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'.

A Touching Tale of Trauma

Kindertransport - Diane Samuels

Performed by Progress Theatre in Reading (27/10/08)

For the first production I have seen by Progress Theatre, Kindertransport definitely formed a brilliant first impression of their work.  From the innovative set design to the stunningly convincing characters, I enjoyed every aspect of this performance.

Kindertransport tells the traumatic tale of Eva Schlesinger, evacuated from Germany just months before the outbreak of the Second World War.  As a Jewish girl in a Nazi stronghold, her parents send her to England to live a safer life away from her home.  Parallel to this is the story of Lil, Evelyn and Faith; three generations of women, who forty years or so after the war, are struggling with similar issues surrounding identity, love and loss.

However, the first thing that struck me about the theatre was how remarkably small it was.  It had a quaint appearance with a pleasant community feel, but a small space like that is bound to present difficulties.  It’s fair to say that the company did a good job of overcoming them in creating some challenging locations, and the simplistic set design combined with the action onstage did enough to create two very different yet connected worlds.

Eva’s world is one of sadness and fear, but the director did manage to balance the tone of the performance to uplift the audience from time to time.  The actress playing Lil (Liz Carroll) often brought us some light relief with her quirky British humour.  The only male in the cast, Steve Webb, who performed five roles, also delivered cheeky comedy to a good reception; a deep contrast to his more fearful characters, the Nazi official and the Ratcatcher, with which he showed great diversity as an actor.

One scene that particularly affected me in a more tragic way was one in which Eva (Sadie James) leaves her mother (Laura Lewis) when she departs on the train to England.  Director Lesley McEwan’s decision to stage Helga, Eva’s mother, behind the child meant that the audience could see her hauntingly grievous expressions.  The silent mouthing of the words, “I love you”, accompanied with chilling slow motion waves effectively created that horrible moment when a mother is separated from her child.

Sadie’s performance is also worth particular praise.  Not only did the young actress have to learn her lines, but some of them were in German, and she had never learnt the language prior to the production.  Sadie also made the development in her character extremely clear; from the young, confused German girl, to the more mature Eva, losing her staccato English for a more natural Manchester accent.

Yet, it goes without saying that all the actors showed tremendous talent, and it was clear that a lot of hard work and effort had gone into making this performance a success – it was not in vain.  Even when the unexpected sound effect of nearby fireworks repeatedly interrupted the show, the actors continued without faltering.  It was definitely a successful tribute to the real ‘Kinder’ transported to England before the war, on whose experiences this play is based.  Finally, if future productions continue to be of this standard, then I will certainly support Progress Theatre for some time to come.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this review of "Kindertransport".

Coming Out of the Cold

On this, the 141st day since I last blogged (and, incidentally, the 250th year since Robert Burns was born), I've decided to come in out of the cold. I've been laying dormant for a few months, but I'm a student now, so what do you expect? If I didn't hibernate for the half the year, only waking up to eat a Hob Nob, scratch my nose and catch the odd episode on iPlayer, I think I'd be socially cast out from university.

Well... perhaps not.

Anyway, I've now got a firm grip on life here in Reading. I go running a few times a week, and it's not poofy running either - it's proper running with people who are so fast they must have eaten an F1 engine. I'm also managing to find the time to cook proper food instead of alternating between baked beans, eggs, super noodles and beans, which apparently doesn't do wonders for your body. Above all, of course, I'm doing lots of studying, which is naturally the cause of my inactivity over the last few months.

I can at least pretend can't I?

Ok, so maybe it has got something to do with the ridiculous amount of themed club nights, the £1 a bottle nights at the local and the inexplicable inability to say no to any social activity whatsoever in the first term. But I was told to "have fun" by everyone before I left, so I guess I'm just doing as I'm told.

Don't go thinking I've been neglecting my reviewing front though - I have been doing something! Whilst this blog might have been gathering dust, I've been tip-tapping away for the student newspaper, Spark*. Of course, it would be selfish if Reading was the only town my talent was felt in. So, just to get the ball rolling again, I thought I'd start sharing these reviews with you and the rest of the world wide web.

The first review I'm posting is one I wrote last term on a local performance of Kindertransport, a play by Diane Samuels. So, enjoy and keep your keen eyes open for more to come!

A Bitter Booker Disappointment

Amsterdam - Ian McEwan

This was a novel I really wanted to read. I was still buzzing from the brilliance of Atonement when I found Amsterdam in a local charity shop - I couldn't wait to get stuck into something just as good, if not better. Thing is, when I did get stuck into it, I didn't really get stuck.

Amsterdam is the story of two old friends who meet outside a crematorium at the funeral of a mutual friend and lover. Molly Lane's death prompts Vernon Halliday and Clive Linley to rethink their lives and their friendship. In the following days, Vernon makes fatal decisions as editor of a quality broadsheet, The Judge, and Clive, a successful modern composer, searches for the perfect melody for the millennium. The blurb describes the book as "brimming with surprises", but it was about as surprising as the force of gravity.

This book was merely a journey through a troubled few weeks in the lives of a couple of ordinary men. I was expecting brilliant writing and a brilliant storyline, especially as Atonement was only shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2001 and Amsterdam actually won it in 1998. I suppose I ought not to raise my expectations too high, but I'm definitely not as keen on trusting the judges of these prizes.

To be fair to McEwan, his writing is evocative and skilled, but it doesn't have the familiar technique of using particular words, phrases and vocabulary to create an unmistakable atmosphere. There is nothing about the plot that keeps the reader hooked other than a mere curiosity to see if anything is actually ever going to happen. The ending is similar to the "and I woke up to find it was all a dream" ending and the characters were about as interesting as my big toe. To keep it short, Amsterdam was an utter disappointment. Alain de Botton, of the Daily Mail, called it, "A page-turner" - but I'm afraid the only thing that should turn these pages is the wind.

If you do feel compelled to read any of McEwan's novels, make sure it is Atonement. That is one novel that won't let you down.

Please comment if you have anything to add to this review of "Amsterdam".

Bissing Down in Beijing

In complete contrast to our first day out in Beijing, it bissed it down for the whole of our second day. Perfect weather for sightseeing.

We took a trip to the Forbidden City, home of the old Emperors. To be honest, it's the biggest home I've ever seen - one person would certainly rattle around quite a bit in it. The sheer size of the place is breathtaking. It's a series of courtyards joined with various temples and rooms, made with vast amounts of stone, brass and gold. Our guide directed us through each courtyard, explaining the various rooms we came across - the throne room, the wash room, the prayer room to name a few. We had to dart across a couple of the stone courtyards just to escape the heavy rain.

Rather fittingly, the swimmers were out. The boys (typically) spotted the Australian synchronised swimming team walking around the Forbidden City and of course nabbed a quick photo and interview.

When we finally reached the far side of the Forbidden City, we'd lost our teacher. But that's by-the-by. We soon found her and reassembled at the coach to journey a little further round Beijing to the Temple of Heaven.

The guide seemed to be walking the wild side of life in leading us to the highest point in Beijing during a thunder and lightning storm. The locals took more money than they'd probably seen all month as there was a sudden rush on umbrellas from our group. I had my rain mac, but it did sod all. Not only was I still wet through but I was also still hot and sticky - I seemed to have created my own greenhouse effect.

Despite the weather, the temple and its grounds were beautiful and within it was a small art school selling various paintings. I got one for myself - the picture represents spring with copious amounts of pink cherry blossom and white birds flocking around a lake. Unfortunately, our visit was swiftly over as the rain got too much to bear.

We were off again, sitting soggy on the coach. This time we pulled up outside a very posh looking hotel - it was dinnertime and we'd been brought to a special Peking duck restaurant. The food was unbelievably good, the best so far, but everything was duck - duck pate, duck pancakes, duck rolls, duck soup. The only thing that didn't have duck in it was the tea. We did all feel a bit trampy in our wet clothes surrounded by golden tapestries and traditional Chinese beauty, but it was worth it for a good meal!

After dinner we headed back to the university for a spot of badminton. Without even realising it, our day was already and all the fun and rain had certainly drained our English bodies, which were still plodding along to British summer time. So it was off to our rooms to settle down on our beds of wood and bean bags. Luxury.

Fallen Behind?

Yes. Is the simple and honest answer.

Unfortunately, Beijing university only allowed us 1 hour per night on the Internet - after Day 3, I missed that hour every night. So, with a swift change of plan, I'm going to do a series of posts logging each memorable event, including a few photos - if that doesn't tempt you, I don't know what will.

I hope you're all following the Olympics on the TV. With Great Britain holding a comfortable 3rd on the medals tables, the games have got rather exciting. Stay logged on and I promise some posts packed with more excitement than you can shake a stick at.

Surely this proves it.

Day 3 - City Centre Olympics

And now the weather - the last few days have been stormy with heavy rain, thunder and lightning. So, the computers were out of bounds. That means that I'm about three days behind, so today's job is accounting for two of those days.

The opening ceremony - I hope you all watched it - was incredible! Unfortunately, I was watching it on a screen, a big one, in a park. The air was sweltering and I was cursing the number of countries there are in the world, purely because we had to wait longer for Team GB to come out. The evening got off to a bit of a bad start though - the park we were supposed to watch the ceremony in was shut due to security reasons and we ended up sitting on a stationary bus for over two hours. That meant we missed dinner - so the number of sore bums, rumbly tummies and hot faces equalled a group of slightly irritable people. Nevertheless, the ceremony was fantastic and definitely worth a watch.

The following day, we finally moved out of the school and into the city centre. We went to the gates of the forbidden city and watched the road cycling race. I was stunned by the number of competitors as they rode past, and the speed with which they race. Of course that lasted a maximum time of 30 seconds, so I passed the time by talking to a Chinese boy called Dragon. I don't actually remember his name but I remember it meant dragon. He was from an area of Beijing, watching the Olympics with his family. Like every Chinese person (except the ones trying to sell you umbrellas), he was friendly, constantly welcoming me to Beijing and telling me how pleased he was to have me in his country.

Of course, we had to move on soon after the cycling, having photos snapped of us along the way. The Chinese seem fascinated by Western culture and photograph us like celebrities. We went to a large street, with lots of restaurants and shops, and a few students and I went to the basement of a department store for lunch. With our slightly awkwardly ordered meal came a saucepan of hot stock, raw prawns, cabbage, mushrooms, an egg and noodles. You have to put all the bits of food into the stock and cook it yourself. I think it was more fun making it than eating it and I took a bite of a very suspicious bread roll that tasted similar to aniseed and salt.

The rest of the day saw a lot of walking, a little shopping and a long tube ride home. Overall, my first taste of Beijing was a good one, plus I got a good tan. Tomorrow we will be going to the Forbidden City and the Temple of Heaven, taking a break from the Olympics to taste the Chinese cultural history.

Happy blogging.