Catherine Bennett resumes the weekly look at the performing arts world, with the sad end of Jerusalem, the luck of a cabbie, and French revolt. Do you hear the people sing?
Adam Alcock reviews Nigel Kennedy playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons and his own Four Elements at York Opera House.
Catherine Bennett highlights the trends in the performing arts world today.
Jonathan Cridford reviews 'Ghosts', one of the Freshers' plays for this year.
Absurdist theatre: good for the mind; bad for the soul. The first time I heard of Samuel Beckett was at the highly impressionable age of 12. My mother, then an English Literature student, was speaking to a course mate about the play they were studying, Waiting For Godot, which they both described as “The most pointless, tedious and utterly abysmal play ever written, a pretentious mess of interwoven pauses and non sequiturs; a waste of time”. Needless to say, I attended this week’s Drama Barn offering with a certain level of apprehension. Was I about to waste three hours of my life? Could I be sunk by it into a repetitive never-ending depression? Would I, during the interval, be tempted like Gogo and Didi to wind a noose around the tree and hang myself rather than face the potential monotonous abyss that I imagined could be the second act? Thankfully, no - thanks to some excellent performances and mean direction from Anjali Vyas-Brannick, the production of Samuel Beckett’s absurdist pièce de résistance is well realised, entertaining and, thankfully, not three hours long.
The key is in the pace – far from overusing pauses, lines are delivered in a prompt, immediate fashion which serves to highlight some of Beckett’s sparring humour which may not necessarily be obvious in the seemingly dry script. Admittedly, this is more apparent in the first act than the second, but that owes to the switch to a decidedly darker tone and the energy of the first half is maintained. Rory Hern and Nick Devlin form an unfaultable double act as Vladimir and Estragon – Hern’s stylised, precise movements contrast wonderfully to Devlin’s more understated and softer though still very definite physicality. Meanwhile Pete Watts and Peter Marshall give excellently well-rounded performances as Pozzo and Lucky – Watts manages to portray the tyrannical fool with admirable, near alarming neuroticism, whilst Marshall is utterly fascinating to watch, even during his long scenes of silence, as he twists, shakes and bends himself like some grotesque human horse. For a character who only speaks once in the play, Marshall has a quality of voice and a stage presence which can easily captivate an entire audience and the moment when Lucky finally gives voice to his thoughts is a highlight of the production. Alistair Kerr, though only a minor role, is simultaneously endearing and unnerving as The Boy, and overall the production is perfectly cast.
The set is beautifully realised, the lighting and single tree in its place amongst the audience opens the production out onto us and creates a beautiful eerie atmosphere intensified by having the audience on three sides. Unfortunately, this also resulted in my main criticism of the play – the staging used results in some unfortunate masking for anyone sitting too far to the side of the stage, which can be particularly galling at times.
This is Beckett as it should be: sharp, sometimes witty, and poignant. Unfortunately, Beckett’s plays, as with most absurdist writings, are very much an acquired taste, and no amount of well-executed direction, performance or mise-en-scene can remedy that. If you want a story with an obvious meaning and line of action, do not look here, you will not find it (although I’m sure many would argue that a lack of meaning is a meaning in itself). But if you don’t mind being forced to put some thought into the driving force behind a seemingly plotless play, then definitely give this a go; you will not be disappointed.
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