Showing posts with label Royal Court. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Royal Court. Show all posts

Tuesday, 8 September 2015

#15. Hope

Hope by Jack Thorne
Premiere: Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Downstairs (26 November 2014)
Published by NHB Modern Plays

Jack Thorne's optimistically titled political play Hope was recommended by a friend of mine, and it is a wonderful read. It centres around a small local Labour council and its struggling councillors fighting to survive through the crushing cuts the Conservative government have been forcing through in recent years. It is a cutting satire, which audiences of all political persuasions will be able to get a handle on. 

It has all the hallmarks of Jack Thorne's style. It is episodic, concise and economic while still having a wide-reaching resonance, and the central fight is essentially unwinnable. The council presented becomes a symbol of a country's larger struggle in the face of troubled economic times. Thorne's dialogue is quirky and tight, with a great sense of irony piercing the air throughout.
Jack Thorne's play will become seen as a wider indictment of the British two-party political system, and the ways in which several successive governments on both sides of the fence have failed.
What Thorne does so well in this play is what good journalists manage to do with huge, unwieldy subjects; he makes it personal. By focussing on a small group of counsellors and branching out to consider their personal lives alongside the professional, Thorne's play becomes touching, compassionate and human, as well as intensely political. 

It seems fair to say that Thorne has a slight leaning towards the left side of the argument, but his play not only examines the perceived damage of Tory budget cuts which disproportionally affect working class towns, it also examines the failings of the contemporary Labour Party and of the Labour/socialist movement as a whole. His taut character list spans several generations using the counsellors as the epicentre; an elderly father - a counsellor himself through the seventies - is the epitome of the post-war Labour movement, a teenage child represents the varying apathy and idealism of youth.  

In some respects, the play is already historical, as is the danger with writing an immensely timely play. It is very specifically located a few months before the last election, with comments made about "Ed's" concerns. And part of the play's power is its grounding in a set of all-too real circumstances, which for audiences at the time would have felt even more poignant. That said, I would suggest that going forward the play will find a different resonance; it will become seen as a wider indictment of the British two-party political system, and the ways in which several successive governments on both sides of the fence have failed. It shrewdly portrays the limits of our elected representatives, and their own selfish battles to achieve re-election and promotion.

Jack Thorne's writing finds power and resonance in the extraordinary moments within the everyday lives of those pushed forward to lead. Marvellously, it is not a dreary play - as the title suggests, there is optimism, humour and hope all loitering around in the age of austerity. Thorne doesn't preach or thrust forth his own solutions. Rather, his quietly profound play leaves you reconsidering many of your own political views, and questioning the political system as a whole. Truly effective, urgent satirical writing.

All photos of John Tiffany's production at the Royal Court, designed by Tom Scutt.
Photos by Johan Persson
Also by Jack Thorne: #10. Mydidae
Buy on Amazon here.

Thursday, 6 August 2015

#9. Cloud Nine

Cloud Nine by Caryl Churchill
Almeida Theatre production (2007)
Premiere: Dartington College of Arts (14 February 1979)
Published by Methuen in Plays: One

Caryl Churchill had been writing for over twenty years by the time Cloud Nine premiered, but it was this play that brought her international acclaim and indeed continues to be performed. It was most recently seen at the Almeida Theatre, directed by Thea Sharrock. 

The play is a study of sexual politics, beginning in the patriarchal, strictly repressive Victorian colonial Africa, and then wrenching the characters rapidly into post-sexual revolution London in 1979. The central characters are a family; husband and wife Clive and Betty, their two children Edward and Victoria, and grandmother Maud. 

Churchill's introduction to the script is illumating about the process used to create the piece. It was developed in collaboration with director Max Stafford-Clark and the Joint Stock Theatre Group in three weeks of exploratory workshops on sexual politics initially, before Churchill spent some time writing the script, and then a final rehearsal process leading to production. The production was also seen in London at the Royal Court following a tour. 

Cloud Nine's first act is dominated by the rules of colonial administrator and patriarch Clive, who forces any identities that would shame his beloved England into repression. The act is a wickedly funny satire of Victorian family values, with Clive insisting that women are "dark like this continent, mysterious" and affairs and indiscretion rife beneath the facade of a content nuclear family. 

Churchill plays with form joyously. She uses song and verse freely, creating a heightened theatrical world particularly in the first act. The scenes are episodic, with rapid successions of vignettes between different characters. She utilises extreme imagery and language to great effect. Some of the characters lapse into direct address, particularly in celebration of newly accessible sexual practises in the second act.
"I live for Clive. The whole aim of my life / Is to be what he looks for in a wife. / I am a man's creation as you see, / And what men want is what I want to be." Betty  
Churchill presents a web of gender subversion, with Betty played by a man and their son Edward played by a woman, while their daughter Victoria is not even autonomic but a manipulated dummy. This not only ensures hilarity, but also communicates a much deeper thread that is central to Churchill's play. Betty introduces herself; "I am a man's creation as you see, / And what men want is what I want to be." She does not value herself as a woman - she can only find value in achieving what Clive wants of her. She plays the role of the quiet domestic angel, but with the arrival of Clive's romantic explorer friend, Harry, her deep dissatisfaction is made clear. Edward in the first act shows how masculinity is a learned set of behaviours, rather than something innate. This is heightened by the cross-gender casting, with both Clive and Betty chastising Edward whenever he is found acting like a "sissy", epitomised by playing with his sister's doll. 

The family have a black servant, Joshua, played by a white actor. This cross-racial casting effectively makes the internal battle manifest - Joshua declares "My skin is black but oh my soul is white. / I hate my tribe. My master is my light."; he does not identify with his own race or people, dominated by colonial values. 

Unfortunately, though, the uncomfortable side effect of this is that while certain themes are nicely highlighted, others are compromised. Churchill plays it safe with some of the more difficult (at least for the time of writing) gender politics. Harry, the explorer, has a relationship with Edward. This is tempered by the fact that Edward is played by a woman, so this gay relationship becomes heteronormative and inoffensive. This waters down the effect of what is actually on the page, which could be a very challenging scenario for audiences. Clive's revulsion at Harry's homosexuality, and Betty's blindness to the governess' sexuality, are gratifyingly laughable, though.

Almeida Theatre production (2007)
Act two is set in a London park in 1979, but for the characters only 25 years have passed. Betty leaves Clive, Edward has taken a lover who enjoys cruising, Victoria has a daughter of her own and falls in love with Lin, a mother herself, as her traditional marriage collapses. The act is lead by women and gays, as the sexual revolution has released them from some of the old repressions. 

This cleverly illustrates having to reconcile one's liberated present with one's past. This is surely true for all those who lived through the sexual liberation of the 1960s and '70s, and indeed still true for all those who must fight to escape the repression of traditional or conservative homes. Churchill briefly brings characters back from act one which otherwise do not appear, like lingering ghosts reminding the characters of how they were brought up, of what their old values were which they have now reviled against. Clive appears, for instance, not long after Betty (now played by a woman) has paid tribute to masturbation, reminding her "You are not that sort of woman, Betty. I can't believe you are." He has said these words before to her, in response to her confession of dissatisfaction in act one. Churchill may be asking 'this sexual revolution is all well and good, but can we ever be free of our past?' This is a crucial question for the generations living through these changes. Self-hatred and repression is, ultimately, the most powerful of all forms. How do those people find happiness, or is happiness only to truly be found in following generations?

There is something inconclusive about this play. While Churchill observes the changes that have happened, she doesn't encourage any sort of commentary on it. She avoids what are the really tough questions. Is the apparent death of the nuclear family, with traditional marriages falling apart everywhere you look, really for the best? Is hedonistic sex as satisfying as relationships, and are polygamous relationships as stable as monogamous relationships? What are the implications of same-sex parenting? Although I would of course argue that gay couples can be just as effective parents, it is certainly different - and in the culture of 1979 that sort of discussion is surely even more important. There is a risk that these changes are taken so lightly that they seem not seismic and fought for but part of a natural progression. This may inadvertently belittle the changes that Churchill might indeed be attempting to celebrate. 

The overriding message from Churchill's play, underlined by mentions of the British post-colonial oppression of Northern Ireland in act two, is that there is indeed an overpowering link between political oppression and sexual oppression. This illuminates the inextricable link between the political with the personal in a sophisticated manner, as Sarah Kane would later do in Blasted. 

Churchill's play is undoubtedly problematic and doesn't present any final resolution for the characters. This is perhaps what has made the play endure for over thirty years; it is still just as relatable for audiences across the world. And Churchill's wit and dialogue, as ever, are second-to-none. Cloud Nine is a fascinating experiment even if some of Churchill's more recent works are a little more refined.

Thea Sharrock's production at the Almeida Theatre (2007)

Saturday, 1 August 2015

Double-Bill part two: #7. hang

hang by debbie tucker green
Premiere: Royal Court Jerwood Theatre Downstairs (11 June 2015)
Published by NHB Modern Plays

Part two in the Royal Court double-bill is debbie tucker green's latest, hang. dtg has explored the victim-aggressor dynamic before, but here flips it on its head with the victim put in the position of power.

The play exists in an imagined near future under a system where victims get a say in the corporal punishment of the perpetrators of crime. dtg's characteristically succinct, taut play focussed on the meeting where Three, the unnamed victim of an unspoken crime, has come to formalise her decision determining how the convict will be executed. The script revels in the 'newspeak', hollow, jargon-laden conversations of inadequate pencil-pushing bureaucrats - who clumisily admit to indulging in roleplay to prepare themselves for these meetings. This meeting with the combative, impassioned Three, however, is nothing they were prepared for. 

From the very beginning of the piece, Three claims to have her mind made up, but it takes until the very end of the piece for her to finally follow through. Only after she has forced one of the two officials to go through the very fine points of each form of execution will she at last give up her choice. As such, it seems as though in fact she hasn't made her decision, but is too headstrong - accurately observed as an effect of the trauma inflicted on herself and her family - to allow herself to be influenced. The two officials simply want an answer and an easy life, while for Three it is a much bigger issue at hand and I would say there is a great deal of doubt surrounding her choice. This disconnect is wonderfully communicated, and keeping so much unknown does effectively create a certain tension.
debbie tucker green's play is precisely and meticulously structured, confidently articulating the complicated and emotional argument around corporal punishment and revenge.
The dialogue in dtg's script is incredibly rhythmic, almost like the rhythms of rap or sustained spoken word poetry. This is particularly evident in Three's longer, passionate speeches, which are remarkably moving. There is an impressive clarity in this play which holds its cards very close to its chest, only gradually revealing the whys and wherefores of the situation. 

Marianne Jean-Baptiste (Three) with Claire
Rushbrook (One) and Shane Zaza (Two)
There are some interesting differences between the published script and the performed production, most notably the very end of the play. Throughout, reference is made to the 'Chekhov's gun' style letter that has been written by Three's persecutor. Three won't read it until she's signed away her decision. In the script, she opens it in front of the two officials and tells us: "He's...sorry." Whereas in performance, she was left alone to read the letter and we never find out what is in it, simply seeing her hands shake and her eyes widen as she takes in what he has to say. The choice made for the performance seems more in line with dtg's stylistic decision to remain oblique, heightening the ambiguity about what exactly he's done to inspire such strong feelings from Three. The script, though, does give more of a sense of Three's own doubt and conscience - she will have to live with the decision she has just made about his death for the rest of her life. Both choices are effective, though the production perhaps more subtly so, in questioning the validity of notions of revenge in corporal punishment. It offers an exciting choice to directors in future productions, too!

debbie tucker green's play is precisely and meticulously structured, confidently articulating a very complicated and emotional argument about crime and corporal punishment. She has also written a tremendous female heroine, which there is a great dearth of in contemporary theatre - expertly performed by Marianne Jean-Baptiste in a tour de force turn at the Royal Court earlier this year directed by dtg herself. I really enjoy the sense of ambiguity in the piece, though it may suffer in political volume as its lack of cultural grounding doesn't directly place it within or in connection to any system we currently have. As a play about revenge, though, which has a much wider resonance, it is haunting.



This double-bill of Royal Court plays was not a deliberate choice, but you will notice that many of the plays I will cover have premiered at the Royal Court at some time over the past few years. Both hang and Constellations are tremendous plays, offering fresh perspectives and new voices, and are testimony to the incredible work of the Court. Constellations has had a healthy commercial life in large-capacity houses across the globe since its premiere in the tiny Jerwood Theatre Upstairs. It is thanks to the Royal Court's ability to take risks, enabled by the subsidy they receive (comparatively small next to the behemoths of the National or the RSC), that our theatre culture remains so vibrant and that new playwrights have a platform to develop and stage their work. If ever there was a reason to fight the case of arts subsidy, the Royal Court is it. 

Friday, 31 July 2015

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.

Thursday, 23 July 2015

#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.