A line of empty chairs. A table upstage with clipboards containing scripts, and some audio equipment. A microphone. These are the simple tools that create the magical and multidimensional world of An Oak Tree. 20 years on, with so many spiderwebs of influence spawning from this singular creation, the looming question is, does this still work?
Indeed it does. A second performer meets Tim Crouch an hour before the performance, for a hello and to ask questions. They wait in the audience for the play to begin. But it has already begun; the world is being spun slightly sideways on its axis, as we see Tim the performer, Tim in character, and Tim the person (arguably Tim the writer is in there somewhere too) gently supporting the other actor in the journey, as they move between spaces and times, in and out of a character they are discovering on the page in front of us — all while never leaving the nearly empty space. When we saw the Young Vic production, the outstanding Adjoa Andoh was the guest performer; a tiny woman with the biggest heart and quickest mind you can imagine. Her imagination raced and took us along with her. Simply watching her imagine spaces that Tim described to her aloud was riveting, and observing her first instinctual read and response to the text was pure and sensational.
Obviously Andoh is an incredible performer, but the opportunity to watch her first interaction with a script, character, and story, in the space created by Tim’s play, is something else. My husband, who is familiar with Crouch’s work was fooled by Tim’s clever script and Adjoa’s intellect into being convinced that surely, movements were directed, responses rehearsed. Indeed they were not. That’s the magic of Crouch’s script; it creates a playground for an intelligent and willing actor to play, laying bare to the process of analysis, creation, and engagement, all right before our eyes.
I feel blessed to have witnessed this evening.
