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In this review: Summary: The Twilight Hour 'Misfortune' 'Take the Wheel' 'Smart Home' 'The Human Touch' 'Pie in the Sky' 'Can I Change My Mind?' I have said before that compound theatre, performances composed of several playlets, seems to be one poignant way forward for the dramatic arts. Not only is the audience's attention span increased but an ability to present a wide range of performance styles and stories under one strong theme is engendered as well. Before I begin this review, I must commend theatre production company Second Self's work in making this performance a reality. It is never easy to stage multiple plays, no matter how short each of them may be, and this should be recognised. This particular production, The Twilight Hour, comprised six playlets. These include: 'Misfortune', 'Take the Wheel', 'Smart Home', 'The Human Touch', 'Pie in the Sky', and 'Can I Change My Mind?'. I shall start by reviewing the overall night and then each individual playlet one by one. The Twilight Hour I do not usually mention audience layout, but I feel that for this performance, this is necessary. For this performance, each audience member is given a laminated piece of paper with a number printed on it corresponding to a preassigned table in the auditorium. These tables are reminiscent of dining theatre. I am mentioning this because I felt that this not only created an unnecessary spatial narrative but also cluttered the auditorium, which was particularly problematic in moments where actors walked through the audience. Seat allocation, when done in this manner, is more suitable for didactic theatre or game theatre wherein audience layout plays a very particular role. The tables, whilst a nice idea, caused the house to seem hemmed-in. This was the same, or more so, for those sat on the raised platform at the back of the auditorium. Unwanted pressures could have been caused within the audience in this layout, where a simple end-on would have sufficed. Audience layout aside, this performance definitely had some very likeable qualities…but also some avoidable issues. Despite a very minimal set, reused from play to play, each short play managed to convey its world through its own definitive, and hence effective, aesthetic. This was enhanced by a somewhat efficacious lighting design and with various props - although, these regularly felt overused. As for performance style, there tended to be a lot of needless mime and direct audience address. If one wishes to address the audience, this must be for a very, very precise reason. For example, one might, in the case of didactic theatre again, address spectators to evoke their opinions or judgements which would help the progression of the performance in terms of its focus and direction. To address the audience without clear significance and reason, however, should always be avoided, as this takes away from the self-contained and inherent world of the play whilst also creating a sense of tension amongst a now-unsettled audience. Additionally, certain actors' energies juxtaposed too harshly with those of others. This led to a confused performance style that teetered between mime, melodrama, naturalism and simply wooden acting. In considering this performance's style, one inevitably lands at the character of the Host, played by Matthew MacLachlan, the lines for whom were written by Andrew Crook. MacLachlan, whose chosen voice was reminiscent of a sort of American vampire, took on this role rather well, consistent and energetic throughout. I will say, however, that I found it too difficult to differentiate MacLachlan's Host from his initial character, Barry. I felt that he should have either continued as Barry throughout the performance or have taken on a completely different persona. The Host's occasional talk of Barry in the third person simply drew more attention to the lack of movement from one character to another. Also worth noting about the Host is his regular mini magic tricks. Whilst these were, as magic is, endearing, I could not help but feel that they were rather out of place in this performance, employed simply for easy mystery and shock factor, having no real significance or relevance in the play. “A good night, if lacking some topographical and performative refinement.” 'Misfortune' Written by Mark Harvey Levine. Directed by William Ribo. As alluded to in my summary of the night itself, Matthew MacLachlan's characterisation of Barry was extremely peculiar, in quite a positive way. I think an issue arises, however, in the range of acting styles of all three onstage performers. Whilst MacLachlan went for a more caricaturistic approach, I could not help but feel that Ruchi Ranjan's characterisation of Stephanie was rather lacklustre. There was a definite problem with intonation, motivation and change of mood. For example, there is a moment towards the end of this short play where Stephanie picks up a knife from her table and accuses Barry of cheating. Whilst this could have been comical, Ranjan's 'dramatic' and somewhat random change of attitude seemed very incongruous with the plot's natural flow. Then, we have Rachel Fenwick (playing the waitress, Cindy) who performed much more naturalistically. Whilst I felt that Fenwick's expressions of exasperation or frustration were rather wooden, the rest of her performance was realistic. This interplay of extreme, naturalistic and underdone made the overall performance very mismatched and inarticulate. There were also moments in this short play that I found rather clumsy. For example, Fenwick's miming of serving other customers seemed as though a lazy ode to the setting of a restaurant. If a character has no need to be on stage, they should not be at all. The dialogue between a customer and a waitress is enough to produce the audience's imagination of a restaurant setting. Having limited her character's movements to simply entering and exiting the stage would have better accentuated the sense of her frustration. Another awkward moment arose in the opening of the cardboard box. To avoid the lid swinging open when it was supposed to be taped shut, as it did, why not actually tape it shut? Opening this with the knife would have been a matter of a mere few seconds added on and would have, again, added to her frustration as well as to the comedic tension of the scene. Little features such as these, as well as empty drinking glasses, take away from the credibility of a performance. The plot of this performance was quite predictable, but this fed into its comedic quality. The end, however, I felt was rather poorly executed and teetered towards dramatic where, in my view, it would have been better as an exaggerated comedy. The minute gunshots and the quiet screams should have been an overdramatic wail and gunfire. The waitress admitting she may have swapped the bill was unneeded, as this was clear anyway. A simple and crude "Oh, sh*t!", blackout, would have done the trick nicely. I would recommend staying far away from literalisation and approaching the work, in this case, more exaggeratedly, permitting the writing to laugh at itself, as it were. This is a style into which the abundance of fortune cookies and MacLachlan's characterisation of Barry - even if this bled into that of the Host - flooded nicely. “A comical premise but needing fastidious work on style and comedic exaggeration.” 'Take the Wheel' Written by Will Cooper. Directed by Rebecca Tenor. I have to say that this play, unfortunately, was my least favourite, placing nothing on stage but the utter basics of a utilitarian dilemma. Beginning with the sound of rain and Mr Business (Kelvin Giles) miming entering a taxi, of which Frank (Hugo Trebels) was the driver, and closing an umbrella, this short play had already made errors for me. The sound (operated by Stu Glover, along with lighting) was poorly controlled at this moment, not muffling at the moment when the 'door' was 'closed' by Giles but a few seconds after, and mime was simply overused in Mr Business entering the taxi and Frank 'driving' it. Mime has a very particular effect and produces a sort of abstraction, drawing upon the audience's imagination but also telling a story in a physical way. When mime precedes a more realistic performance style, it seems wildly out of place. Done in a quick, nonchalant and natural way, mime can perhaps serve a better function alongside naturalistic acting, but, as in this opening, drawn-out and performed mime simply tarnishes the credibility of a performance. I would have suggested other ways for this opening to have been done, but I am afraid I have to say that it would have been better to simply cut it altogether. With the off-putting mime and the constricted and repetitive dialogue due to Mr Business ignoring Frank, this scene just felt unnecessary and bland. It would have been, for me, far more interesting to start with Frank already on stage with Mr Business and Miss TV (Payal Muquesh), being interrogated by them, confused. This would have created more suspense and tension. Where is he? Why is he there? Who are these people? The taxi about to crash would have been implicit and understood through dialogue. As it was, the taxi scene was just rather boring, both technically and rhythmically. As for characterisation, I felt that Giles's performance of Mr Business in the mind of Frank was far too wild, and the same goes for Muquesh's Miss TV. Whilst I understand that this scene is meant to be tense, dramatic and mad, I felt this was a literal interpretation of those adjectives. These contrasted too greatly as well with Trebels's almost nonchalant underperformance. Dialogue was repeated far too often, things like: "He looks confused", and "He doesn't know why he's here", and "Come on, Frank, choose one of us to kill." It seemed to lack depth, and when depth did finally surface, it was in allusions to racism and fatherly love, the latter of which felt an easy and obvious route to go down for Frank's character. The end, with the Copper (Stuart Walker) and the Paramedic (Amina Khan), seemed more tense and dramatic than the main body of this short play. I do not know if the director, Rebecca Tenor, wanted to use two very different performance styles to represent two different worlds, inside and outside Frank's head, but the two did not seem to work, either way. Also, in terms of costume, I could not understand why the Copper was in complete police attire whilst the Paramedic was in average clothes and a hi-vis jacket. The attention to detail of one and not the other seemed very off-putting. Furthermore, whilst the dialogue in this scene was alright, the revelation that Miss TV was, in fact, Frank's daughter just seemed as though the writing was trying to be too dramatic. It had little to no effect. “A rushed piece of theatre with little creativity.” 'Smart Home' Written by Jake Guastella. Directed by Olivia Stone. In this performance, Nicole Grace's characterisation of Nina was endearing but quite corny. If her monologue denoted sadness, she was sad; frustrated, she was frustrated. There was nothing implied or passive. Everything was very direct. This was perhaps due to the writing, but I believe it still could have been interpreted more fluidly. Ryan O'Grady's characterisation of Graham was OK but also lacked realism in places. Whilst minimal, the set, comprising blankets on the floor and a bag and CDs Stage Right, alluded simply and effectively to an untidy, lived-in house. There were two props, however, I thought took away from the performance's realism. The bag on the floor was taken by Graham who comes for his CDs; however, it would have made more sense and have been more realistic for him to enter with a bag rather than to take the pre-allocated one on the floor. Next, Alexi, a cylinder covered in aluminium foil representative of a smart-machine. Whilst looking nothing like a smart-machine, I felt that it was needless to have a physical representation of Alexi (Tori Perriss). An ominous voice over, looming over the stage and in the audience's minds, would have been far more effective. The concept of this short play was very endearing and likeable. Perhaps the writing and its realisation were a little direct, though. For example, I felt it would have been more effective to hear, as Nina leaves her room to take a bath, a voice message from Graham play aloud, followed by a simple "Message deleted." This would have shifted the focus onto Alexi, better enhancing her treachery. As it stood - with Nina exiting the stage, Graham entering to leave his message and exit again, Nina re-entering - these scene changes served as quick and clumsy transitions, taking away from dramatic flow. “An endearing concept but in need of a more insidious undertone.” 'The Human Touch' Written by David Vazdauskas. Directed by Elif Knight. The most notable thing about this performance was definitely its fiery aesthetic. The red wash provided a rather psychedelic visual to this play, reflecting off of the drinking glasses on the table and reinforced by features such as Lexi's (Elif Knight) LED glasses and bleached-blond wig. This definitely gave the piece an otherworldly feel. As for costume, I felt that there was a nice contrast between the tightness of Lexi's leather outfit and Sam's (Mark Parsons) rather downbeat, childish shorts and T-shirt. Whilst I felt that this captured - what I could grasp of - the characters, I cannot say the same for the dialogue. The writing of this play was very samey throughout. The same premises were touched over and over by the two characters: Lexi's repetitive questions and Sam's reiteration of robots/computers and lack of human interaction. These ideas seemed to swamp the dialogue singlehandedly. Towards the end, however, this univocal dialogue became much more enriched, especially with Lexi's slip-ups in cursing Siri. Both Parson's and Knight's characterisations were quite good, especially with tiny quirks such as Sam's stress ball and Lexi's computer-operating, but this was with the exception of Knight's stiffness towards the end. It seemed as though the closer the revelation of Lexi being a computer came, the stiffer and less naturalistic she became — but not in an effective, computerised way. After having being outed as a computer, Knight also started to speak in a staggered, robotic voice. I felt this was extremely unnecessary. It would have been much more chilling to know that she is a computer yet have her speaking like and seeming as though a human. The physical interaction between the two characters was effective but perhaps lasted too long. Furthermore, Parsons's walking through the audience was incredibly messy, having no effect other than causing audience members to shuffle their chairs fallibly out of the way amongst the other narrow tables and chairs. “Visually powerful and conceptually good but lacking refinement in execution.” 'Pie in the Sky' Written by Susan Goodell. Directed by Layla Se-Eun Kim. This was a very good piece. Though I felt that William's (Ryan Ferrarin) jokes about Flossie quickly lost their comedy in their repetition, all characters had a very clear personality, and the desires of William and Kimberly (Nyiri Karakas) were very distinct and amusing. This is one of two short plays in this collection that really nailed energy. The deadpan personality of Flossie (Kate Havord) and the excitability of William and Kimberly worked well together in concept as in practice. However, that is not to say that there were not certain moments where realism could have been better achieved. The plot was very interesting, if a little unidirectional, and the subliminal significance of the second pie eaten by Kimberly added a nice texture to the ending. Props were used well and when needed - Cindy's notepad, William's phone, the pies, etc. - avoiding that awkward mime or prop-overuse found in the other plays and adding a sense of naturalism to the performance. Dialogue did, however, let this performance down slightly. It was very samey. Furthermore, there was a moment towards the end of this short play where Flossie referenced a doctor who was dining at the restaurant. In reality, this was the Host stood in the audience eating a piece of pie. This physical representation was unnecessary and also added a slight confusion to the Host's character...why is he a doctor? It just seemed that one had noticed a referenced character in the writing and thought that it would be a good idea to use the Host to represent this; yet, a simple gesture to an imaginary doctor elsewhere on the stage, or off, would have sufficed. Other than that, a good performance. “A treat to watch.” 'Can I Change My Mind?' Written by Jon Platt. Directed by Glenn Gaunt. This was by far the most polished and refined playlet of the night. Characterisation was down to a tee: the flippant professionalism of Dr Alison Cline (Carol Ellis), the cantankerousness and intelligence of Nigel Newton (Chris Coxon), and the cocky idiocy of Jack Sweeney (Barney White). The clear concept of these characters created a depth and variety that was very intriguing and efficacious. Each performer performed with an impressive energy and clear understanding of their character, especially White who performed with high physicality and transformativity. With the exception of Ellis's cheap mime of looking out of the window at the press outside - which could have been replaced with a simple brushing herself down, straightening her clothes, etc. to hint at her reception outside - the performance held a certain naturalism that was captivating and real. Costume fed into character well, a tweed suit for Nigel, a white uniform for Dr Cline and a laid-back tracksuit for Jack. Simplicity for efficacy was definitely inherent in this play, also true of the white aesthetic handed over from Dr Cline's costume, the MacBook and the sheet draped over the chair, which put us simply and effectively in a clinical setting. The writing for this short play was astounding. No dialogue was superfluous and everything seemed to be done for a specific reason. The plot twist of Nigel's mind being copied as opposed to transferred and the idiocy of Jack in failing to understand the surgical procedure and its implications were very clever directions for this story. The writing also gave the impression that there was more to this world than what was realised in play, serving as powerful storytelling. “A very good and upstaging piece of theatre.”

The Orchestra, directed by Kristine Landon-Smitho and currently performing at the Omnibus Theatre, is TeatroLatino’s adaptation of L’Orchestre by Jean Anouilh, translated by Jeremy Sans. Being a farce, there are many unrealistic elements to Anouilh’s text: the instrumentalists’ ability to hear each other speaking over their music, and the extended interludes between their performances; a self-obsessed manager’s lack of care for a dead employee; etc. Farces, particularly absurdist ones like this, require chaos and increasing momentum. Otherwise, they require a certain nonchalance that treats absurd and peculiar goings-on as natural and calculated. In places, this adaptation’s performance style treated this farce appropriately. One particular moment treating this nonchalance, for instance, sees Madame Hortense (Amanda Osborne) hand large sombrero-like hats out to the instrumentalists who put them on without reaction or complaint. This blasé acceptance of something so strange is humorous – and did receive laughter from the audience too. Moments like these were effective. However, on the whole, this adaptation treated the farcical elements of the play rather blandly. Besides Stefania Licari (playing Suzanne Delicias) and Pedro Casarin (playing Monsieur Leon), actors performed rather reservedly, their characterisations and movements simplistic, repetitive and restricted. In this way, the comedy came mostly from the text rather than the performers. For example, whilst their conversation journeyed bizarrely from decorated houses and relationship problems to incontinent, baby-like elderly mothers, Luna Dai (playing Patricia) and Sarah Waddell’s (playing Pamela) personas remained exactly the same throughout: snooty and dismissive, and sober and short. Thus, their performance, more so Dai’s, remained at one level throughout. Their interactions constituting most of the play’s duration, a change in character is imperative to keep the audience both attentive and entertained. The same could be said for Charlotte Laporte (playing Ermeline), who could have become even more animated and fiery in her storytelling, and for Jessica Hulme (playing Leona), whose reactions to Ermeline’s stories could have become more and more expressive. With little lines, physicality is crucial, particularly with the topography of the stage which made action in the back less easily perceptible. If this had been a realistic play, I would say that Amanda Osborne performed frightfully well, but, again, more energy is needed in this circumstance. Diction was also a problem in this performance, especially for Dai but also for Licari. The choice to have the actors play fake instruments to the sound of music (composes by Felix Cross) was a humorous decision. However, whilst this improved towards the end of the performance and speaks less of Sarah Waddell, this miming was not synchronised to the music. This fact could have been humorous if attention was drawn to it, but as it stood, it was simply off-putting. Despite this lack of synchronisation, this miming was also managed far too realistically. It would have been much more comedic to have the performers looking forward, grinning ostentatiously towards the audience, straight after the absurd arguments and mishaps, particularly whilst wearing those ridiculous hats. When needing to converse whilst playing, characters could have then spoken through their teeth. This would have also better served the spotlights (lighting by Angus Chisholm) which felt very unnecessary during these sequences. Only in moments of minute action – e.g. if they were, in fact, talking through their teeth – are spotlights required. Used as they were, the spotlights simply made the orchestra appear broken and temporally nuanced. Finally, the musical sequence in the beginning was far too long. Overall, this performance needed to be more energised. As it stood, actors performed rather minutely and naturalistically, making the ending, an off-stage suicide and a frantic manager running through the audience, seem very out of place stylistically. Characterisation absolutely needed to be boldened and exaggerated with the plot’s progression, and this was not the case. “A humorous performance but in need of energisation and melodrama.” Photography credited to Jacob Malinski.

The full title of this performance is: Connie Wookey: Denied Under Section 221(g) of the Immigration and Nationality Act. I will start rather enigmatically by stating that I have mixed feelings about this show. Whilst, overall, I enjoyed it, I found it rather convoluted and confused. Its purpose and aims seemed unpolished and fruitless, yet its comedy and character were endearing and delightful. The initial mise-en-scène is not much to look at: a wooden train and toy aeroplane suspended from a “kid’s” keyboard and two piles of toy planes on either side. Connie Wookey, writer, director and performer of this show, stands behind the keyboard, with a head-worn microphone, its cable conspicuously — and rather hideously — trailing down her back and off the stage. Hanging behind her, a cardboard ‘Air Canada’ sign. Yet, as bland as this aesthetic was, it bore little hindrance to Wookey's performance. This was mainly due to her comical persona but also the aid of lighting which made for dynamic and energised visuals. Through an ‘autobiographical’ narrative, Wookey details the problems, troubles and distresses she has experienced with air travel. This narrative pivots on two main sub-narratives. In the first, we learn that Wookey’s family member had died in a plane crash, and we are presented the disaster Wookey experiences in travelling by aeroplane to his funeral. The second details Wookey’s denial to leave the country at an American airport. How these two relate to one another is self-explanatory; however, what confuses me is how they relate to feminist narratives of marches and borderline sexual harassment…these sub-narratives seem to go on a tangent, departing from the main focal point of the show. Whilst I would understand, and encourage, the versatility of style and material to keep an audience’s attention, these jumps felt much too incongruous. The main difficulty for me, however, was the tripartition of this show. The material quickly becomes predictable: a recount of an air travel-related disaster followed by a rendition of a pop song of which Wookey has changed the lyrics, then a recount of a somewhat impertinent personal experience. I found myself unable to grasp the significance of pop songs. As the piano arrangements themselves were rather dull, comprising only simple chord progressions, it was the vocals and renewed lyrics that carried the drama of the songs. I find it perplexing, then, as to why pop songs were used as opposed to new, original songs. This would have added quirk and personality whilst reducing the banality of the tunes we all already know. The use of pop songs simply extended the narrative to a multitude of other voices (pop stars’ voices), subtracting from Wookey’s own voice and adding a complex layer of allusions and references incongruous to the main focus of the show. I mentioned that lighting aided the narrative. Lighting had a rather semiotic purpose in this show, expanding or reducing the performance space: to the whole stage, to the house, to the ‘Air Canada’ sign… This was particularly effective in enhancing visual sequences such as Wookey utilisation of a small LED light, and helicopter and aeroplane toys as figures to describe an event in which a helicopter took pictures of the underside of her plane. For the most part, especially in moments like these, Wookey's performance was endearing and humorous. Her material was political and somewhat satirical but not too harsh. Wookey cleverly takes her audience through unfurling tales of lived experience with a bubbly and loveable persona. Wookey draws attention to aspects of everyday life, although the overarching voice piercing through this show is rather quiet. Some decisions were, indeed, quite weak and fruitless, such as the conclusion of the performance: under each audience member’s seat was a small flying glider to be assembled and thrown down to Wookey on her command. This moment was playful and mirrored Wookey's high-spiritedness, somewhat congruous with the audience interaction that had taken place throughout the show, but it was simply quite awkward. The time it took to assemble it, the switch to audience participation, etc. It was an odd if joyous decision. Yet, the majority of material, despite its repeated lack of interrelation, was highly enjoyable. To summarise, I would advise a re-evaluation of performance aims. How interrelated is the material? How seamlessly do the sub-narratives flow into each other and project from their encompassing narrative? What relationship do I sustain with my audience, and does this change too drastically at any point? “Comedic and endearing yet gritty. In need of a reduction of material.”

NB: In this review, as the characters are named after the performers, I have used forenames to refer to the former and surnames to the latter, for purposes of distinction. A hurried, nervous and excitable duo, Jonathan Parr and Eleanor Neylon (playing characters of the same name) welcome the audience into the Bread and Roses Theatre, ushering them to their seats and providing wine in plastic cups. Upon a bench covered in blue plastic wrap, a disinterested and casual Laura Vivio. She leafs through a plastic wallet, sat next to a table with plastic Evian bottles across from a large plastic sculpture veiled by a plastic bin bag. The word 'plastic' was used a lot there, you say? That is nothing compared to the explosive visual we are left with at the end of the performance when the precious sculpture is ripped to shreds and births heaps of plastic onto the stage, utterly swamping it with bottles, dishes and bags. The Enemies is a play born from a certain anthropocenic political era. But was this the message behind the play or a theme that propelled it along? The busy and interactive introduction to this play designates two things: 1. There is a direct relationship between the audience and the performer, as the audience are directly addressed; and 2. This play is to be one of high energy. Unfortunately, for me, both of these were lost almost immediately. When one decides to have a specific relationship with an audience, it is crucial to maintain this for continuity purposes as well as to ascertain that the audience know their role within the performance. Are they listeners who must be active and on their feet, engaging with the performers? Or are they passive spectators, witnesses to the action? I can only assume by the content of the performance, and by the ending in particular, that the premise of plastic consumption was to be tackled in a didactic, educative way. Do I feel that the performer-audience relationship facilitated this, however? No. Whilst the performers directly addressed the audience at the very beginning and sporadically throughout, there were huge portions of the play that shifted the focus from immersive and 'real' to distanced and fictitious. After Jonathan and Eleanor have anxiously (un)settled the audience, Laura, on stage, stands and declares that she cannot go on with the presentation for she has realised some facts that work against its cause. For a good while after this moment, there is a failure to acknowledge the audience. The fourth wall is built, so to speak, and a dialogue and narrative that distance the audience from the action ensue: the characters speak of 'the public' (i.e. the audience) who 'have yet to arrive', and an exclusive conversation begins between the characters as they dispute each other's opinions and debate the need to release newfound information. For a long while, the audience are made to watch the relationships between these characters unfurl and to hear a discussion they should not be hearing — as they have 'not yet arrived'…even though they have just been welcomed into the space and invited to ask for more wine whenever desired! A recognition of the audience is reinstated again and again as the characters interact with the audience, farcically offering even more wine, but this just makes it all the more unclear as to what the function of the audience is. As the play develops, the narrative turns its focus to the relationships between the characters: we learn that Eleanor and Laura are sisters; we see Eleanor manipulating Jonathan to side with her, tempting him with a proposition of work with The Times; and so on. However, these relationships further complicate the message — if there is, indeed, one — of the play. It is difficult to work out if the play is inspired by current actualities concerning plastic and the environment, speculating the lives of people living within such a sociopolitical context; or if the play is aiming to politicise and educate the audience on such hard-hitting moral matters. As I alluded to before, at the end of the performance, Laura has a speech that Vivio delivers standing in the middle of the audience. With her back to a great portion of them and directing it above the audience's heads, Vivio says, in summary, that we are brave if we stand by what we believe in alone and continue to do our bit [to better the environment]. So, this performance was meant to be educative! So, why the superfluous narratives amongst the information? Furthermore, if I am frank, not much information was really given. We learned one or two statistics, but the rest of the dialogue was highly repetitive and composed simply of arguments between Laura and Eleanor. The other thing I mentioned was the energy of the performers, which brings me on to characterisation and the characters themselves. This high energy at the beginning came to a peak at the end but faltered throughout. There was a stark contrast between Neylon and Parr's loud and frantic characterisation and Vivio's quiet and somewhat dry characterisation which drew attention to itself. Despite their energies, however, Neylon and Parr often fell short of depicting the intentions of their characters, for me. It was extremely difficult to work out, for example, at what moment Jonathan's opinion was changed by either Eleanor or Laura. Taking the example of Eleanor's bribing Jonathan with a work placement for The Times, Parr portrays Jonathan as utterly uninterested, making sarcastic and witty remarks. Then, suddenly, in the next scene, he is happily siding with Eleanor. But why was Eleanor's bribe so convincing, anyway? The open blouse would imply that Eleanor manipulates Jonathan through seduction, yet Neylon did not perform seductively, nor did she perform with a deceitful tone in her voice for us to say that she even manipulated him. Anger came too quickly for the two, as well, particularly for Neylon who would often erupt abruptly at Vivio. Though, I do believe this was due to the writing (by Laura Dorn) to some degree. As I mentioned before, the dialogue was extremely repetitive, a constant back and forth between Laura and the other two without any truly in-depth facts or opinions. The narrative seemed to focus primarily on their bitchy oneupmanship, which stilted the performance. Perhaps a directorial decision, however, was the stylised scene towards the end. Suddenly, Neylon is on her knees beside Parr staring up at Vivio. They are in a triangle formation. The performer at the front states their line and then they all swap anti-clockwise. After a few rotations, they start speaking certain phrases simultaneously. This was perhaps the crux of the political message of the play, but, if I am honest, I was so bewildered by the sudden change of performance style and by the growing volume of the ensemble that this message was quickly lost. And then we quickly go back to Eleanor asking Laura to retract all of her statements in order to work for the company again… On the whole, whilst this play had comedic elements — witty comebacks and an idealised plastic sculpture spilling tens of bottles onto the stage — everything about its performance style and aims was confused. Was it exaggerative and chaotic? Realistic? Stylised? Immersive? Distanced? Was it didactic and factual or dramatic and fictive? It was extremely difficult for me to allocate a clear and singular adjective to this performance, and that is what let it down the most. It felt as though it were a regurgitation of an anthropocenic dilemma mixed with fictive drama, not at all convincing. It is perfectly fine to rid a play of character, to have performers who simply embody and convey political messages. This, I feel, would have been a better angle for this performance. If not, then the entire play should have been the meeting, aiming to inform its audience, or a self-contained performance that followed the lives of two factory workers and a scientist dealing with the ills of plastic consumption. “A play hoping to set foot in a common domain yet approaching it hurriedly without true attention to potential reception.”

In this review: Summary: Secrets 'Only Professionally' 'It Was Funny the First Time' 'Just How It Is' 'Mote in Your Eye' Secrets, a night of new writing, produced by Jodi Burgess and taking place at The Lion and Unicorn Theatre in London, showcased four playwrights' pieces: 'Only Professionally', 'It Was Funny the First Time', 'Just How It Is', and 'Mote in Your Eye'. I will first start with a general overview of the night and then review each piece separately. Secrets This night was enjoyable. The overarching theme of secrets perforated every piece well, whether directly or indirectly. I would say that the theme was explored rather blandly through 'Mote in Your Eye' and 'It Was Funny the First Time', with the go-tos of secret sexualities and murders, but this had no serious impact on the enjoyability of the night. Overall, characterisation was good, and each piece had its own style and personality, feeding into its individual narrative effectively. An interesting selection. I would perhaps have considered set a tad more scrupulously, however, particularly for the extract from Megan Fellows's Telo, 'Just How It Is'. The mise-en-scène for this piece was by far superior to the others, being prop-heavy, involving technology, and having specific costume choices and a more elaborate set. Whilst this, indeed, worked well for this piece, it perhaps made the other pieces somewhat dull-looking in comparison. Yes, this piece relied more heavily on props and set than the other, more character-based pieces, but this would be something to consider. It just seemed odd, for me, to have a fully-polished extract amongst self-contained writings, and to have it treated differently in this way. Scene transitions were smooth, keeping the momentum of the night going, and lighting, in its on-off simplicity; was effective and aided this smoothness well. “A thematic and endearing night.” 'Only Professionally' by Gregory Skulnick Director: Velenzia Spearpoint Cast: Hayley Osborne (Actor) and Helen Jessica Liggat (Casting Director) This piece was very comical. The contrast of an upbeat enthusiast and an acerbic pessimist made for an interesting and engaging duo. Furthermore, the overhanging theme of nudity and rape was successful in creating an unsettling atmosphere, especially towards the end — the writing served well in this. Whilst there were the odd slip-ups on lines from Liggat, the two maintained a good characterisation throughout, each seeming to understand well their characters and their motives. The piece was very well-written, and despite its quite unnaturalistic dialogue, it maintained the small world it had created efficaciously. I liked that the Casting Director's intentions were somewhat blurred — was she a sexual abuser, or a victim of sexual abuse? And I felt this added to that unnerving ending. The only thing I felt was perhaps underworked was the Actor's progression (or, rather, regression) into accepting to forget her dignity and strip for the Casting Director. There seemed to be no real lead-up to this. Whilst the Casting Director wasn't particularly manipulative or suggestive with her words, the Actor seemed to suddenly obey her. Perhaps it was out of fear that she did this. If so, this was not clear. “A very poignant and disarming piece.” 'It Was Funny the First Time' by Ben Francis Director: Elizabeth Sian Crockett Cast: Dickon Farmar (Geoff) This piece I had mixed feelings about. The letter-writing I felt was a nice touch, subtly alluding to a sort of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy technique that Geoff might be being asked to try out. Additionally, linking the letter back to his beloved was an effective revelation, enabling us to share in his remorseful love. Its constant presence on the table was also effective in its demand to be recognised. The writing of the script itself, though I felt it possessed a somewhat naturalistic quality overall, felt unoriginal and staggered. Serial killers are so easily stereotyped in theatre, and I feel this was the case for this piece. The unsettled, volatile and erratic mind-frame of Geoff I felt to be typical, and this was further drawn attention to by Farmar's acting style. I felt it would have been more unnerving if Farmar had characterised Geoff more naturally. That is to say, if Geoff was presented as a character who spoke of his actions as completely harmless and normal, as opposed to shouting in an incessant rage, it would be more off-putting for spectators to watch; it would seem eerier and more confounding. However, Farmar's erraticism, I felt, took away from any poignancy and flew towards a mania with which it was hard to grapple and empathise (in a macabre way — for it is this comprehension that an audience would find unsettling in reflection, both on the performance and on their reactions to it). Perhaps if the characterisation had been muted a little, the writing would have worked, but, for me, it just felt too energetic. “A piece with potential but needing rework.” 'Just How It Is' - An Extract from Telo by Megan Fellows Director: Kennedy Bloomer Cast: Parys Jordan (Upstart) Thomas Mailand (Politician) As mentioned in my review of the night overall, the set for this piece was the most polished, and this, indeed, aided the performance. The dominatrix costume was comical and contrasted well with the drama of their situation and the seriousness of their occupations. Additionally, the countdown projected behind the stage added a slight tension whilst also adding a humorous texture to the anxious and time-keeping character of the Politician. As for performance, I found both of the actors' characterisations to be a little off, especially towards the end of the performance, for some reason. They both seemed rather wooden, especially Jordan; and whilst Mailand's characterisation was strong at first, his emotivity seemed to stiffen as the piece went on. The writing was good, but perhaps too focused on allusions to other characters and circumstances — though this may come across differently within the perception of the entire script, being simply an extract. Its plot was engaging and comical, and it definitely felt like an event in a sequence of scenes, which is what one would expect from an extract of a play. “Intriguing but lacking some vitality.” 'Mote in Your Eye' by Alexis Boddy Director: Jodi Burgess Cast: Sian Eleanor (Gillian) I must start by saying that the writing and concept for this piece were both superb. The mismatch texturing of monologues really captured Gillian's thought processes and the snippets of her memories as they came to her. These monologues all being pertinent to the same topic, all angles of Gillian's opinions on the matter of her sexuality and its reception were covered. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Eleanor's performance. Her acting style felt too energetic in certain places, and yet somehow she did not convey a single change in her thought process in others. It was only through the writing that the change of memories came through. Perhaps this was a decision made by Burgess to show that the memories are merging into one climactic distress, but I felt it difficult to engage with the material because of this. Of course, I would not have preferred an overdramatic change between thoughts, as this would have also been tiring to watch, but some variation is required. A specific moment I felt to be most fallible, however, was one in which the sound effect of a car speeding off was played. Seeing as the rest of the piece had been voice-heavy, this sound effect seemed very out of place and as though from nowhere. Additionally, there was the appearance of Sonia at the end of the soliloquy. The two shared a smile and a hug, and the lights dimmed. Whilst somewhat cute in itself, the action seemed very unnecessary and just awkward, especially as Sonia had only been mentioned late into the piece. The sudden emergence of a character who wasn't strictly essential to the narrative hence seemed a little odd. “A clever piece of writing but under-executed.”

This review will consider Christopher Cutting's play, The Accidental Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, directed originally by Anna Marshall, produced by Tobacco Tea Theatre Company and staged at White Bear Theatre. I will start with the mise-en-scène and the use of props. I felt that the props were extremely overused and cluttered the stage, particularly in transitions. Whilst this did add to the farcical madness of the performance, it felt that most of the props were unnecessary and used simply for comedic effect. The initial set comprised an armchair Upstage Left next to which sat a stuffed dog; a small serving cart Downstage Left labelled 'Orchestra Pit' on which sat various paraphernalia: tiny shoes, a tiny door and frame, a lidless box of what seemed to be wooden beads or husks, a service bell, and many others; and, finally, a coffee table Upstage Right with various obstacles on top of that as well. Whilst minimal in terms of stage proximity, these properties seemed cluttered and abundant. In the opening scene, Sophie Milnes (playing Dr John Watson, amongst other roles) and Joshua Phillips (playing Professor Moriarty, amongst other roles) bring the 'Orchestra Pit' serving cart Centerstage. After a slight tension between the two, over the precise placement of the cart — something I will return to later — the two sit and begin to 'mime' along to an audio clip, using the tiny shoes to mimic the sound of footsteps, opening and closing the tiny door to mimic the sound of a door opening and closing...we see where I'm going with this. It was extremely literal. But the most frustrating of these actions was the mime of thunder. Phillips lifts a small box that has 'thunder' written on it; Milnes lifts and drops the wooden beads from and into the lidless box; then an audio clip of thunder and rain...it was just simply too overdone for me. It would have been a million times more effective to do one of two simple things: perform a visual scape which alluded to the actions the two performers were attempting to mime, i.e. the simple use of the tiny shoes, the opening/closing of the tiny door; or a soundscape in darkness. Both permit the audience to use their imagination, and this makes the action — or audio — endearing and captivating. What is the point of suggesting or conveying the idea of thunder whilst simultaneously and literally producing it? If props are to be used in this way, one must consider their significance; if they are not a crucial element on which the entire performance's aesthetic or practicality pivots, they are absolutely unnecessary. It was decisions like these, repeated throughout the performance, that made it difficult to really engage with the material. Every two seconds, a joke was implanted, something 'went wrong', a prop was flown across the stage. The play was definitely lively and melodramatic, but not in an intriguing or useful way. I mentioned a tension between the two 'characters' at the beginning of the performance. In this play, there were continuous slapstick tensions between the characters that seemed to come from nowhere, particularly during transitions — which, again, were very cluttered and uneasy on the eye, not to mention rather bipartite with the repeated action of lifting a leg in a readied, hero-like stance before the music starts and the transition begins. From the very beginning where a tension arises from the placement of the serving cart and from one 'character''s use of hands to mimic the mouths of people talking on the audio clip, to moments in transitions where Holmes (Jasmine Atkins-Smart) and Dr Watson are scrambling over props; all seemed too mismatched. One minute, Dr Watson enthuses Holmes and the two have reached a joint understanding; and the next, they're fighting over a piece of paper and grunting at one another in a display of uneasy melodrama. This confusion was also reflected in the plot itself. The major difficulty for me as an audience member and, judging by their restlessness and the looks on their faces, for other audience members too, was transitioning from the 'comedy' of the former part of the play to the 'seriousness' of the latter part where Moriarty has captured Dr Watson. Suddenly, everything is severe; there are no jokes or melodramatic tendencies, and this felt off-putting, almost — and not in a well-thought-out and dramatic way. Then, the two seductively bite into a sausage, and a poorly crafted jacket with 'dynamite' strapped to it is launched at Dr Watson. It was hard to take this scene seriously, as per all the scenes, but it was so clear that this plot development aimed, for some reason, towards a more dramatic stance, which contrasted uncomfortably with the performance's style up to that moment. It was also difficult to keep up with the plot due to the sheer multitude of 'plot twists'. Towards the latter half of the play, a plot twist arose in practically every scene, and, having not been permitted to really engage with the material in the first place, these plot twists had little to no effect — other than confusing me. Then, there was a sense of metatheatre (that the production has prided itself on) caused by the revelation that certain characters had pretended to be other characters, where, in real life, they had multi-roled. Whilst this was quite comical, it made it incredibly difficult, especially with the last plot twist at the end, orchestrated by Dr Watson, to work out if this play wished to be comedic, serious or dramatic, or to laugh metatheatrically at itself. A sense of metatheatre was also reached in Holmes and Watsons's direct audience address when speaking of the 'link between knees and crime'. If the audience are included in this way, it should be a repeated element, crucial to the performance, and not just a one-off occurrence; if not, how does this fit in with the otherwise removed performance style. In short, the style was unbelievably confused. In fact, it claimed to be performed in a "Lecoq style". I can't begin to fathom where Lecoq's influences lie in this performance. No elements of this play were relatable to his pedagogy, ideology or theatrical practice at all. Only a mere homage to mimetic abstraction was present; nothing that screamed "Lecoq!" The comedy itself in this play was very overplayed and lacklustre, from the puns of 'tripping into the kitchen' likened to 'tripping' on drugs, to the overplay on props, to the slapstick deaths, tensions and mishaps. And this undeniably showed in many audience members who became visibly restless and daydreamy. As for characterisation, I have very little to say. It did feel that without the moustaches, skirts and other costume elements, it would have been more difficult to engage with the performers. I felt that the drawn moustaches and poor-quality props were an unbudging ode to a school performance as opposed to the craft of budding theatremakers. Whilst poor-quality or minimalist items in the theatre can, of course, enhance the world of a certain performance, here these just served as a reminder of the play's poor-quality theatrical decisions. All actors performed with energy, this is true, particularly Phillips who seemed to have a greater transformativity than the other two, if still rusty in places. Still, none were particularly astonishing, although I do feel the mixed style, writing and directorial decisions had a part to play in this. I will conclude with the writing. Whilst it was clear that the writer had certainly done an amount of research in writing this play, with particular terminologies and a peculiar lexical field, ordinary elements such as performance style, plot development and profound character identity were completely absent. It never felt for one moment as though a veritable story of Sherlock Holmes; rather, the extension of an exciting name attributed to a confused story about a babbling detective and his sneaky companion. The story was playful, yes, but not by any means in a beguiling and delightful way. “A performance with a confused and lacklustre style. Over-playful and unrefined.”

Job's a Good'Un is a one-woman show starring its very writer, Laura Taylor. Directed by theatre company Smol & Ginger's Rachel Lee, this play was performed at Camden People's Theatre. This play was clearly written by and, moreover, for someone with a knowledge of drama and its studies. I say this because jokes around this premise perforated its writing, and it was clear from studying the audience that the vast majority of them were, in fact, drama students. For this type of audience, who would focus less on content and more on technique, and excuse mishaps as part of the game, so to speak, I suppose the play did its job; for me, however, there were numerous elements I found to be rather unoriginal or over-concentrated, causing limitations on its versatility and multi-purpose. I will start with Taylor's performance. Whilst I commend her unfaltering energy, there were many moments that I felt took away from her characterisation, efficacy and overall engagement. For me, the overture, in which we see Taylor sat on the floor at her laptop, felt very calm and intimate and low-energy (not in a bad way). But, as soon as the action began, she became over-animated and energetic, her posture immediately changing, her actions bigger and precise. This sudden contrast was off-putting, almost as if she was preparing to perform, as opposed to having the momentum of the play finding its own way to the stage. Little moments like these, though very little, indeed, take away from the cogency of a performance. This was met with slip-ups of lines which, in turn, took its toll on Laura's chosen accent when coming back into action, and small hiccups and mishaps such as dropping the broom, dropping the iPod, etc. Whilst these hiccups are sometimes inevitable, it is the recovery that is key. Drawing attention to these hiccups is sometimes needed, as it was with the incident of the broom. And, for the broom, Taylor's cheekiness in reposing it against the wall was funny. However, for the iPod, Taylor chose to continue dancing, but only for a matter of seconds. When it is clear that her character, Laura, is no longer listening to music, it draws too much attention to itself to continue to dance. Whilst this would be more understandable if the dance was a crucial, long part of the scene, to only have to dance for two seconds more would render the dance pointless to continue. So, it would have been better to simply leave the iPod and continue to the next scene. Other moments where Taylor would laugh along with the audience members, or smile, coming out of her character, also took away from her performance, as well as an overuse of music and dance. Whilst Taylor performed scenes with high energy, elements within them and transitions between them caused the momentum of the play to slow down. This was somewhat to do with the constant water-breaks between scenes, but also to do with the dramatic techniques used. This performance was high on mimesis, and (lengthy) scenes dedicated entirely to miming job-related actions became very tiresome very quickly. For example, Laura explains a job wherein she would perform three tasks, including bar-tending and coat-hanging. The climax of these repeated mimetic actions, each designated its own location on the stage, was very cliché and overused throughout the performance. The focus on tasks and her failure to or success in performing them was definitely the main focal point of the performance, as the synopsis said it would be. However, I felt that the constant rotation around tasks and jobs made it difficult to truly understand Laura's character, and there hence seemed to be no real character development, only sudden impulses used to simply aid us along onto the next tasks she would perform. I felt either the focus needed to be completely on these jobs, removing Laura as a "character" and having her more as a "representer" of these ordinary job-related tasks, or on Laura's persona with the jobs as a catalyst for our understanding of it. For example, the idea of one of Laura's employers talking to her parents was an effective way to allude to Laura's personality. More moments like these would have made the performance more dynamic. Furthermore, this type of low-energy performance style in comparison with the quick-paced, unoriginal mime was much more successful for this play, for this reason. I felt also that the effectiveness of these actions was perhaps lost in their introduction. Rather than letting the mimesis speak for itself — as it did in a moment towards the beginning of the performance where Laura puts the newspapers she should be putting under people's doors in the bin — Taylor chose to introduce and explain every action before performing it. This, combined with the repetitiveness and unoriginality of the actions, lessened their enjoyability. To conclude, I would say that this performance had an interesting premise in wanting to construct a semi-autobiographical world full of daily tasks to get by in life financially. However, the concept of having this linked with the underdeveloped character of Laura took away from the efficacy of the performance. The character of Laura remained unnecessary and underdeveloped because it was used as a catalyst for the narrative of the jobs, whereas this order, if wanting to use character, should have been reversed. Whilst there were certainly humorous moments, and effective moments like the employer's conversation and the newspaper-binning, most actions were too overused and under-creative. “A piece with an interesting but underdeveloped premise.”

This review will consider Victory Day, performed at The Lion and Unicorn Theatre. I will start with characterisation. With the slight exception of John Pearson (playing Misha) and Seb Collinson (playing Chris), all performers were very lacking in energy, naturalism and overall performance. Nothing seemed to be performed realistically; everything seemed forced and wooden, as though a rehearsal as opposed to a performance. This was most inarguably a problem for Vanessa Hall (playing Sam), but real emotion was barely captured by any performer, except, really, by Pearson. This performer, whilst wooden in many places, retained humour, energy and credibility sporadically throughout the play. It is also worth noting Sasha Dulerayn's role as Victor Shurkov: his put-on accent was very inconsistent throughout the video, and, in general, it was just a very odd choice of character, although somewhat endearing towards the end. The fact that he was supposedly Russian just did not feel as though enough to settle him into the context of this play. Whilst having what one might consider a minor part in this production, Pfister seemed to uphold the highest stature and continuity. Every movement was true to that of a soldier, and whilst there were moments where posture or visual direction were lost, overall, a clear staple of character was demonstrated. The presence of Pfister is something I would like to elaborate on. I felt that if the play had been longer, or, rather, had given into moments where his presence was really drawn attention to, Pfister's constant being on stage would have been more effective. It felt as though he was simply a costumed stagehand as opposed to someone having a purposeful role, and this could have been averted by injecting moments of tension, drawing more attention to his presence, throughout the play. I would like to have seen him sitting within the scene, or facing the audience, somewhere really obvious and prominent, to really protrude into the audience's periphery and highlight the intimidating theme of war more poignantly. Also worth noting was the scene change before the 'dance' — rather, a series of movements — in the penultimate scene of the play: I found his weaving through the characters to clear chairs during the scene to be distracting and just a clumsy idea. Although basic, even a simple puppeteering of the other characters by him, leading them to clear the stage themselves in the same fashion he had been clearing it, and then into the dance, would have been better. His low-lit presence in the corner of the room just didn't feel as effective to me as it could have done. In fact, it seemed a very inane and indecisive element of the performance. The 'dance' itself was another thing I had an issue with. Some performers started with small gestures that built into frenetic dance moves; others, with full-body flailings from the off. It was a scene that felt highly unnecessary and random. The only relevance I could think of was linking it to the drug use in the preceding scenes, but this did not explain why Misha was involved in the dancing, seeing as he did not partake in that. Then, there's the over-poetic, melodramatic — yet, again, wooden — monologue by Juliette (Morgane Richard) that followed. This, along with practically every other scene in the play, felt so…out of place. The style was very confused, from technological to club-like to poetic to physical to (badly) realistic. Everything just seemed odd and unwilling to meld together as scenes. Then, there's another, extensive, monologue by Viktor Shurkov projected onto the screen. Compared to other scenes, this was by far the longest, and yet, there was not a lot to conclude with or take from it. The writing of this play felt very directionless and unnaturalistic, perhaps leading to the wooden acting style, and it seemed as though the play was attempting to tackle an enormous range of topics, from drugs to war to love to death to sex, and in such a sedulously short amount of time. It would have been better, I believe, to take one or, at most, a couple of these topics and really investigate them through one or, again, just a couple of theatrical modes. The topic of war seemed to be the most pertinent amongst these topics, leading to the characters' abrupt and seemingly-otherwise-impertinent demise, and so this topic would have been better to investigate more profoundly — perhaps this is where the soldier's presence would have been more effective. Random insertions of speeches from David Cameron just weren't enough to link the plot and narrative with aim. Whilst there was an abundance of humorous moments, there perhaps lacked some sincerity in treating the issues, both in performance style and plot. An especially pertinent example of this consists of Dulerayn's entrance as a drug dealer, referring to his being in a "fringe theatre" i.e. employing yet another theatrical mode, metatheatre. Did this scene really have to happen? What effect did it have? Did this drive the momentum of the plot or inhibit it? Why? These are questions I felt unanswered by any potential creative thought behind this decision. I overheard another spectator say at the end of the performance, “I don't know what I just watched.” And whilst I obviously cannot declare precisely what she meant by that, I can only say, I agree wholeheartedly with the objective statement as it stands alone. Then, on to set. I found the basic set of five stools to be effective in its simplicity. The huge white iPhone, used as a screen onto which images were projected, was also somewhat effective, particularly in the farm scenes. Though, was it necessary? Arguable. For example, the projection of the word 'enlisted': “Okay…why is that important?” I asked myself. And 'enlisted' was the only word to be displayed and then possessed not a single significance or relevance to the rest of the play. Why was it projected, then? Similarly, the image of a fallen tree and a cow. “Okay, the tree added a second of humour, but would the scene had survived without it? Yes. Would we have realised we were on a farm without the cow? Yes!” Every decision just felt as though lacking care and precision. Lastly, lighting. It is an extremely bad idea to interweave colour and a harsh white strobe. Not only is it painful for spectators, but the vision naturally blurs and we can't see anything. This happened a lot during this performance. Not only that, but it was discontinuous, causing even more of a strain on the eye. The white stroboscopic lighting on its own would have been enough for the desired effect. Why red lighting was inserted on top of this, I really do not know. "A very eclectic, confused performance, attempting to tackle a huge range of topics, proving weak and shambolic."

This witty one-woman show focuses on the life of Carolann, a menopausal introvert struggling to find her "inner bitch" whilst attempting, somewhat victoriously, sexual relations along the way. When I first entered the house, I was greeted by a stage that was bare apart from a jacket slumped over a chair and a microphone resting upon a stool. Over the low music playing for the audience, a mixture of soft folk and soul, I could hear an off-putting array of whispering from within the wings. I had a slight fear that this would be a rather rudimentary and low-energy monologue. Paula David (playing Carolann, having written this play) then entered, and my fears of dissatisfaction were met. She spoke in an unrealistic fashion, incongruously to natural patterns of speech, and her monologue seemed to jump nonlinearly from idea to idea, though I believe this latter was due to the writing. David started by introducing herself in the flashback setting of her BTEC Music solo performance in college. She remarked the various spectators she could remember, before singing into the microphone. She then performed a 'dialogue' between Carolann and her daughter. The shifts between these two characters were annoyingly subtle, though. As for all the characters she portrayed, David rather simply faced one way for Carolann and another for the character with whom Carolann was conversing. However, David would often mix up the turns, and the characters would suddenly be looking the wrong way. This was, in fact, a problem repeated sporadically throughout the play's entirety. For most of the performance, David faced Stage Left. I was sat to the very left of the audience and so could only see the back of her head for a good amount of the performance. Additionally, not only was she facing Stage Left but she was facing the wings of Stage Left, which meant that wherever anyone was sat, a slightly obscured profile view would be visible, not helped by the volume of her untied hair. The voices used were effective for the female characters she portrayed, but the males started to sound identical; on top of that, whereas the females each had a specific tick which quickly denoted their character for the audience, such as Carolann's daughter's twiddling of her hair, the male characters seemed to have nothing at all but that samey voice. Unfortunately, I must also draw attention to David's many line slip-ups. This took away from the humour quite drastically in places, replacing a quick, sharp and witty tongue with one which was tied and laden. So, this was my opinion for about the first third of the performance. However, I later came to believe that David simply needed some time to warm up. Her characterisations were rather thwarted by her somewhat low energy towards the beginning, but somehow, this energy began to gradually increase. This may have had something to do with the content of the play, which was busying with every line and becoming increasingly crass and crude in its sexual humour (in the most positive and relatable of ways); it may have permitted her to loosen up a bit, I feel. Whatever the reason, David became more and more endearing, lively and watchable. At first, I found Carolann's songs a tad wearisome. They seemed to have no relevance to me, but as the character of Carolann developed, along with David's portrayal of her, these songs seemed to represent public awkwardness or assumed inferiority, as if she was continuously launched back into the insecure mentality of performing her BTEC Music solo to her doubtful and discouraging classmates. The songs' subject matters changed accordingly with the narrative, making them more and more meaningful. They added a sense of personality and quirkiness to Carolann's character whilst alluding to a theme of social pressure. But whilst the majority of songs came directly from this flashback setting, it was when the songs surfaced organically from the narrative that they were most effective. For instance, her singing straight after having had sexual intercourse with "Mr Looksogood". Carolann becomes adorable and loveable in her social awkwardness. To launch us back into BTEC Music, a dim and diluted white wash would cover the stage, and David would reach for the microphone. This was simple and effective, regularly drawing the performance back to this dark area of Carolann's memory. Unfortunately, though, lighting was otherwise rather inefficacious throughout. Whilst music effectively brought us back to the solo setting, or amplified moments wherein Carolann felt 'bitchy' or saucy, lighting seemed to be used haphazardly. Rather primitively, a different lighting state was used for every scene, the only state having any pertinence to the play being that of the Bad Bitches club scene wherein the lighting becomes psychedelic, mimicking disco lights. Other than this, lighting seemed to be used rather unreflectively and unproductively. Moreover, the operation of the lights was also pretty poor in places; lights would often dim or come on before the current scene had ended and the following scene had begun. Yet, amongst the comedy, the wavering characterisation and the multi-roling lies a deep network of unspoken yet natural feminine topics which bring unnecessary social shame to women, particularly those middle-aged. The play pivots around the menopausal woman and how her relationships, both romantic and platonic as well as professional and familial, are affected simply by her age and its effects on the body. We are presented with not only a feminist voice which attacks the views of misogyny in adulterous relationships through Carolann's first boyfriend's affair, but also one which aims to popularise and naturalise what is shared and natural amongst women in a humbling yet stern way: vaginal drying and lubrication, masturbation, sweating, sexual desire and sexuality, etc. Not only does this play convey messages on the social view on the ageing female body but it also reflects social pressures within our postmodern popular culture, particularly amongst black females, to 'release your inner bitch'. It has certainly become second nature to feel entitled and or to feel the need to 'slay', as it were, to be accepted, respected or estimable. Carolann's timidity placed in this context demonstrates nicely the obscurity of this behaviour. The biographical quality of Paula David's writing, then, certainly aids the narrative in its likeability and relatability. I was, however, rather bemused when I learned that Paula David was the writer of this play as well as its performer. I just had the sense that somehow the expressivity and sense of the writing had been lost in the translation to performance. It was almost as if she did not understand her own writing, or, at least, that she could not emote successfully enough herself to represent her play in the optimal way. “A humorous performance with deeper undertones, if a little downplayed here and there.”

With a needle in one hand and a white cloth in another, Marcus Frewin-Ridley (playing Rupert) sits in one of four sections bordered by long strips of white tape converging Downstage Center. Seeming anxious and disturbed, he glances over at the body of a male covered by a shroud of white. This intriguing visual is the opening of The Men Who Made Frankenstein, written and directed by Simon Christopher and staged at the Etcetera Theatre. I will start this review by considering this play's dramatic text. The concept for this play is one that is creative and engaging. Whilst the common literary error to speak of Frankenstein's Monster as Frankenstein himself is made in this play's title (though, not in its synopsis), this allusion to Frankenstein causes a myriad of images to arise in the audience's mind, making a successful link between an intermingling of body parts and the creation of a monster. Taking characters out of their everyday environments and placing them in a confounding and mysterious purgatory is always a captivating thematic, making a good premise for this play. However, I will say that this premise was perhaps too weighted in performance. Most of the dialogue centred itself around the characters being trapped in this dystopia: What will they do to us? Who are they? Why are we here? And upon the fact that they had mostly all been hanged before their 'death'. Little was developed upon in terms of the characters themselves, however. Throughout the entire play, all we discover about Rupert, for example, is that he is Christian, from his quoting of the Bible, and Margaret (played by Kendall Turner) rather frustratingly brings a voice of relentless feminism and nothing else in the way in which she refers to men and her body in relation to them. I felt that this vast lack of character depth made for a uni-layered plot, although this did improve towards the end of the play. Furthermore, this lack of depth was highly pertinent to Edward's (Calvin Crawley) character whenever he masturbated in the corner of his cell. I felt that this was an explicit moment that would have been more effective as implicit. To have him talk of women to the women on stage in a vulgar and implicit way, detailing what he would do if he could, would be much more sinister and would better pull through the themes of sin and misogyny. This would have also been more effective for the audience when his penis was cut, for this would have made the audience revel in his pain, and then, as he grew sympathy for Rupert and showed his weaker, more vulnerable side, this would have allowed for a deeper empathy from the audience, heightening the play's sense of horror. However, as it stood, Edward's masturbation simply brought social awkwardness and lewd humour, having little dramatic effect. I also felt that certain aspects of the text were not fully understood by the actors. There were a few moments where actors would say a line that should clearly have been said in a different way. This was particular of Katie Clement (playing Modesty); for example, for the moment when Modesty explains to Edward that the cryptic letter they have received is written in longhand and that she had taught this to some children she had been looking after when she was 'alive', Clement performed acerbically, hissing her lines at Crawley. I felt this should have been more of a startled and bewildered response as she read the letter to herself, frustrated with Edward's cocky annoyances, as opposed to a comeback. Other suchlike moments took away from the true meaning of the text, I thought. This brings me on to characterisation. The first thing that strikes me when considering characterisation is the decision to have Rupert crawling on all fours around the stage. Whilst I felt this to be somewhat necessary — what reason would he have to stand in his cell? — and rather symbolic of the fact that his arms and legs would soon be amputated, it was the animalistic quality of this crawling that did not sit well with me. Perhaps this was to show that the time he had endured alone, full of immense anxiety, had made him as though a wild animal, but I do not think this would be a powerful enough reason. As for Calvin Crawley, though a bit too shouty in places, I felt that he was the most refined character out of the four, though this could have certainly been down to the writing's incessant focus upon his character. I did feel that there was a lack of realism, especially towards the end where Edward becomes more sympathetic towards the other prisoners, but he did perform with adequate energy. Kendall Turner, however, I felt to be much too bi-layered in her performance. Either she was shouty or paranoid — both in a rather plastic way. There was a set rhythm she had chosen to perform her character in which made her performance seem unrealistic and forced. She was certainly the most physical of the cast, but I do not believe that this was to her favour. Lastly, Katie Clement. As I mentioned before, there were moments particular to Clement's performance where I found the writing to be misinterpreted. Clement seemed at points to not be sure of what she was saying — or she was too sure and, in fact, erroneous. Other than this, an average performance. I have already mentioned the set in the introduction to this review: long white tapes dividing the stage into four equal triangles, their points converging Downstage Center. Whilst I felt that this was an efficient use of space and angularity, I was a tad confused by the topography of the cells that these represented. Oftentimes, characters switched cells without any acknowledgement of or confusion about this, which leads me to wonder if these changes were not changes of cells but changes of points of view for the audience. The borders of each cell also seemed completely ignored in transitions where Frankenstein (Christopher Mawson) entered the stage. Characters were able to see each other and physically interact with one another, perhaps meaning that these cells were barred, but this was unclear. In short, an efficient visual but unrefined in its explanation. In regards to costume, the white shrouds — and, at some points, lack of costume altogether — effectively forced the audience to consider the bodies of the characters, making amputations and operations more effective. The black sleeves used for Rupert's arm amputations were highly effective in inspiring the belief that they had been removed — though he did calmly walk back onto the stage, with amputated legs — but I would note that the bandages should have met with the sleeve, otherwise it's an open wound and the bandages are meaningless. The bloody material on Modesty's abdomen was also effective, alluding to a botch-job surgery in its inelaborateness. There is not much to say about lighting (operated by Sam Gilham, who also operated sound). It was rather basic — not in a negative way — with natural lighting throughout and blackouts and red washes for transitions. Music (produced by Gareth Rhys Prior) and sound, on the other hand, were used quite prolifically. The Researcher's (Nicole van Niekerk) voiceover at the beginning of the play set the period and feel of the piece very well. However, I did feel that it rapidly lost its effect towards the end due to its repetitiveness. Also, I will add that van Niekerk seemed to stumble on her words, and unedited mouth squelching sounds throughout were very off-putting. I cannot say if these were both intended, although I will say that these should be considered. The repeated sound of gas also worked well. The music successfully created tension and suspense, making use of techno drones and syncopations, and the change of music, from normal scene-change transitions to transitions in which Frankenstein entered the stage to reap from the four bodies, made for a successful change in mood. I have spoken of transitions quite a lot in this review, and so I feel it is important to detail their impact further. During transitions, it was unclear if we were seeing the characters in their cells in real-time or if we were seeing the actors preparing for the next scene. The exit sign above the door in the theatre space and the bleached white of the shrouds meant that the actors were incredibly visible during blackouts. Whilst one cannot help certain features of the performance space, it is important to note the effect they will have on the performance, and I feel that, to some extent, this was done. However, as the performers are made so visible during these transitions, it is important that they have particular things to do during them. This could have been a minimal physical movement depicting the suffering of the characters or differentiated actions that show the characters' behaviours in their cells. There were also a few moments when the characters were gassed that actors performed becoming unconscious very drastically and unrealistically, sharply falling to the ground, but this was infrequent, and these moments were otherwise effective. The last thing I will say about transitions is that they were unbelievably slow and lengthy at times where they need not have been. This decelerated the momentum of the performance, which is almost never a good thing. Lacking some realism in places, this performance made otherwise for a very good piece of theatre with a strong premise and pragmatic stage design. I would note, however, that this play's synopsis claims that the play is a dissection of the ethics of the ownership of the human body after death; this I completely disagree with. “A gory and intriguing play, if in need of certain ameliorations.”

"High on energy, low on iambic pentameter" is definitely an apt summary for Lumo Company and Full Sail Productions Ltd.'s MacBETTI, taking to the London and Brighton Fringe. This review is of the Brighton performance at the Marlborough Theatre. Heidi Niemi's humorous and energised performance paired well with one-liners and melodrama to encompass a different take on William Shakespeare's Macbeth. Her show possessed a clear focus on visual imagery and mime – from using an asthma pump, to beheading a jacket, symbolic of Macbeth – and this was, for the most part, effective and comical. Niemi's characterisations were funny and, mostly, clear. She had made a gestural base, such as a lifted eyebrow, the taking of the asthma pump, etc., to create an easy portrait for the audience – but, perhaps maybe too easy? There were, however, moments in quick changes where characters were unclear or lost, and diction was sometimes terrible, further clouding this. Also, particular choices in characterisations were confusing...for example, why she had chosen to perform one of The Witches as a swearing rapper complete with knuckle dusters and a shiny cap. Her mime, though, was pleasing and satisfying. Effective. And her cross-dressing (as well as that of the Prompter (Gus Kennedy Jacob), the character of whom I will address later) made a tingling signal to a common Shakespearean practice. As for her set – a frame with a closed curtain, Upstage Centre; a microphone, speaker and computer setup, Downstage Right – it was minimal and somewhat unflattering, but fed well into the allusiveness of her performance. The curtain, for example, enabled an allusion to a puppet show, burlesque, etc. Niemi's performance space covered the stage; just outside, through the exit (where she disappeared at one point); and the audience space. And this leads me on to my next point of focus: audience participation. Whilst Brighton audiences tend to like audience participation and so this kept the interest up and the energy flowing, I couldn't help but feel the audience participation to be highly unnecessary. Towards the end of the play, audience members are given a huge bulk of stemmed leaves to share around, and towards the beginning of the play, I myself was given a teddy bear to hold (symbolic of Macduff's Son). Whilst the handover of the teddy bear was comical, the leaves were questionable, and both objects possessed an awkward stasis in the audience once the scene was complete. Also towards the beginning, when Niemi enters as Lady Macbeth, she presents to an audience member a piece of text to be read aloud. This seemed extremely pointless to me and took away, I thought, from the politics of her performance. The politics was ineffably diluted. As Niemi herself states boldly in rhyme at the beginning of the performance, MacBETTI is supposed to, almost, showcase a woman's talent in being able to perform an array of characters not available for women in theatre. It is presented as a feminist approach to convey how she is just as able to perform these characters as is a man. Why would she, then, give this piece of text to a male audience member to read? Furthermore, we have the character of the Prompter. The very necessary presence of this – again, male – character confounded me greatly. When at first only speaking stage directions, "Scene [Number]", "Enter [Character]", etc., this was a clever echo to the writings of a man being performed by a woman. Similarly, when Jacob "forgets" his lines, this is a clever allusion to the fallibility of the male performer. However, when her mime became dependent on sound effects he made in the microphone, or when he was given segments of the show all to himself whilst Niemi remained offstage or altogether out of the room, his significance became a blur. It felt as if his character undermined the feminist messages of the play. If she could do all of these characters alone, as a woman, why didn't she? Couldn't she have done the sound effects herself, mimed the other characters as she did elsewhere in the show? Or, moreover, why wasn't the Prompter a woman? "One woman. All the roles. A quest for total power", and yet, she didn't seem very powerful at all. Whilst some moments felt very effective and dramatic, such as a dark stage and a torchlit figure (The Witches) skulking into the scene from behind the curtain, others felt ridiculous: the first appearance of The Witches where Niemi covers herself in a sheet and bobs up and down with flailing arms. Whilst entertaining for the first few minutes, this slowly became an infantile emblem. The show was, indeed, very prop-heavy, which was not necessarily a bad thing at all, but it is worth considering if this stole too much from her ability to physicalise these characters and emote the narrative alone. “Comical yet clouded.”

Wonderfully written by D C Moore and performed at the National Theatre, Common captures beautifully the essence of another world. From costume, designed by Richard Hudson, to the actors' trained dialects, honed in by Charmian Hoare, this play produced from every angle an ambient 19th Century. What is first most notable is the music in this performance. A recurrent, tribal-like rhythm throughout the play thematised the action well, only changing towards the end when a new main event, so to speak, had taken place. This was matched with a satisfying layer of vocals from the actors. Whilst some vocals were, indeed, off at points, the vast majority of these aided the atmosphere the music created greatly. What is next notable is the visual aspect of the performance. As I mentioned in my introduction, the costume was utterly sublime, well-tailored and unfalteringly reminiscent of the period. But, it also held a sense of symbolism. For example, the crow feathers in Mary (Anne-Marie Duff)'s hat, wonderfully implicative of her mysticality and performed clairvoyance. This leads me on to the function of the crows themselves. Scattered throughout the play were puppets made by Laura Cubitt. These added a comical and delightful element to the performance. However, in terms of set design, I would note that the crows suspended from the ceiling in the beginning of the performance were quite tacky, with wires on show. This, of course, did not affect the rest of the performance but was not a pleasing sight to walk in to. The overall set was very minimal, but other effects such as fire, trap doors and the overall performance of the actors kept this from being disruptive. Whilst the idea of having holes and earth on stage was an efficacious one, I felt its execution was ineffective in places. For example, in the Second Act where Mary rises from below the ground. As she simply tore herself from a brown fabric and came out completely clean, the result was messy and took away from the illusion of the performance. As for lighting and sound, the thunderstorm in the Second Act was most successful. It is so easy to simply hose the stage from above and capture rain, and this is not what the effect in Common. A beautiful image of clouds, and the sounds of thunder, paired with a dimly-lit stage, enabled the mind to wander and imagination to run. This was the same for the fire in the Second Act. The only negative thing I have to say about lighting refers to the use of spotlights. These were largely used to illuminate Mary when she delivered monologues and asides. However, there were moments throughout the First Act when Mary delivered her asides without a spotlight, with other characters present on stage. As the spotlights were not consistent, and Duff did not approach the front of the stage to talk to the audience herself, it was sometimes unclear as to whether she was conversing with the other characters or, indeed, talking to us. On to characterisation, which was, for the most part, strong and believable. It must be said that I favoured Lois Chimimba's characterisation greatly, both as Young Hannah and as Eggy Tom; however, her death as the latter character was too energetic and unrealistic. Death scenes seem to be the hardest to perform for actors, and this was true of all deaths in this performance, barring that of Laura (Cush Jumbo). Neither underperformed nor exaggerated, as the other deaths were, Jumbo's death scene was highly effective and commendable. Next, the stage-fighting between the Heron (Trevor Fox) and the Harvest King (John Dagleish). Awkward. Punches were clearly missed and were paired with awkward utterances of pain and anger which need not have been made. I felt it would have been more effective to have had this fight in silence, covered by the music and, perhaps, the deep beat of a drum or a soft scrape of a cymbal - something more dramatic than pitiful winces (and, of course, it would have been more effective to have made the punches...seem like punches). My prayers were answered, however, in a later fight in the Second Act, where the Ensemble ran towards the Lord (Tim McMullan)'s men in gripping slow-motion. I found this moment most entrancing, especially with the clever 'resurrection' of the dead characters to represent more people coming to fight. Though I have been harsh in these points of focus, I must ingeminate that the characterisation was very good and illusive. It was just perhaps in the odd overdramatic moment where the illusion was lost. Whilst the odd trip up in intonation and delivery did arise, the dialect, too, was mastered well by all actors. “Otherworldly and entrancing.” Photography property of National Theatre London. Credit: Johan Persson.