Flying high with 'Bluebird'

Bluebird by Simon Stephens

The Cockpit Theatre, London (23/11/2010)

Directed by Andrew Whyment

Vibrant, fast-paced and perfectly poised on the see-saw between abstract and reality, this performance of Bluebird brought to life the dirty depths of London with a fantastically fresh display of young talent. Tracking taxi driver Jimmy as he makes his way across the capital for one night, we begin to understand the world through the words of his ‘fares’ and learn the dark truth of our protagonist’s past.

The first striking thing about the performance is the set. Rubbish piled high amongst odd possessions and car parts topped with a single car seat make for Jimmy’s taxi – the taxi light above his head indicating whether it is occupied or not. Simple and unique, the set not only allowed the intimate space of the car to be opened up to the whole auditorium, it became the perfect metaphor for Jimmy’s life and proverbial baggage.

Each scene was interspersed with vivid scenes of city life. Flashing lights, high-tempo music and fast-paced movements from the cast reminded us of the world outside the taxi – while Jimmy contemplates his past, present and future, the rest of the world goes on without him. A clear indication that time was progressing, these interludes were entertaining, brilliantly choreographed and fitted naturally and neatly into the performance.

The cast captured their characters to their core. Each portraying a different aspect of London life, they all painted a poignant picture of troubled minds behind the exterior of routine and daily life. Garry Jenkins as Jimmy was brilliant at taking us through his complex emotions and his meeting with former wife Clare (Juliet Turner) provoked a particularly touching atmosphere that I’m sure was felt amongst many in the audience.

Adam Loxley should also be praised in his role as Richard, a London Underground engineer. His performance was one of the most natural and affecting throughout, whilst Rachel Chambers as Angela was vivid and entertaining and Michael Roebuck provided a funny and disturbing performance as Billy. Not forgetting director Andrew Whyment, a former student of the University of Reading, who showed real talent in pulling all the elements together in such an impressively imaginative way.

The first London revival of this play since its debut in 1998, Bluebird was a whirlwind of emotional highs and lows. From the bleak reality of city-life to moments of genuine (if dark) humour, this was one of the most impressive, entertaining and exciting performances of the recent stage.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this review of 'Bluebird'.

Krapp's Last Tape

Written by Samuel Beckett

The Duchess Theatre, London (18/11/2010)

The story of an old man, alone and decrepit, bitter about but longing for his younger self by listening to the sound of his own voice. These are the bare essentials of Krapp's Last Tape. Painstakingly slow and strangely unsettling, the leading and only man onstage, Krapp (Michael Gambon) revisits his past by listening to his own taped diary entries.

The stage is virtually bare - just a desk with a single bulb above an old man's wiry haired head. Collapsed across the desk is Krapp. He remains there for so long that you begin to wonder whether the character is alive or dead. The silence is so unbearable you want to laugh. And this is how the first half of the play pans out. No speech, just Gambon as he moves about the stage as if witnessing it for the first time.

There are some hilarious moments with some bananas, as in a puerile and monkey-like manner, this old man finds some immature pleasure in the phallic fruit. Well.. don't we all! Gambon is magnificent in the role, creating incredible tension amidst the audience interspersed with moments of genuine laughter and others of something close to fear.

The performance is dark, with minimal light creating the sense of that inevitable darkness that will soon smother the ageing Krapp. The recordings of his younger self reveal someone more lively but almost equally troubled. As past and present play out in front of us, it's apparent that Krapp was doomed to become lost and alone. True to Beckett, you could say nothing happens in this short 45 minute performance. But you could also say that crammed into it, everything happens.

We hear a young man and see the old man that he has become and in that witness some 30 years of his life. And within that, we see the next 30 - his spools of tape evidently his last remaining comfort for a man stuck in routine, waiting for the lights to go out.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this review of 'Krapp's Last Tape'.

A day at the festival

54^th BFI London Film Festival

Thursday 21^st October

There’s nothing like a new movie to get us film lovers all a-jitter – so imagine the hype when the BFI London Film Festival comes to town. Now in its 54^th year, this festival showcases the best in new cinema from across the globe, mixed with Q&A sessions with writers and directors as well as whole host of other movie-based experiences. With film screenings open to all, it was almost impossible to resist hopping across to the Capital to catch a glimpse of the festival in action.

I headed to Leicester Square where I was booked to see Another Year, directed by Mike Leigh of Secrets and Lies fame. The film stars Jim Broadbent (Hot Fuzz) and Ruth Sheen (Vera Drake) as Tom and Gerri (and yes, the link to the cartoon is picked up on), a kindly couple heading for old age. As the title suggests, the narrative takes place in one year, specifically focusing on the events of each season – carefully tracked via the couple’s allotment.

The film is a beautiful one, with many moments hilarious and others incredibly uncomfortable to watch. The final image of Mary (Lesley Manville) is one that Leigh forces upon us for an unnatural length of time ending the film on a melancholy note. The movie deals with social insecurity, loneliness and deep dissatisfaction with life. But, it’s not all doom and gloom – to counterbalance the rather depressive outlook on life, there are many moments where love, stability and friendship prevail.

Broadbent’s performance is natural and warm, but Sheen’s is somewhat more stilted. Manville is impressive in the role of Mary, so much so that she’ll have you both loving and hating her character. Try loving her – she deserves it really.

After the screening, Mike Leigh came in to the auditorium for a quick Q&A. The conviction with which he defended the motives of his work was inspiring. All of his films are created through a process of improvisation, essentially starting with little more than an idea but ending up with a very precise script. This film is no exception – it allowed Leigh to explore both loneliness and togetherness as well as the ‘tragedy and the reality’ of those who are simply lucky or unlucky.

Ultimately, this film won’t be to everyone’s taste, but if you like an honest, gentle depiction of daily life, this one’s for you. Plus, Mike Leigh fans will not be disappointed.

So that brings me to my final experience – seeing the stars. It’s common knowledge that if you see the red carpet rolled out in Leicester Square you don’t just walk past it. No, you jam yourself against the nearest barrier and take photos of every tinted-windowed car that pulls up as it might just be someone famous. As luck would have it, 21^st October was the London premiere of The King’s Speech, directed by Tom Hooper. Starring Colin Firth as King George VI, the movie tells the touching true tale of a monarch overcoming a crippling speech impediment during the turbulent times of World War Two. With the likes of Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush starring alongside Mr Firth, the red carpet was well and truly star-studded. The King’s Speech is due to hit cinemas in January and there are whispers of Oscar nominations a-plenty, so it’s definitely one to watch.

The whole afternoon was an atmosphere to remember – a real melange of students, movie lovers, actors and directors all turning out to celebrate truly great film. It’s an arty atmosphere, without feeling too pretentious, and I can safely say that I have never before been to a cinema where I have overheard one man introducing his friend to another as ‘the man who directed the film’. If you didn’t get a chance to go to this year’s BFI London Film Festival, pencil it into your diary for next year – it’s an event not to be missed.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this report on the London Film Festival.

I think I died a bit...

So, on Thursday (yes, it's taken me this long to get over it) I saw actual Colin Firth in the flesh. Ok, so I was forced to remain behind a steel barrier for the duration of our meeting, but I still like to think we had a connection.

To put this meeting into context, I was in London for the 54th BFI London Film Festival to see Mike Leigh's new film, Another Year. There was a bit of Q&A with said director, enlightening, and then (like all good film/Firth lovers) I hung around Leicester Square to await the arrival of the stars.

It was the première of Tom Hooper's The King's Speech, a movie telling the touching tale of how King George VI overcame a crippling speech impediment. With the likes of Helena Bonham-Carter and Geoffrey Rush sharing the screen with Mr Firth, it was fair to say there was a decent crowd lining the edges of the red carpet. It was an awesome and an odd experience. It just feels a bit peculiar to find out those of the big screen are actually normal-sized humans and that they do in fact mingle with normal folk from time to time.

Naturally, I will be reviewing Another Year in the coming week, but unfortunately, The King's Speech isn't out til January. My good friend Colin looks set to be nominated for an Oscar for it, though, so it's well worth scheduling into your cinematic diary.

Just a little note to self: must remember not to be so star-struck when am hot-headed journalist allowed to mingle with popular people. Something I still maintain will happen in the future.

Welcome to Your Nightmare

The Armature of the Absolute, The Buchinger’s Boot Marionettes

The Barbican Theatre 15/01/09

It was another one of those evenings. I hop on the train to London whilst my friends settle for the pub - again. So, making my way to the Barbican Theatre, homemade sandwich in hand (£3.99 for one in London - are they made of gold?), I prepare myself to soak up a bit of culture. However, on this particular trip, I didn’t feel like I acquired much culture at all, and I certainly wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.

The Armature of the Absolute is a play depicting the life and works of Alfred Jarry, a French playwright from the late 19^th century. Don’t know Alfred Jarry? Well, he hated hierarchical society, rode bicycles more recklessly than your stupid younger brother and fuelled his body with arsenic - and when he ran out, he drank ink. In short, he was mad. He wrote a series of plays called The Ubu Plays, which caused outrage in the theatres of 1896 with some not so cleverly disguised swearwords.

Compared to the paintings of Salvador Dalí, this puppet performance can only be described as a living nightmare. If you don’t like puppets, then watching this would be like going to a puppet-only boarding school, then coming home one weekend to find that Pinocchio is your long lost brother and your mum’s making you share a room. The design of these puppets ranged from a baboon with teeth on its big, pink bum, a Mr Wobbly cross dinosaur on roller skates and a Pope-bashing Punch (from the Punch and Judy shows). They were grotesque, disturbing and watching them evoked a similar sentiment to that of watching The X Files as a 9-year old.

Perhaps you want to know exactly what this play was about - frankly, so do I. There was a sort of narrator, dressed like a puppet with a half masked face. However, with a heavy accent and a Stephen Hawking voice effect, understanding him was nigh impossible. Therefore, the play seemed to have no through line, no plot and seemingly the only beginnings and ends were life and death and then death as a metaphor for life and… oh, I lost track of all the skeletons, eggs and disturbing puppet-going-through-painful-child-birth scenes (by child I mean lizard/skeleton).

The show is part of the London Mime Festival and sold out in its short time at the Barbican, and despite my disgust I can see why. Whilst watching the performance, I was outraged, repulsed and little bit mentally scarred, but that’s what it was supposed to do. It was a recreation of the outrage Jarry originally caused his poor, unsuspecting, upper class French audience in 1896.

By the end of the show, some people sat and clapped uncomfortably, others sat in bitter defiance with their arms crossed, and some had already walked out. There were some that loved it (each to their own) and they clapped vigorously, but I was one of the uncomfortable ones. Still, as I walked back to the underground station pondering an angry ‘what were you thinking?’ letter to someone high up, I found myself needing to talk about what I’d seen. Not in an ‘I need therapy’ way (surprisingly) but I needed to complain about the defecation, the phallic imagery and the utterly disturbing nature of the piece. How could that show possibly belong in a theatre? But that’s just it, I suppose – why shouldn’t it?

This show broke every taboo in the book. With skilled puppetry, a completely baffling set of scenes and some chilling music, the Buchinger’s Boot Marionettes managed to create something unimaginable; not just the physical performance but the same, or at least similar, feeling felt by an audience of over one hundred years ago. It might not be my cup of tea, but these guys, despite the deep trauma they may have caused, do deserve some praise for a performance beyond even your wildest nightmares.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this review of 'The Armature of the Absolute'.