Double-bill part one: #6. Constellations

Constellations by Nick Payne

Premiere:  Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Upstairs, London (13 January 2012)

Published by Faber and Faber 

A double bill of two tremendous Royal Court plays today to make up for lost time. First off is Nick Payne's stunning Constellations, one of the Royal Court's big successes of the past few years. It was originally produced in the intimate Upstairs space, and then quickly transferred to the Duke of York's in the West End, followed by a Broadway run, a U.K. Tour, and tomorrow finishes its second West End run at the Trafalgar Studios.

Nick Payne's concise two-hander tells the infinite stories of Marianne and Roland's relationship through quantum multiverse theory. Payne fits more into this short play than many writers can fit into epics, dealing with notions of free will, friendship, love and bee sex, all with incredible intellect but more importantly, with heart. The centre of it all is a very real boy-meets-girl romance, which grounds the complex scientific concepts in relatable human experience. 

At one point Marianne, explains multiverse theory; “every choice, every decision you’ve ever and never made exists in an unimaginably vast ensemble of parallel universes”. Payne, in a stroke of brilliance, puts this theory into action.

Through the heart of the often hilariously juxtaposed repetitions is the electric pulse of real human pain, and this is what makes this play so exhilarating.

In this one relationship, you see infinite possibilities play out. Take their meeting, for instance. They meet at a barbecue. The first time you see the scene play out, Roland shuts Marianne down, saying he is in a relationship. Then you see the same scene again, but Roland has just come out of a relationship. Then he's married. Then, finally they are able to get passed the start of the conversation as neither of them has reason to object. This patten plays out across the play as the focus falls on key events; what they do after their first date, one of them cheats on the other, they meet again and may or may not get back together, and so on. The story itself is touching without being sentimental. Payne uses this framework to discuss free will and scientific theories, but does so as if he is exploring the options, playing with it to figure it out, rather than having preconceived answers that he is serving to the audience. 

Through the heart of the often hilariously juxtaposed repetitions is the electric pulse of real human pain, and this is what makes this play so exhilarating.

While we see the chronological trajectory of the relationship, we occasionally jump into the future, working backwards as the final days of the relationship are revealed. Marianne is terminally ill, and Payne explores all the depths of this unflinchingly. Payne's final kicker is that time itself, in quantum multiverse theory, is not how we conceive it; it is not a straight line. He delivers this in one final hopeful scene. 

The writing is a gift to creatives; it is meticulously written and structured but leaves incredible freedom to the actors and director to play with it to find their own understanding of the characters. This seems perfect; there are as many different versions of this play in performance as there are possibilities in the multiverse. That is exciting, confident writing. 

Payne's play is sensitive and clever, and certainly cememnts Payne's reputation as one of our very best contemporary playwrights. I would urge you, if you can, to get to see one of the last performances of Michael Longhurst's stunning production at the Trafalgar Studios. If you can't, grab a copy of the script and discover your own multiverse. 

Rafe Spall and Sally Hawkins in the original West End production

Runs at the Trafalgar Studios until Saturday 1 August 2015. Tickets available here.

Buy on Amazon here.

#5. The Pitchfork Disney

Nathan Stewart-Jarrett as Cosmo
Disney in the 2012 revival.

The Pitchfork Disney by Philip Ridley
Premiere: Bush Theatre, London (2 January 1991)
Published by Methuen Drama

Philip Ridley's debut play, The Pitchfork Disney, was a controversial hit when it premiered at the Bush Theatre in 1991, and Edward Dick's 2012 revival at the Arcola was heralded as a prophecy that had come of age. Aleks Sierz credits it with sparking the new wave of in-yer-face writing during the 1990s from writers like Sarah Kane and Mark Ravenhill. Is all this praise really due?

It is without a doubt a bold debut, announcing the arrival of an audacious new writing talent. Ridley sets it in a dimly lit room in the East End of London, inhabited by infantilised twins Presley and Haley Stray who fantasise they are the only survivors of a nuclear holocaust. Their agoraphobia is extreme; the only time either of them leaves the flat is to restock on chocolate or the medicine their parents used to take.

"You know why the ghost train is so popular? Because there are no ghosts. Once you know that you can make a fortune." Cosmo

They live stably in the stagnancy of exchanging stories about the past, their dreams, and horror stories of the outside world to keep reality at bay. That is, until Presley spots a beautiful young man on the street outside who is apparently sick, and invites him in. It is Cosmo Disney, a sequinned perfection who makes a living eating insects alive onstage. Cosmo, along with his sinister associate Pitchfork Cavalier, aggressively invades the safety of the twins world. Worse still, Cosmo is drawn to Haley's vulnerability and knows exactly how to exploit Presley's attraction to him.

The power play between the characters is fascinating. Ridley sets up a very dynamic relationship of mutual reliance between Presley and Haley in the first section, before disrupting it in Presley's desire to please Cosmo. Cosmo brings with him a different bag of tricks for surviving the world, which he demonstrates for Presley. His ethos in life is this: "You know why the ghost train is so popular? Because there are no ghosts. Once you know that you can make a fortune."

Mariah Gale (Haley) & Chris New
(Presley) in the 2012 revival.

What is truly impressive is Ridley's ability to marry harrowing psychological realism with poetic fantasy. Presley and Haley have regressed to childishness, living in the house of their dead parents. His depiction of their curious mental state and their desperation to rediscover the comfort and safety of childish innocence, is shrewdly accurate. The centrepiece of the play is Presley's mammoth monologue where he invents the beautiful but cruel child murderer, the Pitchfork Disney himself, in a story which climaxes in the destruction of the world in nuclear fallout, before ending with invincible solitude as the only survivor.

Ridley's writing is intensely poetic. Writing of this potency is rare even in from the more experienced playwrights, yet Ridley shows his unequaled ability to conjure even the most disturbing images. From the sizzle of burning snakes, to the crunch of cockroaches being eaten alive, to the howls of rabid dogs, his imagery is unique, expressive and affecting. There is something primal and visceral in the imagery Ridley uses that doesn't weaken with age - it grabs something deep in your soul and refuses to loosen its grip.

The play itself, in all its surrealist strangeness and storytelling fervour, is like a nightmare itself. It seems to exist in the nowhere world of dreams, where the recognisable is suddenly alien and the cruelness of life is uncensored. Ridley finds a palette of aggressive imagery and characters caught in dream-state. The gothic vision of East London with its echoes of Cold War paranoia, desperate violence and sexual hysteria is rooted in a wider commentary on a society of anxiety and fear. Nothing is gratuitous - it is meticulously economic storytelling. Ridley's prophecy, over two decades on, still feels timely.

What is truly interesting about this play, and indeed all three in the unofficial 'East End Gothic Trilogy' - The Pitchfork Disney, The Fastest Clock in the Universe and Ghost From a Perfect Place - is that for all the imagery of post-apocolyptic worlds and abandonment, the plays are still very much set in the real world. This is interesting when compared to later plays like Mercury Fur which are in fact really set in some sort of dystopian apocalyptic future. The Pitchfork Disney experiments with these ideas, but there is something even more haunting in the fact that they are fantasies in the minds of his characters.

The Pitchfork Disney is a modern masterpiece; it is, in fact, little wonder that it is credited with rewriting the rules of British theatre.

Nathan Stewart-Jarrett (Cosmo) and Mariah Gale (Haley) in the 2012 London revival.

Buy on Amazon.
Philip Ridley's new play, Tonight With Donny Stixx, will play at the Pleasance at the Edinburgh Fringe this summer. Find out more here.

#4. The House of Mirrors and Hearts

The House of Mirrors and Hearts by Eamonn O'Dwyer & Rod Gilbert

Premiere: Arcola Theatre, London (July 2 2015)

Runs until 1 August. Tickets available here.

In a slight deviation from form I wanted to cover this stunning new musical, The House of Mirrors and Hearts, which is playing at the Arcola Theatre until the end of this week. I'm not a reviewer, and that is not what this blog is about, but it is rare that you see new writing of this calibre. 

Written by Eamonn O'Dwyer and Rod Gilbert, The House of Mirrors and Hearts is a new chamber musical about grief, lies, and dysfunctional love. It tells the story of the Keanes, a family who's lives were shattered by the violent death of their father and husband, and who now live in a home of buried truths and disconcerting fantasies. With the arrival of the newest lodger, the sensitive literature enthusiast Nathan, his discoveries threaten to shatter the family's world forever.

Ryan McBryde has created a beautiful, engaging production; he directs his stellar cast with style.

It is clear with this show how much time, effort and love has been spent nurturing and developing it. It's years in development with Perfect Pitch, and Ryan McBride's sensitive direction have brought this angular, challenging piece to glittering life on the Arcola stage. It is a testament to the work of Perfect Pitch and producers like Katy Lipson (Aria Entertainment) in bringing contemporary new works to audiences. 

O'Dwyer and Gilbert's story is a riveting, dark psychological thriller which surprises at every turn. O'Dwyer's music is stunningly written; it is detailed, immaculate composition, at times dissonant and jagged, at others haunting and delicate. The small three-piece band plays Jo Chichonska's arrangements perfectly, filling the space under musical director David Randall's able hand. 

Gillian Kirkpatrick as Anna

The cast is sublime, led by the superb Gillian Kirkpatrick as Anna, the widowed mother. It is a vituosic performance, ranging from riotous vixen in her ode to alcohol 'Something for the Pain' to maternal tenderness in 'I Could Promise You'. Her voice has moments of haunting hollowness and fearsome passion. Kirkpatrick is astounding. 

She is joined by Molly McGuire and Grace Rowe as her daughters Lily and Laura, and a charming Jamie Muscato as Nathan. Muscato gives a charming, sensitive performance; not only does he have a tremendous voice, but he is a true actor. The attention to detail in his performance is a joy to watch in such an intimate setting. McGuire as Lily is similarly engaging, giving a painfully natural performance of great range. 

Director Ryan McBryde has created a beautiful, engaging production; he makes great use of the quirky main space at the Arcola and directs his stellar cast with style. 

The production is what we in the theatre industry seem to constantly be calling for: great new British writing with a fantastic team in a great space. We ought to be supporting this kind of new work. The night I was at the show it was a rather empty house. This is criminal. I urge you, I implore you, to please go and see this show, and support the work of producers who take risks on this kind of theatre. The House of Mirrors and Hearts is in its final week of performances at the Arcola. It deserves to be playing to a full house every night. So please, go buy your tickets now!

Runs until 1 August 2015 at the Arcola Theatre, London. Tickets available from £14. 

For more information and to buy tickets click here.

#3. Beautiful Thing

20th Anniversary revival cast 2013

Beautiful Thing by Jonathan Harvey

Premiere: Bush Theatre, London (28 July 1993)

Published by Methuen Modern Plays

Jonathan Harvey’s play Beautiful Thing is one I keep coming back to. I first read it at secondary school (a surprisingly long time ago now!) and I adored Nikolai Foster’s tremendous 20th Anniversary revival at the Arts Theatre a few years ago. I recently found a dog-eared, heavily annotated copy of the script on my shelf – with all the swear words replaced, presumably to make it acceptable to the archaic, omnipotent secondary school sensors – and thought I’d give it another read.

Beautiful Thing is without a doubt a seminal play about young gay love, and it is no wonder that it is still so popular with audiences. Harvey really captures a true sense of the early 1990s, now appropriated as ‘retro’ by uber-cool Hackney hipsters. Harvey’s characters are delightfully, sensitively drawn and their relationships are not sensationalised resulting in a play that feels like it could be totally real but especially in the nineties must have seemed inconceivable.

Sam Jackson, Thomas Law & Charlie
Brooks in the UK tour 2015
(photo by Anton Belmonte)

Jamie and Ste are the central duo, a long-standing friendship that blossoms into something more as the two discover their sexuality in a concrete-grey world. Their friendship is layered; gratifyingly, they do not always see eye to eye, they have different interests and different allegiances and yet their friendship is strong enough to come through. More importantly, they are not defined by their sexuality. So often gay characters are little more than a flat representation of a writer’s idea of gayness. But Harvey gives them both a real depth that makes their story all the more interesting, and their mutual attraction all the more plausible. Why, even now, is this kind of writing for gay characters so rare?

What Harvey manages to achieve in this play is an avoidance of what have become archetypal plot lines. We don’t get the stereotypical coming out scenes, we don’t have overpowering camp blinding us, and we don’t have a mythical, stuff-of-wet-dreams, perfect gay couple either! We have unapologetically real people. I know this may seem obvious, but really it does seem so rare to see a gay character that isn’t there for comic relief or some hackneyed coming out storyline that this now almost 25-year-old play is still a refreshing read. I think this achievement is what makes the play resonate with so many young people, gay or not; it is stuff young people recognise and can relate to!

There is a great deal of hope residing in the cracks of these characters’ lives, hope for us all.

The unconditional mother-son relationship is shrewdly observed. Neither of them is perfect – Sandra messes up just as much as any mother trying desperately to do her best might, and Jamie isn’t always the perfect son (is anyone?). But Harvey paints an exquisitely delicate picture of a relationship that manages to find a way, muddling through together.

Harvey’s ear for the dialogue of rough-edged teens and their elders caught in a habit of defensiveness and wariness is second to none – it jumps right off the page. He captures the rhythms of the overlapping conversations of those who spend almost too much time together impeccably.

Harvey’s choice to set the play in the semi-domestic realm of the landing walkway outside the flats is smart. It is a much more interesting and versatile space than, say, a living room or something similar. The space gives glimpses of the lives behind the front doors of the three young characters, but these moments are earned not given away. It allows the characters to feel at once comfortable in their shared ownership of the space and yet still not quite in the private environs of an interior so there is a nice tension present. Practically, it also grants a nice open playing space that can quickly be transformed into Jamie’s bedroom.

Gerard McCarthy, Charlie Brooks & Vanessa Babirye
in the UK tour 2015 (photo by Anton Belmonte)

The original play is subtitled, wittily, ‘An Urban Fairytale’ (in the latest production this was interesting changed to 'A Love Story'). I bring this up because of the nice play on the slang word ‘fairy’; it sums up Harvey’s tongue in cheek, joyous approach to telling this story. The characters are not without their troubles, but Beautiful Thing seems to rejoice in the beauty of the mundane, the beauty of two ordinary boys being able to discover love for the first time. Pointing it out as a fairytale does remind us that Harvey perceives a story of boys being able to find love and acceptance as something of an idyllic dream, and in 1993 that was even more exaggerated than it is now with all the apparent headway made in the gay rights movement. That said, it is encouraging that Harvey’s story feels less of a fantasy today - though I wonder in performance how we rediscover the shock original audiences must have felt at this fantasy to avoid it feeling nostalgic and out of date.

The final scene, underscored by Mama Cass’ Dream a Little Dream of Me – which you can hear ringing out even just reading the script – is stunningly rousing. There is a great deal of hope residing in the cracks of these characters’ lives, hope for us all that one day this story won’t be a fairytale anymore but a lived reality for young people universally.

Jack Davies and Danny Boy Hatchard in the 20th Anniversary revival at the Arts Theatre
(photo by Alastair Muir)

Watch the 20th Anniversary production on Digital Theatre here.
Buy on Amazon here.

#2. How To Hold Your Breath.

How to Hold Your Breath by Zinnie Harris
Premiered at the Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Downstairs, Sloane Square (4 February 2015)
Published by Faber & Faber

I was lucky enough to see Vicky Featherstone's production of How to Hold Your Breath at the Royal Court in Spring this year, and found it quite a perplexing piece. Despite the confident production and impressive performances from Maxine Peake and cast, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It is with this in mind that How To Hold Your Breath is play number two in the Play-a-Day project!

Zinnie Harris' play is what you might call an 'ideas play' - and there are certainly a lot of ideas in it. The main arc centres around an economic crash on a scale as yet unseen, which turns the entire Eurozone into a kind of post-apocolyptic, lawless mess. This is within the concept of a Book-of-Job-like struggle between an apparent demon, Jarron (which interestingly means 'cry of rejoicing'), and Dana, who refuses to let him settle a perceived debt after he mistakes her for a prostitute and sleeps with her. But Dana has more important things to worry about, like an interview for a new grant to fund her study of customer-business relationships. After the disastrous interview, perplexingly she is asked to Alexandria for a follow up interview. Dana's pregnant sister, Jasmine, travels through the failing Europe with her, and a hapless, useless guide-come-guardian angel of a Librarian pops up along the way with recommendations of good self-help books, failing to be any sort of help.

There are some moments of incredibly passionate writing, which reveal the depth of Harris' powers.

Shortly into her journey, she discovers the banks have collapsed overnight. They have no money, no transport, no food and an increasingly desperate need to get out. They become refugees, forced into degradation. All of this, Dana believes, is as a result of Jarron trying to force her to beg for his money. All the while, Dana stays focussed on the interview - if only she can get to Alexandria and get the job all will be fine. Meanwhile, the Librarian is always on hand with a wealth of wittily titled 'How to...' books which, inevitably, fail to help Dana.

Maxine Peake (Dana) and Michael Shaeffer (Jarron)

It is a play about its ideas, not about its characters; each character becomes more of a symbol. Jarron seems to represent the demonic reduction of relationships to financial transactions, the Librarian a sort of inert guiding light married to the consumerist ideology of quick fixes, Jasmine and certainly her unborn child some sort of fragile, damaged purity. And what of Dana herself? Well, her insistence that she can find her way back to the old order, that she will get a job and get paid and be able to buy a nice new flat and solve everything, and her focus on hating what she sees as an external aggressor that is destroying a healthy way of life... To me, this seems to make her a confused symbol of the old order itself; crumbling, dehumanising, desperate - but insistent.

While Harris' primary focus may not be on the characters but on what they stand for, her ear for dialogue is unique; it has a rhythm and a patter that is somehow heightened just enough to be perceptible, but not enough to feel wholly alien. There are some moments of incredibly passionate writing, for instance in Jasmine's tirade after she miscarries her child, which reveal the depth of Harris' powers.

In the very final moments of the play, Dana finally gets to start the interview we have seen glimpses of throughout. But at what cost? Her unborn nephew has perished. Her sister drowned. Europe has fallen. She is no more than a shell of what she used to be, pumped up on adrenaline administered by a demon. Should she in fact, as the Librarian tries to convince Jarron over her dying body, be left to die? Would that not be kinder? Caught between being tempted by the jewels of consumerism and running from them, she finally gives in to the tempting demon. If we stop thinking of her as a person, divorce ourselves of the instinctive responses, and think of her as a symbol of a dying system... Are we really satisfied that this is the best we can do? Could we not let it die, and in its wake find something new?

Of course, the playwright seems to strongly sit in the 'tear it up and start again' camp, and pushes her morality through to the end. What's missing from this debate altogether is the counterargument, as hell-bent capitalists are turned into economic refugees. It is a shame there is not more of a sense of debate. Harris does hold a lot back in terms of answers to the small questions, perhaps with a view to leave the focus on the big issues, but the danger is that the audience or reader may get sidelined by her more ostentatious ideas.

Harris presents us with a harrowing potential future if we carry on as we are going, in a play full of ambiguity, surprising wit and theatricality. Harris' dialogue style is distinctive and her voice as a playwright is powerful, even unique. The play itself will naturally divide audiences and readers for its disturbing political and cultural resonance - and will potentially frustrate some for having its heels firmly dug in on one side of the fence. In production, too, it will certainly present a challenge. It is exciting writing, though - I'll certainly be rushing to get tickets for Harris' next play!

Maxine Peake (Dana) and Christine Bottomley (Jasmine) in Vicky Featherstone's production.

Buy on Amazon here.

#1. Blink

Original cast: Harry McEntire and Rosie Wyatt

Blink by Phil Porter

Premiered at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (2 August 2012)

Published by Oberon Modern Plays

So here goes, play number one is Phil Porter’s Blink, a punchy two-hander. Blink tells the story of outsiders Jonah and Sophie. Jonah moves from his sheltered Presbyterian home to a flat Leytonstone, East London. Sophie had lived with her father, until his recent death. With the unbidden delivery of a video baby monitor, connected to a camera in Sophie’s flat, Jonah begins to observe her while she pretends to be unaware. Eventually the safety found in the distance of this voyeurism is disturbed when Jonah figures out that she is in the flat upstairs, and their connection spills out into the real world.

"Love is not a cast iron set of symptoms. Love is whatever you feel it to be. Love is neither dirty nor clean." Jonah

The first line comes from Jonah; “This is a true story, and it’s a love story.” This playfully opens what is a wonderfully theatrical play, turning the characters’ audience address into two people confiding in the audience their own experience of a relationship. As a form of memory play, Porter relishes the opportunities for dissonance in the recollection of events between Jonah and Sophie, and finds real humour and silliness in their story. Porter has mastered audience address in this piece, creating a real depth and need in his characters.

For the first part of the play Jonah and Sophie seem to be in separate worlds, not engaging with the other. Then suddenly, the worlds cross over, with both Jonah and Sophie filling in for characters in the other’s story but without necessarily fully becoming them. There is a rather fun stage direction on the first instance of this; “If there’s a brief moment of confusion at the point of transition, all the better.” There are clear indications throughout the script that the piece acknowledges its own theatricality, which opens up lots of opportunities for play in performance. It also bridges the gap in the storytelling, allowing key scenes to become immediate rather than recounted.

Eventually, of course, the two characters interact themselves, as their stories gradually align. This process is beautifully drawn by Porter; he finds all the opportunities for mundane absurdity and surprise in the inevitability of their meeting. It is then even sweeter when the two finally have a conversation, decoding the layers of fantasy the audience have been complicit in them building around themselves.

Porter delivers one final surprise, just as it seems the play may veer off into sentimentality. There is no fairy tale ending; no neat bow. There is a feeling in this that the audience is being given the story up until now, but it will go on and who knows what might happen next week, or next year. It lives up to Jonah’s description of love in his opening speech; “Love is not a cast iron set of symptoms. Love is whatever you feel it to be. Love is neither dirty nor clean.”

With that description in mind, it then becomes apparent that while telling the central, albeit unconventional ‘love story’, Porter examines other forms of love in Jonah and Sophie’s lives. Be it their relationship with their parents, estate agents, doctors, random strangers that they collide with in the street, or the mangy fox that lives in the garden.

In this emerges the idea of love growing out of a need. Jonah and Sophie certainly need each other, and indeed have a certain need for the other characters that cameo in their lives – yes, even the mangy fox! But that said, in Porter’s play that doesn’t diminish the validity of the love. The final resolution suggests a very natural ebb and flow of relationships, and through even the most fleeting of these relationships we may come to find a better understanding of who we are.

Photo by Sheila Burnett

Buy on Amazon here.

Welcome.

The Play-a-Day Project is a little something new I've decided to launch over the summer months. I have found myself, as many young actors do, facing a bit of a creative lull over the summer months bar only a visit to the Edinburgh Fringe in August, with the rest of my time being taken up principally with an obligatory day job.

My time spent commuting has increased, and I have far more time to read. As such I shall be aiming to read or see a play a day for the next few months - or for as long as libraries, Amazon and my bank balance will keep me in books and tickets. Then I will be blogging about my thoughts on each of them!

I spent a few years writing as a reviewer for various publications, and have found myself writing less about theatre recently though my engagement with it has hugely increased. So, I'm going to do a bit of writing here for anyone who cares to read my ramblings!

I'd love to have your involvement, so if you do have any thoughts, responses, recommendations of plays to read or anything at all, please feel free to get in contact, either on here, through my Facebook or on Twitter @EdTheakston (all links in the sidebar).

I hope you enjoy this little blog, I'm sure it's going to keep me entertained over the summer months!

Love,
Ed