{THEATRE} Reviews
THIRSTY Powerful physical evocation of the relationship between women and alcohol ●●●●●
In a bathroom, on a hen night, two boozed-up young women dance, shriek and hector the audience, the epitome of Booze Britain. In one of the three toilet cubicles Shane Durrant sits astride the porcelain throne surrounded by music-making accoutrements. To his musical score Jemma (McDonnell) and Kylie (Walsh) introduce their project: to tell the stories of women who drink. With drinking stories collected from a blog and
questionnaire and drunken ramblings culled from a hotline the duo weaves verbatim extracts with the story of their friendship, measured by the bottle. As the action moves from flat to pub to club to taxi rank Durrant sets the scene sonically, adding moments of humour without stealing focus. Fiammetta Horvat’s set evolves into playful versatility.
Leeds company The Paper Birds are known for the dynamic movement of their work and, as expected, McDonnell and Walsh inhabit all the women they portray with a full-blown physicality. Combined with adroit prop work a red patent show becomes an emblem of a whole tract of society, a glass becomes a talisman, a party dress both uniform and armour. While the cast purport to only be interested in showing the
highs of drinking, the flipside of blackouts, poor decision- making, hangovers and regret spills in. This is when their movement capabilities really begin to shine. Scrolling through the postures and actions of sobriety, drunkenness and dizzying sickness, they express a whole night’s agonies and ecstasies. While dealing with a topic that obliterates the senses they tell the stories of those who can barely speak, perform the dances of those who can barely stand. Without preaching or demonising, Thirsty engages with its subject with vitality, warmth and humour to create a powerful piece of physical theatre. (Suzanne Black) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 28 Aug (not 15), 5.45pm, £10–£11 (£9–£10).
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ALMA MATER Immersive, lovely look at childhood innocence and loss ●●●●● A CELEBRATION OF HAROLD PINTER Pinter wonderland survives the hype ●●●●●
THE CURSE OF MACBETH Great staging, shame about the acting ●●●●●
There’s been so much recent chatter about the use of digital technology in theatre that you can practically hear the inevitable Luddite backlash grinding up already: don’t let ’em drown out this tiny, beautiful ghost story. Using – at face value – just an iPad and a small white room, Glasgow company Fish and Game have managed to create a wholly new theatrical experience. The danger that accompanies any theatre event accompanied by movie star hype is that the piece itself becomes lost under the brouhaha surrounding its presenters. With John Malkovich directing Julian Sands for this piece, that was always the danger, but given the low-key nature of the project, there was bound to be a certain sinkage beneath the weight of the stars.
From the knife-wielding thugs that welcome you into the venue, it’s clear that this production of Macbeth is going to be in your face. And in those terms the show doesn’t disappoint. Its striking design – all bloodstained mirrors and dry ice – matches the sepulchral Baroque glory of the venue itself. The leather- and bondage-influenced costumes and visceral sound design only help to define a production that’s dark, physical and aggressive.
The solo audience member treats the iPad like a
Still, an appropriately healthy crowd was attracted If only this sumptuous staging were matched by
camera, matching the corners and doorknobs up to a film shot in apparently the same tiny space. Through the screen, the room becomes a little girl’s bedroom, and as she directs the user wordlessly about, the terrors and joys of her imagination spool out around you. She feels real; she’s right there, sitting beside you on her bed, and the film’s slick, horror movie-editing plays on this feeling to crank up the tension. It’s an utterly immersive and ultimately lovely look at childhood loneliness and loss, but the delicate, haunted worlds she drags you through are occasionally so unsettling you can feel them on your skin. Ball’s in your court, Microsoft. (Kirstin Innes) ■ St George’s West, 225 7001, until 29 Aug (not 15), every ten minutes from 11am–6.50pm, £5. 76 THE LIST 11–18 Aug 2011
to this retrospective of the poetry of the late, great pause-meister. Sands engages in anecdotes about his experience of Pinter, whom he found alternately fascinating and intimidating, goes on to explain the playwright’s own take on the subtle variations and meanings of his celebrated silences and throughout reads many extracts from Pinter’s much underrated poetry. It seems surprising, though, that early poetry about love, cricket and the human condition is favoured over the poetry of political anger that Pinter increasingly favoured. This latter period is given rather short shrift, but the piece as a whole does fairly well what it claims to do. (Steve Cramer) ■ Pleasance Courtyard, 556 6550, until 21 Aug, 3pm, £12.50–£15 (£11.50–£14). the content. Shakespeare’s original has been rather hacked about in reducing it to just over an hour in length – and in any case, words are often lost behind the set’s towering mirrored panels. The acting is variable: Guy Woolf is a petulant Macbeth (it’s hard to believe he really has designs on the crown), there’s a passionate yet fragile Lady Macbeth from Eve Hedderwick-Turner, and Jack Hudson delivers a strong Macduff, full of impotent rage on discovering the death of his family. If the effort devoted to the staging had been applied to the delivery, this could have been a winner. (David Kettle) ■ The Playhouse at Hawke and Hunter Green Room, 0844 871 3014, until 29 Aug (not 15), 4pm, £10.50 (£9.50).