Theatre
PREVIEW CLASSIC TALKING HEADS Dundee Rep, Wed 22–Sat 25 Sep
Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads must be the best-known example of a form that receives little attention from either the telly-watching or the theatre-going publics: the dramatic monologue. The reasons for their enduring popularity are perhaps twofold: there’s the nostalgic fug surrounding those stunningly cast BBC versions aired in 1988 and 1998, and then of course there’s the irresistible charm of Bennett’s cutting but affectionate observational writing, which somehow manages to feel effortless in its miniscule detail and subtlety. While the rest of the company is out on tour this
autumn, Dundee Rep Ensemble members Irene MacDougall, Emily Winter and Robert Paterson are trying something new: each will perform one monologue, and direct a fellow Ensemble member in one of the others, making for a fascinating triumvirate of separate but linked performances. For MacDougall, the process has been one of discovery – both of the myriad detail locked into Bennett’s speeches, and, as a relatively inexperienced director, of the extra dimensions a good actress can bring to an understanding of a character. Directing Winter in ‘Her Big Chance’, the tale of an aspiring
actress who mistakenly stumbles into a role in a soft- porn film, she has found it ‘a bit of a revelation’ for ‘a character to be so nice and actually very funny as well’. Her own character, Susan, the vicar’s wife (the fact that her name is always suffixed thus symptomatic of her predicament in the piece), is much more painfully self- aware but equally full of subtle contradiction: MacDougall describes her as ‘gently excoriating about herself’. Speaking about the spectre of those award-winning
televised versions, she is convincingly confident that a new stage version is just what we need to get to grips with these finely observed characters: ‘These people [are] known for being extraordinary actors, so [the performances] are kind of iconic in themselves, and it becomes as much about watching how does Maggie Smith or Patricia Routledge do this, and sometimes I think maybe we see how fantastic they are and we stop looking at the characters.’
The bleak and the humorous rub up against each other throughout Talking Heads, never allowing audiences to forget the loneliness at the heart of each story or drawing to a neat and theatrically satisfying conclusion. ‘I think they all have this dying fall,’ muses MacDougall. ‘There are moments of joy in them, there are moments that are very, very funny, and then you sort of get caught up short.’ (Laura Ennor)
S S O R W E R D N A
PREVIEW ADAPTATION OPIUM EATER Tron Theatre, Glasgow, Wed 15–Sat 18 Sep
PREVIEW BALLET SCOTTISH BALLET: GEOMETRY AND GRACE Theatre Royal, Glasgow, Thu 16–Sat 18 Sep; Edinburgh Festival Theatre, Thu 23–Sat 25 Sep
‘Fitter, happier, more productive,’ say Radiohead in their song of (almost) the same name – used to superb effect by Scottish Ballet in its 2007 piece, Ride The Beast. Three years later, it’s a slogan that still suits the company.
Ever since Ashley Page took over the reins of our national ballet troupe in 2002, the quality of the dancing has steadily grown, with no sign of plateauing out. And arguably one of the most challenging pieces Scottish Ballet has tackled in recent years is Sir Frederick Ashton’s Scènes de ballet. Created by Ashton for the Royal Ballet in 1948, and performed by Scottish Ballet at the 2009 Edinburgh International Festival, the work is stylish, but fiendishly tricky to dance. To show it off to a wider audience,
and give the dancers another shot at it, Page has included Scènes de ballet in the company’s upcoming autumn season, Geometry and Grace. Sitting alongside it will be Page’s own award- winning (and equally tricky) Fearful Symmetries and a brand new work by San Francisco-based choreographer, Val Caniparoli. ‘Scènes de ballet is one of Ashton’s greatest works and will always be a challenge,’ says Page. ‘Dancers, like Olympic athletes, seem to be able to do more and more with their bodies as time goes on, but Scènes remains as tough as it always was. It’s an absolute classic, though, with a fantastic Stravinsky score and sophisticated designs – Ashton got it all absolutely right.’ (Kelly Apter)
Thomas De Quincey’s Confessions of an English Opium-Eater is the grandaddy of the junkie philosophy genre and the inspiration behind Andrew Dallmeyer’s biographical play Opium Eater. Now Alasdair McCrone, artistic director of the Mull Theatre, is bringing the ‘Trainspotting of the 1800s’ to the stage again after 20 years. Prior to its short run at Glasgow’s Tron Theatre, McCrone explains the reasons behind its revival. ‘The timing was right,’ he says. ‘I wanted a small-scale drama, and what sits at the heart of the story is the symbiotic relationship between the two characters.’ After being pestered by Dallmeyer to give it a read, he was surprised by its realism, relevance and above all, its humour. This may strike those familiar with the original as odd – tales of addiction and penury are rarely side-splitting stuff – but there’s a certain comic value in recounting scenes and experiences so out of kilter with our perceptions of the buttoned-up early Victorian era. Twenty years after the publication of the Confessions, the erstwhile English genius spent two years in Edinburgh squatting in the Grassmarket and living hand-to-mouth peddling magazine articles to get his next laudanum fix, and it is here that Opium Eater takes place. Ultimately, though, the story’s about not drugs but relationships, specifically the odd and touching comradeship between the beleaguered writer and local simpleton Willy, an errand boy turned friend who isn’t quite as daft as he appears. ‘It may be historical, but it’s not dated,’ insists McCrone. ‘Tales about the human condition have no sell-by-date.’ (Siân Hickson)
86 THE LIST 9–23 Sep 2010