Mini-review – Opening Night -Gielgud Theatre

Last night I went to see a preview of “Opening Night” at the Gielgud from the £20 upper circle (chosen because I have hated everything Ivo Van Hove has directed and didn’t want to commit more despite Sheridan Smith).

Wow. A play about a play in which the characters hate the characters they’re playing (and each other) and are actively angry at the author for the play she’d written. A lot of it is sung, although the music wasn’t memorable despite being written by Rufus Wainwright. A lot of it is videoed and shown live, with Sheridan Smith’s face the size of the entire stage, making me feel like I was at home in front of the TV and cock blocking me from actually having a theatrical experience while inside an actual theater. Jesus. What was left to go wrong?

I, too, found myself hating the characters, both the ones they played and the ones THEY played, and actively being angry at the author for writing such a piece of dross. At the interval my companion turned to me and said “Well, I guess I don’t understand musicals.” I paused, then responded, “Oh I do, and this one is actually just bad.” We were easily able to agree to cut our losses for the evening and headed to the stairwell for the long trudge downward to freedom.

Never has art so perfectly and with such nesting doll cleverness imitated life. As we walked out, the woman in front of me exiting the theater was offered a wrist band “to come back after the interval.” She responded, “I shall not be returning, ” with such iciness that she singlehandedly undid global warming.

I award this show negative stars for being such a waste of talent – I would almost pay to end it sooner if I could and to watch Sheridan and Rufus working in better shows. Thank God I was only out £20 and one hour. It’s always risky to see a show this soon but I think there will be nothing that can fix “Opening Night” before or after its own opening. May I suggest you instead see “The Lonely Londoners” at Jermyn street, which had four characters (and more) I really cared about, making decisions about being human, but with more panache? Now that was an evening worth remembering.

Briefs Bite Club – Queen Elizabeth Hall, Southbank Center

I’ve been watching Briefs in its various incarnations for years – my affair with Briefs appears to have outlasted many of my relationships, in fact. I was happy to have them back after lockdown ended. I mean, what life needs right now is a big, glittery, queer burst of joy, right?

Only – I _had_ actually thought they’d gotten a bit formulaic. And this year, they threw the formula out the window for their show at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. No more tent, no more disco anthems, a bit less audience interaction – instead, it was a heartbreakingly beautiful show celebrating everything we have to enjoy about life, in times that seem increasingly dark.

Emcee Fez Faanana explained that the change came because of a connection the Briefs cast – and I think maybe he specifically – made at an Australian festival with the singer Sahara Beck. Hearing that story of connection, of people looking out for each other in a really bad time … well, that’s a story I’m very open to right now. And all that time shut in together, bouncing off the walls, not knowing what to do …. and then maybe reaching out a tiny tendril to someone else and having them reach back …. yes, I want to hear and see that story, I want to see what they created, with that spoonful of care and a healthy serving of WTF is going on sprinkled on top, what they did in the same place so many of us found ourselves.

What we got was an exceedingly beautiful show, one that, with the often heartbreakingly beautiful songs accompanying it, made me think about what a wonder it is that people can do so many amazing things with their bodies. They can bend in two, they can juggle 12 balls at once (maybe it was less, it seemed like 12), they can shoot to the sky on silk and willpower, they can love and laugh and break each others hearts. When the “gigolo” character stripped his final bits of clothing off, it was in no way filthy – it felt instead like a celebration of being alive. And that’s a place I really want to be right now.

Briefs Bite CLub – Photo credit Lachlan Douglas

If you are curious about what kind of circus work Briefs does – I could describe it in detail for every act – but instead why not just go and let this beauty wash over you and spend an evening being happy for every moment we’re given.

Thank you for the great night, all of you, and I hope to see you again in much more joyous circumstances. (This review is for the press night performance that took place on Friday, July 22, 2022.)

If you’re interested, here’s the songs Sarah performed – I honestly would have come out just to hear her sing, her voice was so good.

Set list:

Crack bang bang

Like you

Mr breezy

Hunter

Tapping on the roof

21st century

Nothing wrong with that

Queen of hearts

Daisy

Everyone wants noise

Here it comes

Sarah

Here we go again

I’m in love

Review – The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stein – Jermyn Street Theatre

Two women sit next to each other on a stage filled with white furniture and white frames. “I am Getrude Stein, playing Alice B Toklas,” says one to the audience. “I am Alice B Toklas, playing Getrude Stein, unless I am playing Getrude Stein playing Alice B Toklas,” says the other, to the audience. And on this wordplay goes back and forth until your brain is fighting to make the words make sense … only it does, and it makes a poem, and it brings to life a little world, of two women who long ago loved each other in a little apartment in Paris, and had friends who loved them, and rich lives, full of art and wordplay and fun.

The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stein has a structure of poetry and playfulness that make it feel like it could have been a play written by Stein (Natasha Byrne). There are two other actors, primarily playing Ernest Hemingway (who is berated by Stein for not letting himself show the “sensitive boy inside, far more interesting”) and Pablo Picasso (who gives detailed information about keeping your mistresses away from your wife). This scene-chewing duo (Mark Huckett and Kelly Burke, respectively) provide foils for Stein and Toklas’ generally kind (but at times very sharp) wit. They play a bouquet of roles – as wives, mistresses, other writers, and even Alfred North Whitehead, the mathematician Toklas (Alyssa Simon) uses to wind Hemingway up as “the third true genius I have ever known” (pricking his ego over and over again)., and keep the energy high, while Toklas and Stein provide the absolute calm at the center of this whirlwind of art, philosophy, and philandering.

While I can’t vouch for the veracity of the depictions of any of these characters or life in the Stein-Toklas household, I loved seeing these 20th century legends being silly and human on stage. Did they love themselves a little too much? It seems quite likely. Did Toklas and Stein hold their friends warmly in their hearts, despite seeing their imperfections? I’m sure it was so. And along with providing some historical framing for the story of Alice and Getrude’s life, the “other artists” provide much context for women’s lives in Paris. And, yes, more jokes. One of my favorites is when Picasso is trying to get Stein to praise his poetry … “But why did you say nothing about it?” “Well, you know how Jean Cocteau’s drawings were not merely bad, but repugnant?” “Well, yes.” “Sometimes when you’re a genius you have to learn your limitations.” (*This is my best memory of the conversation – I was too busy laughing to write it down verbatim.)

I realize this play might not be for everyone – a simple tale of domestic bliss between two women would be enough to chase off some, the intellectual folderol might disincline others – but I found it the absolute incarnation of why I come to Jermyn Street over and over again – to see an intimate play, done simply, which lets my intellect take flight and also manages to move me. It deserves a sold out run. I was glad to be there at the beginning.

(This review is for a performance that took place on Tuesday March 22, 2022. It continues through April 16th. Running time about 90 minutes.)

Jewish Hollywood – Aria Entertainment at Upstairs at the Gatehouse

In times like these – and it seems like it’s getting more like “times like these” by the day – an evening of great music and escapist entertainment seems like just the thing. What did I know about the impact of Jews on Hollywood, or the presence of Jewish culture in American movies? Honestly, nothing, but I was looking forward to learning. I had high hopes for my return to Upstairs at the Gatehouse and I was not disappointed.

The show is done as a bit of a history lesson, with songs generously leavened in (not always in historical order) and lots of breaks for showbiz fun. It is a four hander, two women and two men (one pair twenties-ish – Mackenzie Mellen and Jack Reitman – and the other in the prime of middle age – Sue Kelvin and Howard Samuels), with a generously sized band that included a person who played flute (I think!), clarinet, and possibly saxophone. The reeds gave a more klezmer-y sound to the ensemble than the usual house band – and were perfect for the show.

We started with the birth of Hollywood – well, the birth of cinema in America, really! Jewish immigrants, very recently arrived escaping European pogroms and with names frequently sanitized by Ellis Island authorities, started in the business right away, even before there were movies (kinetoscopes, mutoscopes, etc, in penny arcades) in New York, which ws the original home of America’s film industry. It was a good business to get into if you were a nobody from nowhere as the mass entertainment industry was considered low class and thus had a lower barrier to entry.

Despite working quickly up to the point of owning many of the Hollywood studios (where the industry settled due to the ease of filming under sunnier skies), the studio owners didn’t pursue Jewish themes, although there was a notable exception for The Jazz Singer, the breakthrough talkie about a young man struggling between his father’s dream for him to take up his position as the cantor for their synagogue and his wish for a Broadway career that raked in the dough. This was (shock!) the last Jewish themed Hollywood movie for decades …. until Exodus became a best seller (then a blockbuster movie, with Paul Newman as the star) … paving the way for people to be themselves, to be Jewish, and to be stars.

Photo credit: Louis Burgess

There’s a lot more story to be told, but let’s skip that and get to the fun! In addition to comical retellings of the two pivotal movies above (no blackface, thank God), the show features just buckets of great tunes, and has a cast that knows how to belt them. Kelvin was great at recreating that great star Sophie Tucker (“My Yiddische Momme”) as well as the very modern Midler, while Samuels was perfect at clowning as well as delivering tunes. The cast threw themselves into “Tradition” (<I>Fiddler on the Roof</I>) just as much as “God Bless America” (although I questioned Irving Berlin being called a jingoist – he was a patriot, which is different) and the very troubling “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” and “Springtime for Hitler.” It covered a very wide range of American history but with such great songs to illustrate the stories, it, unsurprisingly, never got dull!

For me, though, the highlight of the evening was a brief turn given by Mackenzie Mellen performing “Don’t Rain on my Parade” – it was so heartfelt and vibrant it seemed for a moment the windows might just burst off the building to let her song radiate through the entire neighborhood – wow! Her bio was the shortest in the program but I feel that with her star power she’ll be crossing my path many times again.

(Jewish Hollywood continues at Upstairs at the Gatehouse until April 17th, 2022. This review is for a show that took place on March 17th.)

Review – “Thrill Me: The Leopold & Loeb Story” – Jermyn Street Theater

Coming out of Christmas time and before the schmaltz of Valentine’s day, it seems like there is a lull perfect for a bit of horror. And Jermyn Street is ready for that space with its production of Thrill Me, a 2005 off-Broadway musical based on the true story of 1920s “thrill killers” Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb. While a movie or a novel might focus the horrifying death at the core of this tale, the musical is, instead, focused on the relationship between these two men, and how two mostly ordinary, priveleged young men decided that the thrill they needed in their lives was to kill an adolescent boy.

Jermyn Street Theatre

Is this a story best served by music? Well, yes, really, it is, because explaining how an emotional journey takes place is a perfect job for song. Leopold’s obsession (and devotion) to Loeb, the pressure for each to provide what the other one wants, even the bizarre attraction of arson … a movie could never take us to that place of jubilation, attraction, physical chemistry, and basically all the forces that combined to make these two men think that sex, property destruction, and cold blooded murder were what you needed to make life good. You’re unlikely to agree with them, but you can feel the pressure of these intense emotions combining to make them take the path they did – and see how a few other notable psychopaths might have felt that same tug.

The songs wouldn’t really make it fly, though, if it weren’t for the intense physicality brought to the roles by Bart Lambert (Leopold) and Jack Reitman (Loeb). Loeb’s obsession with Nietzche, his belief that he was a “superman” that could never be caught by the dull plebs that surrounded him, and the genuine fire and “push me/pull you” relationship with Leopold were believable and toxic. I couldn’t help but think of modern incel culture, in which deluded young men think the women who reject them are in fact the defective ones and deserving of death, rather than realizing that they are actively being avoided because of their toxicity.

However, after living in the emotional cooker of Covid for nearly two years, I found that Lambert actually seemed to be taking the twitchiness of his character a bit too far for such an intimate venue as the Jermyn. The 1920s scenes (contrasting to the ones he does in the 50s with the parole board, as a much older and more mature character) seeemed almost like a silent movie, with his hands held like claws and his face screwed up as if in agony. And, as an aside, this play should NOT be seen as a true crime show; while it might make sense to have one character be more sympathetic, reading through the various information I could find made me think author Stephen Dolginoff in fact chose the wrong man to be portrayed as a villain. That said, you have to make your source material work in the medium in which it is going to be presented, and the many details that were changed up between reality and the show certainly served to make it a tighter evening.

Thankfully, though, director Matthew Parker handled the actual murderin a way that a queasy nellie like myself was able to ride through without damage – there was no body, no blood, no actual violence, and no horrible recounting of every little detail of what happened. I know that’s how some people like their thrillers, but I frankly could not have coped. Still, if you want a bracing, adrenaline-raising night out, Thrill Me is a most unusual musical and decidedly a welcome note of counter-programming in a West End that seems afraid to offer anything that isn’t escapist or nauseatingly cute.

(This review is for press night, which took place on January 18th, 2022. It continues through February 5th.)

Post script: here is a picture of Bobby Franks, because I think it’s important to remember him.

Review – Pricked – Royal Vauxhall Tavern

Christmas comes but once a year, and with it panto season – a time of furious theater attendance for me as I am a die hard panto fan. Last year was not one of many pantos given the Christmas lockdown, but one of the few pantos I did see was “Pricked” at the RVT. With its pure cabaret talent, great send ups of pop songs, and snarky take on our political situation, I found it fantastic Covid counterprogramming, and one of the best Adult pantos I’d ever seen.

Grant Cartwright as the Fairest Of Them All. Sorry, wrong fairy tale!

Since half the run never happened, the creative team at the RVT wisely decided to just remount this underappreciated (well certainly underviewed) show rather than cooking up a whole new one, and I was was invited to review it (truth be told I’d bought tickets to a show later in the run, but hey this blog needs some fresh content so now is a good time). Off I went on a Wednesday night … only to found that Prince Charming herself (Chantelle St. Clair) had been struck by the deadly virus (or at least an isolation warning) and was to be replaced by the costume designer, Amy Rose! That’s the life in a cabaret, isn’t it, though. Even though Amy was on book during the show, it didn’t really affect the overall vibe too much, except for one tiny bit toward the end where all of the characters were looking around for a script while one of them was very noticeably holding one, which they all pretended not to see. Now that, I think, is the “magic of theater.”

“Pricked” is, as you might guess, a retelling of the Sleeping Beauty story, only with “our heroine” a wannabe pop star (Grant Cartwright) who dreams of hitting the top of the charts with her vocal stylings. She’s shallow as can be, but since she’s cute and funny, who cares? Certainly not Fairy Merrywhether (Lucy Penrose, God that girl makes me laugh), who’s eager to see Beauty out of the cottage so Merryweather can get cottaging (yes, this is the level of humor for the show, get used to it). However, the spanner in the works is Our Villainess, Maleffluent (Joseph Pollard), still angry from not being invited to the christening party 18 years ago. Mal has sent her wicked raven (Charlie Wood, as heartbreakingly beautiful as I remembered from last year) to find the thorn in her side, and preferably before that irritating rich prat, Prince Charming, gets his …. well, I’m sure another pun involving the title of the show is called for her, but it is the prick that is supposed to break the spell, right, and none of us could find a spindle if our lives depended on it? Good enough ….

Now, the thing is, you know the panto formula, but what you may not know is what makes an adult panto so great. Yeah, sure, there are some very rude jokes and there may be a sex toy, but the thing I didn’t understand when I started going to these is not just how queer/gay they are, but how <I>nice</I> it is to see <I>my</I> culture represented on stage. I mean, gay is not just drag queens (whatever some people think) and bathhouses, it’s a family, a family that has safe spaces to exist and which values its hugely diverse members. Do we include a T in LGBTQ well hell yeah! And we are racially inclusive, male AND female ANNNNNDDDDDD nonbinary (and other flavors), cis and trans …. we are people that have experienced being thrown out of our homes, fired from jobs, abused on public transport, bullied in school, and traumatized by Section 28, devastated by a world that ignored a public health crisis that hit us first …. I mean, this is my big queer family. And a confused Raven who maybe doesn’t WANT to be evil, and a genderfucked Prince with a glittery embroidered vagina where their codpiece should be, and Principal BoysOrGirlsOrWhatever and all of it, the silly pop songs and transformed Abba, it’s all us.

And it’s all at the RVT. And for all it’s silly and rude, “Pricked” is 100% the adult panto that will make YOU feel at home, singing along, laughing, and forgetting, with your found family, for just a short moment (if only it could be forever) what a horrible crap world it is.

How much did I like it? Well, my darlings, I bought tickets before it even opened, and I’d seen it last year, so what does THAT say to you?

(This review is for a performance that took place Wednesday, December 8, 2021. It continues through January 6th and is selling out left right and center so <a href=”https://www.outsavvy.com/event/7325/pricked-the-rvt-panto-2021″>make plans to hang with your queer family</a> while you can!0

Sondheim’s “Follies” and The Art of Drag

On Wednesday I went to the Art of Drag class of 2020 showcase, unsurprisingly being held in 2021 but still at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. I like what Michael Twaits does with his students and love the thought of a bunch of new drag artists being released on the world that have the same positive attitude, lack of misogny, and fabulousness as Michael himself.

But I also love having the opportunity to watch Michael perform, which I haven’t had since before I moved house in June. He used one of his spotlight moments to do a fundraiser for Cabaret Versus Cancer (the founder of which was in the showcase). Those who put a paper item into the collection bucket got to pick a musical from which Michael would sing a song: I chose “Follies.” To my pleasure, Michael switched it up, making it “I think about drag.” And that pushed me to make my own lyrics, based on my life with four cats, and, for this week, 7 kittens and their two moms.

“The sun comes up, I think about cats
The litter box,I think about cats
I love tehm so much, but I’m losing my mind

I open cans, I think about cats
Talk to myself, and talk to the cats
I think they know that I am losing my mind

All livelong day doing oh so many chores
The litterbox burning bright
Sometimes they poop in the middle of the floor
Or on the side
Or out of sight

I dim the lights and think about cats
Those sleepless nights … did I hear the cats?
Was that the kitchen? What have they done this time?
I think I’m losing my mind.

All night and day doing oh so many chores
Is this the food that you like?
I know you liked it just the other day ….
What’s in your fur?
Why must they fight?

I go to bed and think about cats
Such sleepless nights, and I blame the cats
How did you get there? What have you broken this time?
I know I have lost my mind!

Review – A Christmas Carol – Guildford Shakespeare and Jermyn Street Theatre

It’s been a right old year, hasn’t it? I’ve been wanting to have some Christmas cheer more than ever, and seeing “A Christmas Carol” live, on stage, has been a Christmas tradition for me for well over 20 years (remember “A Tap Dance Christmas Carol” or “The Black Light Christmas Carol?” – oh, it’s just me, then). And when suddenly the government closed all the theaters down and every performance that could needed to move online …. well, the <a href=”https://www.guildford-shakespeare-company.co.uk/a-christmas-carol/”>Guildford Shakespeare Company</a> did a great job with their <a href=”https://www.guildford-shakespeare-company.co.uk/the-wind-in-the-willows-2015/”><I>Wind in the Willows</I></a> this summer, a play that gave me real hope for the format of semi-interactive Zoom theater, so when I heard they’d teamed up with Jermyn Street Theater to do A Christmas Carol – and with Brian Blessed! – I was determined to see it. A live streamed Christmas Carol – how perfect for Christmas 2020!

A brief note on technology: if you choose to see this, it’s best you are ready with Zoom preinstalled on your computer, and for heaven’s sake do NOT get on the microphone to ask people for help getting your tech issues sorted out as everyone will be able to hear it! The performance I watched suffered from having an audience member keep turning their microphone on after they were muted, and I didn’t want to hear their voices over my computer speakers any more than I would have wanted to listen to someone talk about a gall bladder operation while I was watching a show. The link and password will show up about 8 hours before the show, so you should have what you need to check that your technology is working long before the curtain rises – and we were given an extra five minutes or so to sort things out after the official start time. Also: this show can be participatory if you want to participate! If you do, leave your computer’s camera on and the cast may call on you at certain points during the show. (I did not as I live in a very small flat but others dressed up for the show and got very much into the spirit.)

The production is fairly close to the original story although with a few 2020 updates. Jim Findley as Scrooge was kitted out with hand san and comments about the “dreaded lurgy” that was going around, which set him up nicely to keep visitors to his office at twice arm’s length. The rest of the cast did quite a bit of multi-roling. I got a lot of pleasure out of Robin Morrisey as the most put upon Bob Cratchitt I’d ever seen – never realized the character had so much potential for comedy!

The special effects were decidedly NOT at cinema quality, but it’s not reasonable to expect this from this medium. Actually just having people interact with each other while they appeared to be in the same room having dinner together was a treat enough and a good reminder of days past and hopefully still to come. The invitations to join the Fezziwigs’ dance party were most welcome and taken up by a few audience members – it’s the kind of thing I always wished would happen at performances of “A Christmas Carol”! – but I must register a complaint about the food the Cratchitt’s had to eat – even if we were just pretending it was stage food, it seemed like about a potato and a chicken leg each and seeing how little they had (and listening to them talk about how it was a magnificent feast) was making me laugh. Please, a few more potatoes!

The big moments for the production were, of course, the scenes with Penelope Keith (Ghost of Christmas Past) and Brian Blessed (Ghost of Christmas Present). Blessed, of course, was born to play this role, as he’s practically the illustration from the Victorian editions of the story – bearded, giant, jolly, and rather fetching wearing a crown of holly. I was sorry that his singalong moment seemed so rushed – it was a good moment and I would have liked to have spent more time there. Keith, meanwhile, had the far less fun role, but she brought to it an ethereal presence well suited to a character that takes Scrooge through all of his regrets.

I’d say this was more of a family production than many darker versions of the Christmas Carol (suits me this year), with a brisk running time of 75 minutes – and attractively priced at £20. It’s selling out quickly, so if you want to get in while you can, pop over to the <a href=”https://www.guildford-shakespeare-company.co.uk/a-christmas-carol/”>Guildford Shakespeare Company site</a> and get a ticket bought. UPDATE: Only Wednesday left so chop chop!

Finally: a glass of mulled wine would be perfect with this show, so don’t forget to brew it up before the show begins!

Final performances will be on :

Tues 29 Dec, 7.30pm
Wed 30 Dec, 3pm
Wed 30 Dec, 7.30pm

Review – Trainers: A Theatrical Essay – Gate Theater

When you’re a critic, you learn that press releases aren’t always the truth. I mean, the truth can vary depending on who is telling it, so let’s say press releases sometimes don’t meet my truth. Let’s discuss the press release for Trainers:

“Set in a post gender future, Trainers… is part essay and part play. It follows a struggling writer who falls in with a group of depressed queer revolutionaries during a future civil war … [and] explores what it takes to challenge the politics of one’s time and how we can train for a revolution.

“Director Hestor Chillingworth said ‘For anyone who has questions about theatre, gender, power and hope – Trainers is a great place to come to ask them with us.’ ”

This is what was promised. I am a queer theater maker, and my partner is trans. I am interested in queer theater, gender, trans “work,” and, well, theater! I would have thought I was the ideal audience for this show, but …

Two actors are on stage. One appears to be cis female (Nicky Hobday); the other could be cis or trans but is called “he” in the program (Nando Messias) and is wearing a fabulous dress. They are standing on a stage with many objects on it – chairs, rolled carpets, a horse statue, an office chair, a stool, a bicycle, a bucket of paint, et cetera. They start talking – sometimes in turns, sometimes simultaneously – explaining a bit of the concept of what we are about to watch. It’s sort of an essay. It’s sort of inspired by Montaigne. The conceit is used that when one of them says “I” they are the writer of the work.

So … there is rather a long bit about essay writing, which seemed in the end to say that essays don’t have to have a point, and at some point the “I” starts to be a writer who is living in this post-apocalyptic future where people ride horses and parts of the city are walled off from others. “I” is a writer, in love with Stephen, who writes revolutionary pamphlets and is popular.

Beyond this … there is little sense of a real story, no narrative forward motion, and very little sense of real people being created on stage. It didn’t even really tie the metaphor of “trainers” in, despite numerous mention of personal trainers. Instead, the actors change clothes, eat paint and oil (or pretend to), and neither do nor say anything that to me indicated queerness or transness. The only scene that really struck me was very trans was one in which they attempted to negotiate a first sexual encounter with each other, knowing nothing of what sensitive bits of human machinery they might work with; but otherwise …

Trainers (c) Alex Harvey Brown – Nando Messias and Nicki Hobday

How to have a revolution? Challenging the politics of one’s times? I felt I got none of this, and only the slightest taste of there being other events going on besides the slight story of a possible romance. People in the audience were cheering wildly, but I felt this show was self indulgent and formless. It’s a shame, because both performers were quite compelling and I can imagine happily seeing them in a different production in the future. Trainers on for a three week run, though, so possibly there are many people out there who will find this show speaks to them. Me, it made me think I should put my head to doing more explicitly queer works, because while we all know the revolution will not be televised, this made me think it’s not going to be on the stage, either. Not this time, anyway.

(This review was for press night, which took place March 3, 2020. It continues through March 21st.)

Review – Darkfield Trilogy (Seance, Flight, Coma) – Three Shipping Containers at Lewis Cubitt Square

I like theater that pushes me: not by doing hamfisted triggery stuff about blood and abuse but stuff that challenges my comfort zones in solid, meatspace kinds of ways. One on one theater can do this easily; but there’s also much to be said for theater performed in the dark. Darkfield was going to push my claustrophobia buttons; but were they going to take it too far? I am simultaneously a bit of a coward and terribly intrigued by seeing what I can handle but also by the way my sensory perception changes when I don’t have access to light anymore. So, hey, maybe Darkfield didn’t actually want a person like me coming to review their shows at all; but I was fairly sure nobody would try to touch me by surprise, and I, er, cheated by having my partner come with me so in case I did get genuinely panicky I’d have someone there I could CHOOSE to touch.

So, what did I think I was going to see? (You can read what’s on the press release, I’ll tell you how I interpreted it.) First, for Seance: I am interested in 19th century spiritualism (especially after seeing the Smoke and Mirrors exhibit at the Wellcome), and what I was hoping for was a proper seance with glowing things floating in the air and hands coming out of the table. What I got was an audio experience, with, I believe, a moving table (authentic enough); it seemed that it was taking place with the various audience members participating but it was clear enough that what I was listening to was entirely a recording. In pitch blackness, it was easy enough to imagine there was someone walking around the room talking to us all; but reality was that the 20 of us were sat elbow to elbow around a table about 2 feet wide and with our backs against the wall, so clearly nobody was walking in the room at all. We were being told a story as it it were happening in front of us, but nothing ever was seen once the lights dropped. In some ways I was disappointed (as I’d love to experience a real seance!); but in this case, I just enjoyed what was pretty much a ghost story that you were part of, and it was good. Also, I didn’t get so freaked out I had to leave, and nobody touched me. This was, in the end, my favorite of all of them, and I’d highly recommend making time to attend this.

Number two was “Flight,” which took place in a shipping container that had rows of airline seats in it, and windows on the right. I was expecting to be in a plane that crashes, although I didn’t really know how they would handle it; I was incorrectly thinking that most of the experience would be aural. Again, no one tries to touch you, and there is no one to be seen, just heard in the headphones. For this one, there were moments where it was honestly so loud I had to take the headphones off, and I would have a little bit of a question about the safety of the sound levels. It was a thoughtful and interesting experience, but with the roar of an airplane constantly in the background, I missed too much of the dialogue, and for this reason I must say this one was the least effective of the trio. There was an experience and some philosophy but over all BBBRRRRROOOOWWWWWWMMMMMM .

Finally, the most physically uncomfortable part of the night: Coma. You’d think that walking into a room set up with bunk beds that you’d be set – half an hour of just lying on your back, doing nothing. But with the temperatures outside near zero and a nice wind blowing to boot, I found I was cold and shivering for most of this, and I became focused on trying to keep my hands warm (as my feet lost sensation due to the cold – with boots on, natch!) and just in too much discomfort. I found the story telling for this section interesting, but I was expecting to be a lot closer to what it was actually like to be in a coma a la Shannon Yee’s Reassembled. Darkfield was interested in taking you on a slightly different journey, one which included smell-o-vision. But I wasn’t able to connect from the material – or disconnect from reality – enough to fully immerse myself in this one. Still, as pop-in, pop-out theater, any of these would be fun (at 30 minutes or less), and the nearby cafes and bars are actually a real treat. And it was cool to walk out into a heightened sense of reality from all of that time straining with your ears and skin and nose to find out the information your eyes could no longer give you. Try to make time for it while it’s on.

(This review is for an opening weekend performance that I saw on Saturday, February 29th, 2020. It continues through March 22nd.)