ROTHKO - Łukacz Twarkowski @ Barbican

What gives art value? This is the central question of Twarkowski’s Rothko, a dazzling multimedia epic which blends live performance, live to film recording, an extravagant set, and overwhelming encompassing music. Positioned as a documentary, but in overlapping timelines, the play digs into the historical moment when a Rothko was sold posthumously at a record fee, but then identified as a fraud, actually made by someone in China. The core event is surrounded by its past and future, layering a single place — the restaurant frequented by Rothko and his contemporaries in New York — with the current reflective documentary moment, the moment itself, and Rothko himself.

It would be challenging to say there is a narrative here (although there are elements of story), but rather the production is an argument. We see layers of “real” and “fake”, authentic and inauthentic, high art and workaday. They overlap and bump into one another. The text at times is scenes, but at others is documentary, while still others arguments, almost ted talks.

This is compelling, deeply intellectual work — and yet it didn’t feel like a lesson. The pace and inventiveness of the way the piece moves, both physically and intellectually, is blistering, relentless. Absolutely incredible, and its questions are still cropping up in my mind, even weeks later.

The Seagull @ Barbican

There is little that is nice about these people. Ostermeier’s new production of Chekhov’s The Seagull, adapted with Duncan Macmillan, breathes modern ennui and longing into a story over 100 years old. The characters in this play are petty, selfish, petulant, and buffoonish; at no point does Ostermeier try to make them good or admirable, and as a result, we get some exceptional performances from the exquisite cast.

The display of class cues to elicit understanding of the characters’ rank is notable; while these people endure one another, they certainly don’t (for the most part) like one another. Kostya (Kodi Smit-Mcphee) merely tolerates Masha (a pitch perfect Tonya Reynolds), despite her obsession with him. Masha openly disdains Simon (a brilliant Zachary Harris, who in his northern accent, armed with a guitar, is our window into the world).

Emma Corrin’s Nina is heartbreaking; the contrast between her first and second act selves is outstanding, and the thoughtful approach to her breakdown is really quite darkly beautiful. Where many would play Nina’s breakdown in broad melodramatic strokes, Corrin’s Nina appears to be crumbling before our eyes, a porcelain doll teetering at the edge of the shelf.

And what do we say about Trigorin? Tom Burke does not interpret him as an esthete, but rather as a boorish bro, who happened into writing. He is brutish and self centered, making Nina’s love of him more tragic, and his ability to forget about her, the little plaything, all the more believable.

Finally, Cate Blanchett’s Arkadina is a dream. She is a clown, almost bipolar in her swings between desperation for attention and brooding quiet. All the characters have their moments amplified by the microphones on stage, wherein they speak their performative thoughts into amplification, and for Arkadina these are unsurprisingly the most frequent, and the most haunting. The argument where she manipulates Trigorin specifically stands out, as does her breakdown with Kostya.

The willingness to step in and out of the fourth wall, a constant awareness of the act of performance and the presence of the audience makes this Seagull truly powerful. We are all actors, putting on a face, an act, to appear the way we want the world to see us. Some of us are just more aware of it than others.

Small Forward - Belarus Free Theatre @ Barbican Pit

Working with famous Belarusian basketball player Katya Snetsyna, Belarus Free Theatre’s latest production, KS6: Small Forward, focusses on Katya’s experience of coming to the realisation of the atrocities her government commits against its citizens, and being ostracised and outcast herself after standing up against the dictatorship, speaking out, and coming out as homosexual. 

The production deploys Belarus Free Theatre’s trademark playful stagecraft, this time framing the production around a basketball game, including a kiss cam, live DJ, and half time basket competition. While it is fun and engaging, the production as a whole doesn’t quite hang together — which is unfortunate, as the story is compelling, and important to raise awareness. 

The use of music was clever, with the live DJ Blanka Barbara not only hyping up the crowd as if at a basketball game, but then also live mixing the underscoring for the entire play. The design used the tools of a gym and basketball game to create multiple spaces and evoke feelings which were at times really powerful, but also at times didn’t quite have the desired impact. 

All in all not a bad production, just not their best — which is unfortunate as the subject matter deserves attention. While led by Snetsyna who is an engaging person (she lit up in the pre-show chat) most moments of her as an actor fell flat — which is fair for a first time actor leading such a huge story. Additionally, I really liked the touch of sharing images and QR to write to prisoners, but although it did tie in to an element of the story (when she speaks of her friend who was imprisoned) the link feels tenuous — and again here I just wanted it to connect a little more deeply. 

Five Lines @ Barbican Pit for Mime London Festival

Five Lines bills itself as micro cinema; live projected and manipulated models of miniature objects, with a mixture of live and pre recorded sound as well as video, and some moments of live action. The seed of the idea was interesting; a couple meet and fall in love, then there is a natural disaster and they are forced to live in a shady underground hierarchical world where their work is exploited, and their interests (he a musician, she an activist) diverge. The cast were responsible for manipulating the scenes and lights, as well as the cinematography. There was a lot going on, a lot of ideas, but rarely did they feel like they held together for more than a moment or two.

Choices around how elements were used, and the scale of action, or even what was live/manipulated/pre recorded felt arbitrary and confusing. Indeed even choices around when to see the manipulation of miniatures and when it was “magic” were inconsistent and arbitrary. This isn’t to detract from the skill of the performers, or the seed of the idea…it simply did not translate into anything compelling or meaningful.

Not A Word - Bru Theatre @ Barbican Pit for Mime London Festival

Not A Word is a poetic, wordless reflection on the loneliness of those living and working abroad, with specific reference to the Navvies who left Ireland to work in ports, in gruelling, lonely jobs.

A unique and thoughtful production, this piece challenges our perception both of the story as it unfolds, but our expectations of reality. A world is created, rules understood, and then these expectations are upended in a moment of surprise or shift, playing with surreal moments such as a magical world appearing in a cupboard, while hyper real moments abound such as a functioning tap and steaming kettle. The innovative use of these elements created a strong and cohesive overall production. The use of music and sound was innovative as well, creating a representation of both the real shipyard and the fanciful memory of home, layering live and recorded sound in real time, almost overwhelming and creating a sense of this for the audience, replicating what the character felt, too.

Absolutely beautiful, breathtaking work, that took its time.

Lay Down Your Burdens @ Barbican Pit

This dance theatre performance from Rhainnon Faith company created a thrust performance space reminiscent of a pub; red patterned carpet, circular wooden bar, and a mix of “immersive” seats around the performing space which the performers interacted with, and more traditional rows of seats. Right from the start the piece created a very informal and non-performative feeling; actors were in the space interacting neutrally with the audience as they came in.

Quickly, however, the production moved into audience participation, which for me didn’t feel like it was set up quite right, and felt jarring. From here the two act performance had peaks and valleys. There were some very beautiful and evocative physical moments, but also moments which felt confused and disjointed. This for me was a problem of dramaturgy and directorial vision rather than performance; the company were wildly talented, moving through the performance space with a delightful ease and confidence. Unfortunately the result of the disjointed arch is that it felt like the first act was entirely too long, or could have been done without.

The one standout element was the sound design which included a live mix of the audience recorded moments to create a unique soundscape and collective memory of the experience. This was quite delightful; and lasts much more positively in my memory than the balance of the production.

A Play For the Living in a Time of Extinction - Katie Mitchell/Headlong @ Barbican

It is simultaneously full of artifice, and absent it entirely. Katie Mitchell’s bicycle powered one-woman show (performed passionabely at The Barbican by Lydia West) is as much spoken word poem as it is lecture, as much monologue as it is news article. And that’s to its credit; while we are given a story and much to look at, it feels inherently un-play-like. Instead we are confronted with a barrage of information and literal labour - 8 cyclists ride for the duration of the 90+ minute performance to power the minimal lighting grid and projections. We are reminded of the energy and effort required to create theatre; that even those of us who consciously consumed our way to that point in the day, via public transport and reusable bags filled with bread from eco-conscious bakeries, and with coffee in reusable cups will sit in a theatre and absorb spectacle which takes resource from this planet. A play about a time of extinction, too.

The production leaned a little too heavily into a few moments of audience participation for my taste - the early pieces engaging with the audience I thought really fruitful and useful to the story, however while the moments bringing audience up on stage had payoff from a visual sense later in the production when the choir came on stage, it felt contrived and almost like a way to fill time, which is rarely good.

Overall the marriage of the text and its performance were strong; I just wonder whether there is any benefit of performing this for a room of reusable bag using Barbican goers. Will it change anything?

Age of Rage - International Theatre Amsterdam @ Barbican

Mud, steel pipes, a metal band. Blood from the ceiling. Mud on the ground, and thrown at one another. Not deus ex machina but dead children rising from the ground. Ivo Von Hove’s Age of Rage is a marathon of familial betrayal, ancient Greek style. Starting with Agamemnon and the gods’ edict to sacrifice Iphigenia to secure victory and retrieve Helen from Troy, and ending with Orestes and Electra’s murder of their mother and her new husband, the production traces the linkage across the family tree. What normally spans multiple plays and a good 20+ years in storyline is served to us in a driving 3 hrs 45 minutes.

The production employs a metal band live on stage, accompanying the action like a musical score to great effect, and choreography which takes place on the main stage area and also on a far upstage area, obscured by a lit scrim which also serves as the door — to another room, to outside, to the afterlife. Bodies move about the stage in writhing choreography, but the production works best when it strips back the chorus dancers and is just solo actors in extended monologues, wailing at the injustice of the world.

It was at times too long. I could have done with fewer dance interludes, and occasionally a faster pace, however these quibbles are outshone by an unnerving commitment to the concept. My only other complaint is simply that given the choice of aesthetic, some performances almost felt too tidy. Clytemnestra stood out for me as a beautifully messy performance. Mud covered, sweaty, dress nearly falling off and toppling across the mud in knee high heeled boots, the absurdity of this woman and her situation were undeniable.

The impact of combining the stories, however, was a powerful one — quite simply, it reminded us that Greek Tragedy is mainly men doing stupid things which cause pain and suffering to the women and children around them, who in turn overreact, and enact stupidity on others. On and on and on.

Ivanov - Theatre Of Nations @ Barbican

Timofey Kulyabin is renowned for his use of sound and silence, so the opportunity to see his interpretation of Chekhov was a promising one. The cavernous Barbican was willed with life from the start of the play, even in the most still, quiet, moments. Kulyabin’s Ivanov is positioned in a more modern Russia, with suits and party dresses, but the same old familial obligations. The characters sparkled and overlapped one another, and were truly funny. It is joyful to see Chekhov performed with true gleeful fun, as this high makes the sad, still, lonely moments all the lower.

What was interesting is that the set changes were glacial. At first, I didn’t know why. They seemed to suck the energy out of the production, however the next scene would burst out, filled with energy anew. This sat with me for some time; it felt clunky and almost amateurish, but as I continued to reflect (for weeks! I saw this Oct 12!) it began to be clear to me that this was intentional. Slow, clearly performative, demonstrating the construction of Ivanov’s life, his world, and the precariousness of that construction.

It is also thrilling to see theatre performed for its audience; the vast majority of this audience were from the Russian community around London. Their reactions to moments in the play were certainly different; the personal touches, the jokes about how families work (slippers for all visitors, breaking into song…) were wonderful and there for the Russian audience and had echoes of my own upbringing in a Ukrainian family, far away in Canada. At the end, the audience cheered voraciously - there were about 8 curtain calls, and as they escalated, audience members brought forward flowers for the performers…part of a clear ritual.

review. The Encounter @ Barbican London (via Live Stream) - Complicité

I often rant on about how theatre can be magical. This is a difficult rant, because for most people, the experience of truly magical theatrical experiences is just a myth. They've heard tell of it, but never truly been encompassed and transformed in the way that theatre has the capacity to do for us. 

This can change. 

Complicité are known for their genre-defying, technically stupendous work, so it is not surprising that when they set out to create an immersive play out of sounds, for which you sit with others but wear headphones, they succeeded in creating something truly magical. Written and performed by the company's leader, the astounding Simon McBurney, The Encounter is an audio experience -- but that doesn't do it justice. It is an overwhelming sensory experience, a new way of feeling a story, not just hearing or seeing it. It is a man and sound; nothing more. I won't say a ton, other than to let you know that you will not soon encounter anything quite like this. 

Lucky for us, The Encounter isn't limited in space and time; thanks to technology, you can stream the recorded live stream from The Barbican in London for a week via Complicité's Youtube channel. 

Do yourself a favour. Put on the headphones, turn everything else off, and immerse yourself for the 2 hours of The Encounter. I assure you, you will not regret it. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ghc-DM1TVWU