer she had hired with talk of her young ones' ponies and petrol-operated cars. Comical and intriguing. But from the end of this scene on, everything felt lacking, low-energy and lost. The charming, humorous duo became an overused, melodramatic and predictable cutaway that misbalanced the overall feel of the performance. I could infer that this play had the potential to be a lot more. Disappointing. “Confused, convoluted and underperformed.”