{THEATRE} Reviews
AUDIENCE Ontroerend Goed slip out of the major league with cynical show ●●●●●
Audience opens with an informal talk from cast member Maria, about what it means to be in an audience. You’re not really supposed to talk; you need to clap at the end. We chuckle appreciatively. The joke is that of course we know this. We’re not just theatre-goers; we’re here to see one of the most notorious, manipulative experimental companies on the Fringe. We’re connoisseurs. The well-publicised conceit we’ve turned up for is that the audience are the star of this show. There’s a camera turned on us; we sit staring at our own faces as the company pull us to pieces. What seems apparent is that Ontroerend Goed have, to
some extent, lost respect for their audience. They are famous on the Fringe now. We keep hurling those high star ratings at them; people are now queuing up in droves to be shocked out of their comfort zones. Is Audience, at some level, an experiment in how much we’ll take before we turn on them? After an appalling act of sexual bullying, which, theatrical device or not, seriously humiliated a woman who had no expectation it was coming, the performers sit amongst us and argue the rights and wrongs of it. Maria contests that we’re all cultured, privileged people; that it is no hardship for us to take an hour’s public humiliation, and perhaps this sentiment does drive the work. She’s detached, though; there’s no real weight behind her words. Somewhere along the way, Ontroerend Goed have lost the sense of curiosity about the live experience that made their early shows so fascinating. They come off as cynical hipsters now, aloof children pulling the wings off flies because they can. Yes, Audience will move and provoke you, but the final montage of crowds at the Nuremberg rallies and on protest marches feels like little more than a sop to meaningfulness. Oh, and if you’re wearing a skirt, don’t sit in the front row. (Kirstin Innes) ■ St George’s West, 225 7001, until 28 Aug (not 24), 10.55pm, £10–£12 (£8–£10).
BELLEVILLE RENDEZ-VOUS Inventive adaptation of animated classic ●●●●● CUTTING THE CORD Streatham: Gateway to the West? ●●●●●
BONES Honest examination of life on the dole ●●●●●
L A V I T S E F
The main difference between FellSwoop’s adaptation of Belleville Rendez-vous and Sylvain Chomet’s animated original is the setting: while Chomet jumped right into the life of a pint-sized grandmother and her recently-orphaned bicycle-loving grandson, the theatre company first establishes the Belleville Cabaret Bar as a space in which the story will be acted out. Musicians sit visibly at the side of the stage while the bohemian cast operate puppets, move sets and take on inanimate prop roles as needed, without shattering the narrative universe.
Those familiar with the film will not be disappointed: all the significant set-pieces are in place, from the Tour de France kidnapping of the grown boy to the climactic car chase. FellSwoop, embracing the limitations of film-to-stage adaptation, even apply some bold stylistic changes, such as a bicycle-wheel seascape and a French conversation with live translation (the rest of the play, like the film, is almost entirely dialogue-free). Those who haven’t seen the movie may struggle to decipher some of the more abstract scenes, but this just gives them a barely-necessary reason to seek it out. (Niki Boyle) ■ Bedlam Theatre, 225 9893, until 20 Aug, 11am, £8 (£20 Family).
70 THE LIST 18–25 Aug 2011
Audience members queueing to enter Cutting the Cord are invited to tell a small wooden box where they’re coming from and where they’re going to. What seems like gratuitous cuteness pays off at the end of this engaging and skilful exploration of the world of Sachi, a young Japanese woman living in London. The show has perhaps more good ideas than it
can handle. It starts by focusing on Britain’s treatment of immigrants, as Sachi slyly demonstrates how the authorities ask her questions about British history that even the audience can’t answer; then it morphs into a muted tragicomedy about her social life in London, but then a family crisis yanks it in an even more personal direction. If the show can’t quite decide if it’s about Sachi or
about the audience there are plenty of incidental pleasures, such as a garrulous neighbour’s knitting unravelling itself, plus Daniel Marcus Clark’s live score, in turn witty and mournful.
By the end, the audience has been quietly but firmly reminded of exactly how at home it is – or isn’t. (Alex Johnston) ■ Underbelly, 0844 545 8252, until 27 Aug, 6.45pm, £9.50–£10.50 (£8.50–£9.50).
Nineteen-year-old Mark has just been released from prison to find himself in a world that’s almost as grim as the inside. Drink, drugs, violence and abuse are commonplace, as well as an unhealthy disrespect towards women and authority – likely a result of being burdened with a disturbed addict of a mother or a granddad who is a far cry from the fluffy-haired octogenarians in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Mark narrates his current problems, including his mother’s unwanted newborn and how he is to get rid of it, and his bittersweet memories of the past. Projections are interspersed with the one-man monologue, aiming to challenge clichés and assumptions associated with ‘chavs’, council estates and benefits. Actor Joe Doherty is an engaging young talent, bringing a strange relatability to a character who could have come across as completely unlikeable or impossible to empathise with, instead promoting understanding of the social and emotional problems which led Mark to where he has ended up. Bones is ultimately an intense, unsettling and very rewarding piece. (Lauren Mayberry) ■ Zoo, 662 6892, until 28 Aug (not 22), 4.10pm, £9 (£7).