To You, The Birdie (Phèdre) - The Wooster Group (recorded 2002)

I watched this in recording from the 2002 Production. You can watch it here until March 30th, 2020.

Wooster productions are not for the faint of heart. Don’t expect narrative spoonfed to you. They are best enjoyed when you let the images and words just wash over you for awhile, don’t try to make sense of them. The logic and meaning will make itself clear when it is time.

Elizabeth LeCompte’s production is visually stunning. Screens light up, areas seem to move, manipulated by light. Voices come from afar, and don’t match the bodies we see in space, and yet it is clear who and what align. Paul Schmidt’s adaptation of Racine’s Phèdre maintains only what is essential. The heightened emotions of this well known story of lust and betrayal are emphatically on display, heightened further through the metaphor of a badminton match which looks like badminton, but sounds like a video game. The physical choreography at times somehow seems surreal, the tiny movements of bodies contrasted with larger movements of the space. The frailty of humanity, and our unbelievable smallness is contrasted with the vast and uncontrollable universe in which we find ourselves.

This world is illogical, and yet completely recognizable.

Girls Like That by Evan Placey @ Unicorn Theatre (Recorded 2015)

Girls Like That by Evan Placey was recorded in 2015 in its premiere at Unicorn Theatre, London. You can watch it here.

Esther Baker’s production employs a simple reconfigurable design on the Unicorn’s thrust stage, with nondescript classroom chairs which are arranged and re-arranged to new spaces. The 6 actors have a primary character whom each portrays at different ages through school years, while there are occasional monologues that take on a historical female persona. Throughout, the way women are viewed by men is examined, and in particular, the line between a “good girl” and a “slut”. I use both of these terms in quotations, as they are indicative of the male gaze, and the angel/whore dichotomy that women have been relegated to throughout history.

On one hand, it is great to hear the voices of young women, discussing these issues and tackling the challenges of being young and female. On the other, however, these are largely on the surface, and focused almost entirely on what others think of them, and less on what they think of themselves. There are glimpses of this truth, however fleeting. I didn’t feel the script offered insight into what the girls were really thinking and feeling but rather looked only at their public mask.

I wonder if I would have felt differently had I encountered this at its premiere in 2014. I’m not certain.

Inside by Dimitris Papaioannou (2011 - via Vimeo)

I watched Dimitris Papaioannou’s 2011 durational work Inside via Vimeo. You can watch it here.

One hour in. The patterns of movement are beautiful, subtle. When bodies overlap through spaces, they appear to be in conversation with one another - one person sits on the bed, the one lying in it adjusts, pulling up the blanket. The performers are in their own spaces, unaware of one another and yet in relationship.

The view out the window changes, and the feeling of the space changes with it, although nothing actually changes. You look away, do something else for a moment, and are surprised when you come back and the room is full, or empty.

Although the actual pace of the movements doesn’t change, the feeling of their pace seems to quicken when there are more people in view, and slow when there are fewer. It tricks the mind.

When we reach moments where the performers really do connect physically, the emotional narrative floods forward.

I’m at two hours, and continuing to watch…but want you to start too.

I, Malvolio by Tim Crouch (Brighton Festival 2015 - via Vimeo)

In furtherance of his status as one of the nicest humans you’ll meet, the amazing Tim Crouch has made the video archive of his performance of I, Malvolio at Brighton Festival in 2015 available without a password. You can watch it here.

Unlike most of my blogs which focus on documenting what happened, what I thought about it, etc, this will be a little different. I’ve just closed a second run of my own production of Tim’s brilliant play a few weeks ago, and have been immersed intellectually in this script for over a year. Despite that, I’ve never actually seen Tim perform the show. I’ve read about it, talked to him about it, heard him lecture on it, read reviews of it, you name it. I’ve read it countless times, torn it apart, interpreted, discussed, scenario-ized, and ultimately put it on its feet in two different venues and cities.

Watching Tim’s performance of the play was a bit surreal. First and foremost (and i knew this from seeing him perform other of his work), his performance is simultaneously highly theatrical, and completely anti-performative. He speaks and moves with complete simplicity, allowing the nature of the audience-performer relationship, the absurdity of watching people do things, lead the comedy. More importantly, though, it was fascinating to me to hear the moments of inflection, the break up of thoughts and moments in his performance versus ours. The simultaneous similarity and difference of the two was uncanny. I’ve never before experienced something like that - where two groups had clearly done the work in isolation and then come up with such similar and yet wholly different understandings of the text. This is truly a testament to Tim’s writing, the clarity with which he puts the thoughts on the page for us to pick up. Even moments of improvisation (which there are MANY) resulted in similar interactions, at times almost verbatim to things Justin said in the moment in response to an audience member’s reaction.

It is as if the character of Malvolio is so clearly described through the words, rhythm, and actions of the play, that if you do your work, there is no other choice for how to understand the intentions of the moment.

I strongly recommend watching this while it is available, especially for those who saw my production in either Toronto or Winnipeg. This production was performed for teens on a school trip.

And I emerge, once again (and perhaps even more than ever before) grateful to Tim for letting Justin and I play with his words.

Cyrano de Bergerac - The Jamie Lloyd Company via NT Live

It feels like a lifetime ago that I watched this show. Since I saw it, and it subsequently closed, I have also closed a show, and in the intervening weeks, the world has quite literally turned upside down. Moments of the show stick with me in these troubling times. Lights tight on the face of a dying character, while we hear shouts and panic all around, forced to only look at the face of this man suffering. Compelling stuff in this moment.

Jamie Lloyd directs this delightfully physical interpretation, with a new script by Martin Crimp, which focuses on the language. Words are swords, words are strength. Words are shields, and they reveal us. The heightened language of the original is re-positioned as spoken word poetry, at times hip hop, with beat boxing on stage, and choreographed fights that verge into Jerome Robbins style dance fighting. The cast move as a unit through the beautiful and simple design, where sound and light are the true forces of storytelling in a way they only can possibly be in the theatre.

This is deeply theatrical work. Moments of tension, seeing others, forced to reckon with their physical presence as we hear characters talk about them. Moments of reflection, literal and psychological. Moments of tight focus, and moments of huge expanse.

James McAvoy is electric in this production. He embodies strength and vulnerability simultaneously, on the razor’s edge of desperate masculinity and intellectual strength. The cast as a whole are fantastic, but it is McAvoy’s magnetism that pulls us through. The fragility of his masculine edge, as he suppresses his intellectual tendencies is truly heartbreaking to watch - as we see his love for Roxanne manifest itself in his inability to express it to her.

Class - Scottee & Friends @ Progress Festival

There is something really special about this show. Living in a grey area between standup comedy, theatre, and performance art, Scottee’s Class lays bare the truths of growing up working class, and making a living as an artist. Armed with a microphone and red Adidas tracksuit, on white carpet (shoes OFF), Scottee confronts his largely middle class audience with the assumptions they have about the working class. At first playful and comedic, he brings the audience in and flatters them with comedy before turning the knife sharply, and reminding the audience that these stories are true. That they are his memories.

At the start, he asks the audience to identify as working class, or as middle class. Like the polite Canadians we are, most of the audience were shy to hold up their hands to identify as middle class, which I’m sure is not unique. For those of us who grew up working class, he reminds us this show is for them, but asks us to check in with one another afterward. I did not expect to be affected by this in the way I was. That permission to identify, the clear and honest stories of his youth, which in many real ways mirrored my own, punched me in the gut. When he warned us to check in with one another after the show, I didn’t expect to need it. I did. I had to leave the theatre quickly following the show due to other obligations, but found myself crying and grasping for breath on the phone when trying to give my husband a quick couple sentences about what I had just seen.

Scottee’s work is meaningful and powerful, and so important for people to see.

ShakespeareFest from afar

This has been a first for me; leaving a show behind to run in a city, without me.

Not to say I typically attend every performance of a show I’ve directed. Typically I’ll attend a couple times, but otherwise let them run. But somehow leaving the city, switching my brain to a new show while that team are still invested and living in the first, is. . . difficult. You are one foot in each world.

I’m so grateful to the work of my amazing team who are supporting I, Malvolio in Winnipeg. Justin’s amazing work continues to be supported and facilitated by our amazing stage manager, Leah Borchert, and two outstanding associate producers, Reba Terlson and Lizzie Knowles. Audiences are so wonderful and generous - it is heartwarming to see texts or messages from friends who are seeing it, sharing their thoughts. It is powerful work, unlike a lot of theatre experiences I’ve even had myself, so it is somewhat terrifying and feels like a bit of hubris to try to bring it to others.

There are performances remaining February 2, 3 and 5, 6, 7. Tickets are still available. This is the last show I’ll have in Winnipeg for awhile, for sure. The last one was in 2017, and before that 2015 (when I lived there…)…so at this pace it could be 2023 before I bring another. I love bringing work to my hometown, the quirky, wonderful, supporting arts community that enabled and encouraged my nonsensical experiments. That made me feel like i could challenge attending RADA, and that I could bring unique work to Toronto. I hope you all can catch one of the last performances. If you’ve already seen it, thank you. Tell a friend.

Tickets are $15, or $12 if you are a student, unemployed, artist, senior — or if you also see our host company and producing partner The Keep Theatre’s Twelfth Night (conveniently scheduled at 7:30pm nightly, so you can come straight upstairs and see our I, Malolio!). Reserve by emailing tickets@impeltheatre.com

Also, check out a zillion other bits of Shakespeare this week - I personally adored Othello, (O)Phelia, and have heard amazing things about Queen Lear is Dead. Also it HURTS that I can’t see either Hamlet that is happening.

Justin Otto as Malvolio in I, Malvolio by Tim Crouch.
Photo by Leah Borchert, audience quote from Hannah Foulger.

(O)Phelia - Saucy Gal Productions @ RMTC ShakespeareFest

Leigh-Anne Kehler seems to step up to the task each year of the Master Playwright Festival, writing a thoughtful and well researched response to the playwright’s work. This year, she seems to have topped herself again, writing a 45 minute play expanding on the experiences of the two women in Hamlet - Ophelia, and Gertrude.

There are countless interpretations of Hamlet, and although some re-think the relationship of Hamlet to the women (or at their worst, conflate the two women into one), it is rare to see the relationship between these two women explored. Enter Kehler’s (O)Phelia, which is written brilliantly in verse, and provides insight into what may have transpired between the women that allowed Gertrude to have knowledge of Ophelia’s death, while also helping us to understand the motivations of these two women, whose choices may otherwise be easy to judge. The piece is performed thoughtfully and intelligently by Kehler and Melissa Langdon, whose Ophelia is fiery yet sensitive.

I strongly recommend checking out this new work. It deserves a bigger audience, and future productions.

Othello - Beau Theatre Company @ RMTC ShakespeareFest

Beau Theatre Company share Kevin Klassen’s razor sharp adaptation of Othello, tightening the story to a cast of 6 actors, and just the essentials. Klassen plays the villainous Iago, and is almost nonchalant in his scheming, which serves to underscore the tragedy beautifully. Ray Strachan’s Othello has a wonderful range of emotions, and Olivia Raine’s Desdemona is sweet and charming. An absolute standout is Haley Vincent’s Emilia, who in a smart choice is dressed to indicate she is one of the soldiers, but still Desdemona’s lady in waiting - enabling the sense of duty Emilia feels toward Desdemona to take on a new perspective.

Staged in Dalnavert’s visitors centre, director Brenda McLean creates a thrust space, and has action taking place all over the visible space as well as behind the audience at times, giving a depth to the experience. Subtle moments of direct address keep the audience engaged and complicit, while simple choices for actor movement and stillness created tension throughout the performance.

Overall a nice adaptation with some strong performances, and well worth adding to your ShakespeareFest list!

Romeo + Juliet @ RMTC ShakespeareFest - Pocket Frock Productions

I was thrilled to kick off my ShakespeareFest adventure with a local adaptation of Romeo & Juliet, from Winnipeg collective Pocket Frock. The adaptation is described as a “hot take” on the story, it felt like an R&J for the instagram generation.

Smart edits trimmed the production down to a tight 90 minutes; the audience are lit along with the actors for the majority of the time, as the company use the small studio space to great effect. Locations are malleable, and time expands and contracts with the young lovers. Some cleverly selected and then adapted pop songs further serve to create this feeling (and are performed beautifully by the multi-talented cast).

Many casting decisions are smart here, notably Jane Burpee, whose Friar Lawrence becomes a caring grandmother type, as well as Hera Nalam who delightfully inhabits young Romeo, perfectly capturing the tempestuous and highly emotional teen. By eliminating the majority of adult characters, this production served to underscore that these are just kids, who make impetuous and seemingly irrational decisions that have huge consequences.

There were some moments that could have been even more clearly created, in particular Romeo’s first meeting of Juliet, and the ongoing beef between Tybalt and Mercutio, however on the whole this was a smart adaptation and clever production.

Pinocchio @ Young People's Theatre

I don’t get to see TYA as much as I’d like to these days, now that I’m no longer teaching, and my daughter is no longer in the target audience. I had almost forgotten how magical these shows can be.

Sheila McCarthy’s production is pure joy; the new adaptation by Neil Bartram is a largely smart and funny musical; there are a few songs/scenes that I personally think could face the chopping block…but on the whole it is quite strong. The show moves at a formidable pace , and kept the room full of youngsters on a Saturday afternoon engaged. It is always a good sign to me when a young audience vocalize their engagement in a script, responding out loud to the things happening on stage — which happened in this show. Particularly fun were the conniving Fox and Cat, played beautifully by Joel Cumber and Arinea Hermans.

Julie Tomaino’s choreography deserves a special shout-out — it was high energy, and created beautiful movement to enliven the many locales that the story is told from.

The sets and costumes were the real stars here. Joanna Yu’s whimsical design had many moments of pure awe — from early scenes carving Pinocchio, to Pinocchio’s nose, to later scenes to create water and the inside of the whale. You could feel the sense of wonder that this inspired in the young audience (and honestly, in me too).

Finally, the Saturday performance I attended included a short talkback from the cast, which included them asking questions of the audience — a great way to begin a talkback and help engage the young audience who had just sat so quiet and engaged for 75 minutes!

I definitely recommend taking the young people in your life to see this magical show.

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel @ RMTC Winnipeg

I was completely privileged to get a sneak peek of this show in their previews, thanks to the generosity of director Sarah Garton Stanley. I feel truly fortunate to have been able to see it, as the company as a whole, and in particular Laura Olafson and Catherine Wreford, share in this production some of the most beautifully subtle work I have seen in a long time.

The story centres around Alison in three stages of her life, and her own understanding of her sexuality, her childhood, and her relationship with her father. This isn’t your typical musical fare, delving into the darkness of her father’s repressed sexuality, while she is grappling with her own feelings and learning how to express them. Laura Olafson plays Alison’s mom, and is heartbreaking as she fights to keep her children happy and family together. And Wreford is undeniable in her song Telephone Wire, where she wrestles with trying to talk to her father about her sexuality and his response.

Director Sarah Garton Stanley steers an excellent pace, manipulating the twists and turns in the story to full emotional effect for the audience, the highs and lows working in perfect balance to one another. There is a sense of breath throughout the production, yet it surges forward at an urgent pace. This is complemented by Hugh Conacher’s stunning lighting design.

I’m told the rest of the run is sold out, and this cast and crew so deserve that. I’m thrilled to see Winnipeg audiences embracing such a beautiful and challenging piece of theatre.

Sex and Sexability Cabaret - Sick & Twisted Theatre

I had the joy of happening to be visiting Winnipeg when Sick + Twisted were hosting their most recent cabaret installment, something I’ve sadly missed in previous iterations. The evening combines short works of a variety of styles, from stand up to mime to musical theatre, all organized around a theme. This time, it was Sex & Sexability, highlighting stories about interactions with, discoveries of, and challenges with sexuality.

Standouts for me were Adam Schwartz with his wonderfully dry humoured standup about dating with autism, and the hilarious Ophira Calof with her songs about love (including it happening for her EMT and Nurse, over her head - Literally). Calof was an absolute delight, one of those performers who you know from their first moment on stage will be astounding — and she did not disappoint. I also really enjoyed Andrea von WIchert’s monologue which came toward the end of the evening, focusing on the challenges of maintaining a relationship when one has mental illness and little interest in sex. The selection of pieces, and smooth transitions between scenes, along with seeing actors crop up in one another’s pieces, really helped provide a cohesive feel to the cabaret as well, a quality this style of event can lack.

Sick + Twisted are dedicated to showcasing the work of performers and writers with disabilities, and to creating spaces that are safe and welcoming for performers and audience members alike. In this instance, it included ASL interpretation for every scene, as well as audio description. Offering these sorts of supports is unfortunately rare in Canada, so it was refreshing and exciting to see them offered.

I definitely recommend checking out the next Sick + Twisted cabaret - and hopefully a show, too!

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.

Out of Order by Forced Entertainment @ Southbank Centre

As a follower of Forced Entertainment’s work through video streams and available online recordings, I was thrilled to learn that my time in London would overlap their short run of Out of Order at Southbank Centre. 

Chairs begin downstage in a line, appearing orderly, while a table sits upstage. The performance space is elevated several feet above the actual stage, with caverns around on all sides. This lasts approximately 30 seconds, before the 6 performers (3 men, 3 women, all wearing identical plaid suits, white shirts, and clown face) enter, and move them. From here, there is incessant movement; while the movement peaks and valleys, even the moments of rest and stillness are filled with the memory of movement. 

What follows is an ongoing, highly choreographed yet impulsive and appearing improvised set of games; the actors fight and chase, they play with balloons, and chairs. They lead and follow, repeat and repeat, even when they are visibly questioning the action. At times certain characters have the strength to resist - to sit outside and comment. But this is fleeting, and they are shortly again sucked into following. 

There are many layers, and none. Forced regularly do not impose a specific feeling or intention for how a piece should affect, but rather work in layered ideas, providing thoughts into the space, but no real answers, demanding the audience engage and fill in the blanks. At times we are overwhelmed with where to look, or at others pulled into the individual actions of one actor or another, and at yet others sitting, in silence, with our own thoughts. The simultaneous danger and inevitability of following along loomed loud for me in watching this work. 

This is Forced’s first piece without words. It is not silent, however; two songs underscore various aspects (again, in repetition), and the rhythm of the balloons, or horns, or boots, or chairs, or even actors breathing, make a compelling score. 

As a lovely bonus, the artistic director (Tim Etchells) and the 6 members of the company, shared their thoughts and answered questions in a 30+ minute Q&A following the show. It was exciting to hear some of my own interpretations of their work and ideas for how to engage audiences echoed in their approaches and intent. I’ve said this for years, but again…if you have the chance to see Forced Entertainment’s work in any capacity, do. 

Gross Domestic Product - Banksy in Croydon

Banksy’s public installation stunts are globally publicized events, and relatively rare. So when I learned that I would be in London when his latest was occurring in Croydon, I planned a day around it. Croydon is not a London tourist destination; it is far removed from the museums and theatres and pageantry of Westminster and the West End, and much more closely aligned to the real lives of real Londoners. Taking over a shop window on an otherwise unassuming corner in Croydon, Banksy’s latest work is ever political. Opposite the street market, with vendors selling trays of fruit for a pound, and shops of varying history. . . next to an enormous Primark and Waitrose and Slug and Lettuce poshy pub and a hip new Box Mall, but also empty storefronts and pound shops. The 5 windows of work display a variety of items that will actually be for sale — from empty paint cans and spray painted televisions, to welcome mats embroidered from the fabric of life jackets washed up on shores after boats of refugees met an untimely and tragic death. Disco balls made into police riot helmets. Stuffed animals lambasted or suffocated, and then mounted like hunting trophies. Each item is accompanied by a write up, as they would be in a gallery or online shop, sardonically describing the item and its intended value for the purchaser. Men dressed in beige trench coats and flat caps stand around the area, providing the attendee — many of whom didn’t look like they had been to Croydon or South London before — an image of safety and security, calling to mind images of friendly doormen at posh Regent or Oxford street department stores. People crowded around the windows, snapping photos, largely unaware of the street around them. 

The location was not chosen by accident. Framing this conspicuous relationship to consumerism in the context of gentrification underscores Banksy’s point. Several comments speak to the stealing of ideas, the absence of originality. Banksy has publicly stated that the installation is in response to a card company attempting to infringe on his ownership of the images and work, through exploitation of a loophope in copyright law. It may be this, but it also serves a larger purpose; to remind us that we are all, daily, a part of the capitalist system which not only enables this, but encourages consumption and comfort at the expense of others. 

[blank] by Alice Birch @ Donmar Warehouse

Alice Birch’s new play, [blank] focuses in on the experiences of women in the justice system, encountering it from a variety of angles. We see women with addiction issues, women facing abuse, children in challenging parental situations, women who have ruptured family relationship. We see women guards and officers, psychologists. Young children. Adult children.

The cast play multiple roles, and the stage becomes multiple spaces. What is stunning is how little the actors change scene to scene, all wearing dark trousers, a coloured top, and white trainers. While they change yet stay the same, the space is increasingly messy, bearing the remnants of what came before, but also deconstructed. As the space deconstructs, the use of video increases, capturing the images of these women and their trauma in time.

Evocative of Churchill’s Top Girls dinner party, there is a scene in the middle of the play where the actors are at a dinner party - kind, open, middle class, with posh dishes, and lots of wine. The party is all long-time friends except one, a new girlfriend, whose presence sparks discussion of misbehaved pasts, which quickly seep into the current time. Wine is consumed, then drugs, and suddenly these women who have introduced themselves as being on the professional side of the justice system are offending themselves. This scene’s most chilling moment is when the young daughter comes in, asks for water, and wine is poured out of a wine glass to give to her, cocaine still on the table. The stark differences of experience based on the class of these women versus the others is haunting. Birch demands we, the comfortable theatre audience, confront our comforts and lack of true efforts to help others.

As always, Birch’s use of language is exceptional - words are weapons from her pen, and in the mouths of these actors.

The only oddity, for me, was a break into song toward the middle - while the lyrics made sense, the choices of movements and performance style in this moment felt stilted and half-baked. For me, it was jolting, but not as jolting as I think it was intended to be.

Glass. Kill. Bluebeard. Imp. by Caryl Churchill @ Royal Court

Presented in a single evening, Churchill’s new quartet of plays at the Royal Court dig into the relationship between the stories we tell ourselves, and contemporary news. It is easy to simply view the plays as about stories alone - however this is to do a disservice to Churchill’s omnipresent political commentary pulsing through any of her work.

Glass is about a teen girl who is made of glass; she sits atop the mantlepiece amongst the other beautiful things, to protect her from the harshness of other youth. Her emotions are visible to others, and despite her family’s efforts to protect her, she is vulnerable once she connects with someone, who is also troubled. Perhaps it is because I am the mother of a teen, but this piece shouted for me about the dangers of trying too hard to protect our children from the realities of the world.

Kill is a classic Churchillian dark monologue. Told from the point of view of a Greek god who recounts the story of a family who murder and fight amongst themselves across generations, simultaneously recalling the founding stories of Western civilization rooted in violence, and the impact of generational trauma. He is joined on stage by a child who draws, and occasionally repeats his words; this simple inclusion underscores the relationship between how children learn to see the world and the stories they take in both intentionally and unintentionally.

Bluebeard begins with friends at a dinner party, gossiping about a mutual friend who has been discovered to have committed some crimes. These crimes are macabre in nature, and the discussion moves from the point where they distance themselves from this friend, to beginning to explain his behaviour, to where they have managed to justify it. In the post #MeToo moment, the play forces the audience to reckon with the moral gymnastics many people do in order to continue to be friends with someone or to enjoy their art.

Finally, Imp is the longest, and initially the most naturalistic of the four plays; two older cousins who live together entertain a niece and a young friend. The conversations are absurd in the way that most awkward extended family conversations can be; until it is revealed that the woman, Dot, believes to have an imp who does wishes captured in a bottle. Throughout the play the characters opinions of one another and of the related relationships oscillate, as they tell themselves stories to help understand their world. The introduction of the imp merely amplifies the focus on the fact that often we need stories, however fantastical, to get by.

The cast are outstanding, and director James MacDonald cleverly manages the tempo of the scripts perfectly - not only within themselves, but across the evening. The addition of circus performers between the first and second, and second and third plays proved ingenious - a necessary yet haunting sorbet which visually represented these same mental and moral gymnastics we all perform to keep on.

Now Is The Time To Say Nothing by Caroline Williams & Reem Karrsli @ Battersea Arts

We all sit in individual chairs, facing away from one another headphones on, staring at televisions. The room is dark and comfortable. Silence hugs us.

The TV tells us what to do; it filters images for us, gives us the headlines, and then pushes us beyond them. Who are the individuals affected? How are they affected? What is it like to live in a war zone, and then to choose to leave? What about those you leave behind?

It is easy for us to put war in a bucket, far away, distant. But when we are faced with the real humans impacted by it, you can’t turn away.

As the play continues, the TV guides us further, providing instruction, breaking us out of our individual nests and demanding connection. Acknowledging that sometimes we don’t have a choice, while still making the audience feel safe.

The construction of this experience is simple, but its impact lasting and powerful. See this if you can.