FESTIVAL THEATRE REVIEWS
N A M K R O W T R E B O R
R E T S B E W E N L O R A C
I
AND NO MORE SHALL WE PART Affecting look at voluntary euthanasia ●●●●●
Voluntary euthanasia is possibly the most contentious moral issue of our times; made more urgent by economic austerity and an ageing population. It is, perhaps, surprising that the theatre hasn’t broached the subject more often than it has.
Tom Holloway’s play (directed for Hampstead Theatre by James Macdonald) is a deeply affecting contemplation of the topic, not as an abstract concern, but in the agonising situation of a loving couple, one of whom has decided to end her life.
Pam’s prognosis is bad. Her doctors have
recommended that her treatment be stopped. To the shock and disbelief of her husband, Don, she has taken detailed advice on how to end her life, at home, before her unnamed condition degenerates to the point where living becomes unbearable. Dearbhla Molloy and Bill Paterson achieve tremendously emotive, tender performances as Macdonald’s stage-revolve moves us back and forward in time. The play never polemicises, but Pam’s need to contend, not only with fatal illness, but also the law feels like a gratuitous moral burden. (Mark Brown) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 26 Aug (not 20), times vary, £18–£20 (£13–£15).
MORNING Painful play for teenagers ●●●●●
At first glimpse, Simon Stephens’ ‘play for young people’ seems to take place in the same universe as an episode of Hollyoaks. Stephanie (Scarlet Billham) and her friends at sixth-form college hang out and have breathless discussions about sex, clothes, hairstyles and gadgets. There’s a shrillness in these interactions that fuels a creeping sense of unease, underscored by Hyemi Shin’s jarring set of wires, garage lighting and plastic sheeting and culminating in a brutal and seemingly senseless murder.
While uncomfortable viewing, Sean Holmes’ production has a certain painful fascination. The emotionless eloquence of Stephens’ teenaged characters – whether admiring a friend’s trainers or smashing someone’s skull in – is all the more disturbing because the ensemble of young actors give such perky, naturalistic performances. In the end, though, Stephens’ piece is undone by its lack of a clear message. While a case could be made for the play as a comment on the demonisation of the young as amoral, wanton destroyers, the absence of redeeming humanity leaves the scenario looking rather gratuitous. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Traverse Theatre, 228 1404, until 19 Aug, times vary, £18–£20 (£13–£15).
THE LIST Bleakly poignant dramatic monologue ●●●●●
In 1916, American playwright Susan Glaspell wrote a one-act piece, Trifles, about two women using their intimate knowledge of the domestic sphere to hide clues from a group of men investigating a murder. It may be nearly a century later, but Québécois writer Jennifer Tremblay’s The List is strikingly reminiscent of that landmark play in drawing on the trappings of the home to explore similar themes of female co-operation, identity and alienation in a bleakly poignant dramatic monologue.
Maureen Beattie gives a simmering performance as the unnamed narrator, a wife and mother whose decision to give up work and move to a small village has left her feeling increasingly unhappy and isolated. Her life has shrunk to a series of meticulous to-do lists, a never-ending cycle of recycling, school runs, expenses, housework, groceries and baking for local gatherings. One of these excruciating parties leads her into a tentative friendship with neighbour Caroline, a mother of four with another on the way. Caroline asks her new friend for a favour, which the protagonist adds to one of her lists, only to forget, with tragic consequences.
Muriel Romanes’ production for Stellar Quines mines Tremblay’s slow-burning monologue
(engagingly translated by Shelley Tepperman), making the most of the leavening dark humour and really ratcheting up the tension in the closing segment. The claustrophobic surrounds of the anatomy lecture theatre at Summerhall are the perfect reflection of the character’s sense of guilt and entrapment: at times she seems a prisoner in the dock facing her accusers. Meanwhile, John Byrne’s simple set with its single table and metal panel at the back of the stage recalls a prison cell. However, it’s Beattie’s superb, deceptively physical performance that really brings the play to life. Filling the small space with her increasingly strung-out movements, she does a wonderful job of creating the other characters in the story as well as the two very distinct sides of her protagonist’s public/private personae, in the process drawing us deeper into her helpless, desperate confession. (Allan Radcliffe) ■ Summerhall, 0845 874 3001, until 25 Aug (not 20), 2pm, £12 (£10).
R E N N E R B C R A M
DEATH BOOGIE Hip hop musical is all sound and fury ●●●●●
Death Boogie is a political hip hop musical, performed by a dancing poet-rapper rhyming over his own beatbox loops, a double bass player and violinist, all against a backdrop of comic-strip visuals. Sound like a sensory overload? It is.
The idea was a good one: poet Darian Dauchan’s
everyman Victor Spartan is stuck in a vortex of work, sleep and consumerism in a USA-like country, while his bullying big bro is away fighting in foreign lands. But the story has little power: disparate elements fail to link satisfyingly, and Dauchan comes over like a boisterous child engaged in some sort of scatty, breathless boy’s-own let’s-pretend game. The projected visuals and the funky discord of the
music suits the mood of disaffection, but it’s hard to make out the words between instruments, beats, movement and visuals – and when they do surface, rather than the feisty verbal dexterity of a poetry slam or a rap battle, they’re formed into disappointingly platitudinous statements. (Laura Ennor) ■ Assembly Roxy, 623 3030, until 27 Aug (not 20), 7.50pm, £10–£12 (£8–£10).
72 THE LIST 16–23 Aug 2012