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Kendra Jones

director . writer . dramaturg . instructor
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impel theatre blog

Burgeoning academic.
Creator of things to read & experience. Thinks too much.
Analyzes everything. 

Reviews are meant to catalogue, interrogate, and challenge what I see.

All opinions are just that -- opinions. 

Pip Dwyer, Kaitlin Race, Jennifer Dysart McEwan in Watching Glory Die by Judith Thompson, directed by Kendra JonesPhoto by John Gundy

Pip Dwyer, Kaitlin Race, Jennifer Dysart McEwan in Watching Glory Die by Judith Thompson, directed by Kendra Jones

Photo by John Gundy


Sunny days ☀️
Happy Mother’s Day, Canadians 

#anarchyintheuk
Tangled.

Found in Commercial Street.
#london #spitalfields #streetart
Happy birthday @bonks21 ! If these pictures don’t exemplify our relationship, nothing does. Here’s to this summer’s European adventure which trades Scottish mountains for Parisian staircases.
❤️

Found in High Holborn, London
Just hanging out. 

Found in Commercial Street. 

#london #eastlondon #wheatpaste #streetart
Outside David Garrick’s house, on the banks of the Thames; his Temple to Shakespeare.

#hampton #temple #shakespeare
Saw Hate Radio at @batterseaartscentre - thought some things. You can read them on the blog, link in bio.

#theatre #archive #review #milorau #bac
Saw Book of Mormon the other week. Thought some things. You can read them on the blog- link in bio

📸: Prince of Wales Theatre ceiling
Our appetite and capacity to digest fragmented narrative is expanding.

@jordan.tannahill - Theatre of the Unimpressed 

#reading #theatre #mediums #mediation #experiences

tweets

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    Jul 14, 2022, 3:22 AM
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    Jul 5, 2022, 2:39 AM
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Photo by Janice Shum

Photo by Janice Shum

Alice and the World We Live In by Alex Haber @ FemFest 2020

September 26, 2020

Due to COVID, Sarasvati are offering many of their productions digitally via live stream as well as with limited in-person seating. I viewed this live-streamed - there is one more performance Sept 26.

This was initially planned as a full production, indoors in a theatre, however when COVID meant that was not possible, Sarasvati reworked the concept for the show to be a staged reading outdoors, using simple lighting, sound, and representative design. The actors wore mics, which allowed of course for the live stream audio pickup, but also for the integration of sound design and effects on the live voices.

Elena Anciro and Ray Strachan had the challenging task of portraying intense love and loss, while not coming close together — speaking to one another from the tops of three picnic tables set apart from one another. Their connection is believable and meaningful, despite the physical distance — their early meeting scenes charming, and the flashbacks to arguments convincing.

The script hops around in time, which at first is challenging to follow - there is a crisis, there is a meet-cute (which repeats and re-shapes nicely) and there is the current moment. These intersperse through the script, hopping in time, which in a reading scenario is difficult. At times it felt the script would have benefited from more clarity on this front; the most effective scenes were the ones where they stayed in place for longer, and where the blend into a new time was a subtle continuation of the conversation rather than a cinematic hard cut. This may have also benefited the overall pace of the script, which began to feel less nuanced around the middle section.

Production-wise, it was nice to see the use of a mix of camera angles for the live stream. A limitation, of course, was that the harsh lighting for an outdoor production made it difficult to see the actors faces at times. Similarly, early introductions of sound effects on actors were a challenge to discern whether this was a poor connection, or an intentional design aspect. All in all, this raised questions for me (in a good way) about how to stage work for in-person and filmed streaming simultaneously, and appropriately leverage the mediums.

Tags: FemFest, Theatre, Live Stream, live theatre, Winnipeg
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My Arm - Tim Crouch @ Shedinburgh

September 23, 2020

I watched this via Shedinburgh, the online Edinburgh Festival event, in August 2020. This is a very tardy blog.

Having seen this brilliant play live, performed by Tim himself, at Harbourfront Centre in Toronto a few years ago, and knowing first hand the role that interaction with the audience plays, I was intrigued to see how Tim would adapt to the live Zoom performance. The play requires audience members to share objects — this sharing is integral to the story of art and ownership and permission that unfolds — so key to the success of the play. Audience members were invited to share a photo of an object, rather than the object itself, ahead of the performance — from which Tim selected and showed the images on screen in moments where the objects themselves may have been handled.

Thinking about images and the lack of control we have of images that are shared over the internet, this change was profound — an innocently shared photo became something else, something you may or may not have liked it to represent. Striking in these times.

Beyond this, of course Tim is an engaging storyteller - captivating in his manner and pacing. The staged version already leveraged video and this was not lost in the Zoom performance. Frankly, this adaptation presented new and unique thoughts about the script and story, and is a brilliant example to other theatre makers of how to use the limitations of the medium to our advantage. Live and real yet also recorded and distanced.

Magical stuff.

Tags: theatre, Zoom Theatre, Virtual Theatre, Live Stream, Shedinburgh, Edinburgh Festival, Tim Crouch, My Arm
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What Happens To You, Happens To Me by Susanna Fournier - Canadian Stage

July 26, 2020

This is a free audio experience you can listen to here, until August 1, 2020.

This fresh new isolation-inspired audio play from Susanna Fournier is an exploration of connection, of storytelling, of collaboration. We hear one voice (the delightful Kristen Thomson) inviting us to listen and connect with her. I listened to the audio-only version (there is also a version with video images if you prefer), and spent the approximately 16 minutes thinking through questions of time and hope, and more importantly, what comes next.

The piece asks audiences to engage with it, although the parameters of this are unclear. Many questions are asked, divided into chapters, but really it is the final question that is pressing and holds urgency.

Definitely worth checking out before it is gone.

Tags: Canadian Theatre, Canadian Stage, new writing, new play, Audio Plays, installation, interactive theatre
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Ritual - Podcast Plays from Dirty Protest Theatre & National Theatre Wales

July 17, 2020

Ritual is a series of 3 audio plays curated by Dirty Protest Theatre in Wales, with National Theatre Wales. You can listen to them via your favourite podcast service, details and links here.

I listened to these in order. In their materials, Dirty Protest indicate that their intent is for us to listen while we do our daily ritual - the laundry, the washing up, exercise - so I took them with me for some daily tasks.

Soaring by Hefin Robinson tells the story of two “penpals” who communicate with one another at the edge of the millennium, by mailing recorded tapes. A younger man and an older woman, on opposite parts of the country, communicate back and forth, reaching an intimacy between them despite being strangers, as they confess to one another, and work out their personal challenges. The story is captivating; I listened while out for a walk, and found myself completely immersed in the tension of the piece.

Double Drop by Lisa Jên Brown is the story of a young girl, wrestling with her own desire to be herself in the 90’s rave scene counterculture, yet finding her own actions at conflict with this desire to distance herself from her family’s reputation. What is really exciting about this piece is the pace at which it moves, and the way the beautiful compositions by 9Bloc drive the play forward. I listened to this one while out shopping, and found my own pace increasing with the intensity of the lead character, Esmi’s, energy and concern.

Unbound by Remy Beasly, focuses on two women. Funnily enough, although I listened to this one doing the least activity — sitting on my balcony enjoying a sunset — I somehow remember the least about the words and the story. That isn’t to say it wasn’t interesting, but something in the rhythm of the women’s conversation, the use of sound, lulled me into just thinking about that, and not the words or what was happening to the characters. It almost felt like I was overhearing a conversation nearby.

The trio of plays were recorded in the actor’s homes, and then edited together. The whole series is directed by Catherine Paskell. They are well worth taking a little time to check out, as the sound design and performances are fantastic, and the stories, especially Soaring, seem to mirror our own moment of separation from one another.

Tags: theatre, Audio Plays, National Theatre Wales, Ritual, new play, new writing, Dirty Protest Theatre
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Les Blancs by Lorraine Hansberry - National Theatre [Recording - 2016]

July 06, 2020

I watched this in recording via the National Theatre archive. You can watch it here until July 9.

Although this production was performed in 2016, the positioning of the story by director Yael Farber, the musical choices, every aspect of this production feels like it could have been conceived last week. The set is a skeleton of a house, long and thin, which turns on the revolve. We see through any artifice of this building, as Hansberry’s script and Farber’s searing direction tears away any artifice of these characters, particularly the white inhabitants and perpetrators of the mission.

The story is layered and complex; as time passes, our initial impressions of the characters and their relationships crumble to reveal what each character really is. Farber weaves music through the script, both in live representation via the women who walk in a procession across the stage multiple times, and also from offstage. Even early on, this music rings true and causes us to identify the hollowness of the words and actions of the white colonizers.

The irony of the American journalist coming in to ask questions, challenging what he sees and being confronted by the Africans about the racism rampant in his own country, is even more resonant than could have been anticipated, it seems.

The pace at which this production moves makes it feel like boulder tumbling down a steep hill. It picks up speed, that something terrible is coming feels inevitable and visible, yet we don’t know what. When that thing comes, it is a shock - and the space, the air that follows, feels noxious.

Please make time to watch this.

Tags: theatre, recording, National Theatre, Lorraine Hansberry, review
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Chekhov's First Play - Dead Centre [Recorded - 2018]

June 27, 2020

I watched this in recording, from a 2018 performance in Dublin. Unfortunately it was a limited time, but follow Dead Centre in case they make it available again.

While it is performed live, the audience are provided headsets to listen; this is explained at the onset by the director, who tells us he wants to explain the symbolism and meaning of the production, which can be lost in Chekhov for modern audiences. The audience dutifully put their headphones on, and hear the director’s voice in their ear; first explaining things about Chekhov and the play, but shortly also critiquing the actors, explaining cuts, or complaining of errors. Just at the moment this begins to feel self indulgent, the set begins to fall apart (at one point a literal wrecking ball smashes bits) and the Chekhov that the director had tried so diligently to explain to us has itself fallen apart. We are left with snippets, moments, symbols, the precise opposite of the naturalism so often aligned with Chekhov’s writing, and so much clearer as a result.

I don’t want to give too much away, so won’t say much more, other than to offer a question regarding the audience member who is physically brought into the performance. Clearly this individual is pre-selected and receiving their instruction in a special headset — but what else is different about this individual’s experience? And how is their agency and willingness to be involved to such a degree mediated? Not knowing this, I was concerned about their opportunity to opt-in, to give consent to participate in this manner. Has anyone declined?

This was a really unique production which asks a lot of questions of its audience and material - but did leave me with some. That said, well worth seeing if you have the chance.

Tags: Chekhov, Dead Centre, review, theatre, Audio Plays, experimental theatre, recording
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Small Island adapted by Helen Edmundson - National Theatre [recorded 2019]

June 21, 2020

I watched the recording of the 2019 production via The National Theatre here - you can too until June 25.

First things first; Leah Harvey is an absolutely charming performer. Without question, her liveliness and tenacity propel this story, and demand our attention. This is a truly outstanding feat, considering the size of the production (40 actors!! The Olivier!!!) and a stunning visual design, accompanied by strong ensemble performances. Somehow Harvey manages to sparkle through it all, the glint in her eye or the pain she is feeling superseding every ounce of the highly impressive stagecraft going on around her.

On the whole, the movement of this production - the people, objects, everything - was fluid and captivating. Rooms merging in and out of one another, spaces transforming before our eyes.

The play tells one story of the Windrush generation, Black Jamaicans who moved to the UK in the post-war period, sold the story of a better life, better opportunities — and met with racism and prejudice that persists in today. The story itself, adapted from Andrea Levy’s epic novel, is compelling, insightful, and heartbreaking. It is rare that an adaptation fulfils, and yet makes me hungry to read the original — I immediately put the book on my “to read” list.

The magnitude of this story, the scope and breadth of it, were beautifully apparent throughout the production. While Small Island focuses on 4 key individuals and their journeys, the overall feeling - with a largely empty stage filled with mapped projections, bodies, shadows, reminds us that this is just one storyline of hundreds.

Try to catch this one if you can.

Tags: Small Island, National Theatre, recording, Windrush, adaptations, new writing, new play, NT Live
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Pass Over by Antoinette Nwandu - Recorded @ Steppenwolf, Chicago

June 15, 2020

I watched this on Amazon Prime, after the stage production @ Steppenwolf Theatre Chicago was recorded by Spike Lee and released for viewing. This was recorded in 2017.

Spike Lee sets up the recording of this play beautifully, putting it in the framed context of a group of people travelling by bus, from the neighbourhood where the play takes place, to the theatre. Immediately it is a reminder of the proximity and distance between these two worlds. Danya Taymor’s production gives Antoinette Nwandu’s words space to play. The set (by Wilson Chin) is sparse, wide, dim - yet littered with objects. In this space, the empty street corner, we meet two young men, trapped and isolated, yet surrounded by reminders of the outside world, whether through the objects on the stage, the buzzing streetlamp to indicate day or night, or the more confrontational sounds of gunshots. Despite these reminders, the pair dream and plan, aiming to find a way to a new life. They want more but are aware of the challenges of this world — anxious to start and yet wholly unable to do so. Frozen in their moment.

This is interrupted, however, when the white character arrives - first reflective of seemingly well-intentioned white liberals, careful to choose their words, but ultimately, when it comes down to it, seeking to retain his power and therefore the subjugated position of the two black men. The air itself seemed to change when he entered — the reactions of the two more guarded, more careful, and the possibility of danger more imminent than when bullet sounds threw the pair to the ground. When he leaves, nothing is the same again. Later interactions become increasingly violent — the next white character who enters is a police officer, whose racism is overt, but somehow less sinister than that of the well-intentioned liberal. The two white characters keeping the same name, and are played by the same actor. The elbow of oppression present in all white faces we see on the stage, no matter their stated intentions.

Pass Over weaves together a re-think of Beckett’s Waiting for Godot with biblical imagery, and a bold depiction of the true state of power and racism in today’s world. Despite movement forward, ultimately this story ends worse than it began, and with power in the same place. This was written in response to Trayvon Martin’s death, but could easily have been about the events of the past few weeks.

The manner in which Lee films the stage production makes you feel as if you are a fourth, silent character, sitting behind the street lamp. We are there, we are bearing witness, yet we sit there and do nothing. The complicity is a palpable call to action.

Tags: Steppenwolf, Antoinette Nwandu, review, recording, theatre, plays, new writing
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Mother Courage And Her Children - Bertolt Brecht @ Berliner Ensemble [Recorded 1957]

May 18, 2020

I watched this in recording here, courtesy of the Berliner Ensemble. You can view it until May 21.

There is a pace about this production, right off the top, which feels aggressive, forceful, necessary. Supported by a revolve (I’m told, run by de-commissioned Soviet tank wheels), pulling an enormous wagon across the stage, Mother Courage and her Children race to. . . to what? Immediately the big questions of the play are apparent. What are they doing? Why? What purpose does it serve?

From here, as each son leaves, as tragedy befalls Kattrin, as Courage’s life falls apart, yet she keeps pressing on, the pace slows, ever so subtly. Hints of the slowness emerge in Weigel’s silent scream, or other moments, yet she presses on. Yet by time we reach the final moments of Weigel, alone on stage with her cart, slowly preparing to press on again, we are deeply aware of the weight of these things on this woman. The weight of war, of children, of responsibility, of death. . all visible on her shoulders as she picks up the wagon and begins to pull. It is excruciating to watch her circle the stage before exiting.

It was an utter treat to see Brecht’s own interpretation of this material. The manipulation of our sense of time and what time does to these characters was notable; similarly, my own endurance as a viewer was tested. At just under 3 hours, the production challenged me to sit, to watch, to wait. The contradiction between characters moving slowly and those moving quickly, the interspersed songs, the titles and running text between scenes— all caused me to be aware of the artifice, yet Weigel’s (and other) performance was so visceral. The conflict of feeling empathy toward her, and anger toward the system she perpetuates and profits from was palpable.

It is worth noting that this is in German, with no subtitles. Honestly, you don’t need them. Watch and enjoy.

Tags: Brecht, theatre, recording, thoughts, archive, Berliner Ensemble
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Caretaker - Hester Chillingworth @ Royal Court

May 17, 2020

You can view Hester Chillingworth’s installation Caretaker here, for as long as the Royal Court is closed due to COVID.

I really love the stillness of this installation from Hester Chillingworth; a camera is positioned facing the Royal Court’s Jerwood stage, which was set for the next day’s performance of Shoe Lady by E.V. Crowe, when London theatres were closed due to COVID. I’ve visited this a few times now, and there are subtle changes over time. The notes indicate there are occasional audio messages, though I’ve not heard any.

The peacefulness of an empty theatre is something non-theatre people are unlikely to experience. The space, while empty, feels resonant with life, the echoes of the moments that have happened there before. It is an extremely comforting space for me, the empty theatre. It demands nothing, but is steeped in possibility, which is really what we need right now.

Take a moment to pop in if you can.

Tags: installation, Royal Court, theatre, empty stages
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Split Britches: The True Story - Split Britches [Recorded 1984]

May 16, 2020

I watched this in recording via the Split Britches archive - available here.

It is so exciting to get to reach back in theatre history archives and see work from moments in time which create the trajectory on which my own work rests. Womens stories on stage, non-drama driven story, the mundane and every day presented on stage — these are all present. The Staging is reflective of a slide show, quick blackouts, choreographed minute movements between, reminding us of the artifice of presentation. Scenes repeat and circle back, seemingly static, yet things change.

I also loved the recording itself; it zooms in on small moments that may or may not be related to the speaking, allows the speaker to walk off screen while focusing on another character’s reactions. In the same way that a viewer’s eye in the theatre may linger elsewhere, this recording encourages us to acknowledge that, and provides space for this mental wandering. It is a reminder that the words are only a part of what matters — but rather that each minute detail makes up the whole.

A really wonderful piece to view for those whose work lingers in feminist ways of storytelling, to remind us of where we have come from.

Tags: Split Britches, Feminist Theatre, performance art, theatre, recording
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Sea Wall by Simon Stephens [Recorded 2012]

May 14, 2020

I watched this in recording - it is available here until May 18 for free, or to purchase via www.seawallandrewscott.com

Quarantine is confronting me with many uncanny encounters with scripts I know inside out, as performed in their first production, which due to living in the hinterland, did not get to see. In 2015, I co-directed the Canadian premiere of Sea Wall, featuring the brilliant Rodrigo Beilfuss. I adore Simon’s writing in general, and in particular in this script. It’s powerful imagery, it’s subtle, wave-like rhythms that wash over Alex and the listener, mirroring the way grief creeps in and out of our consciousness.

I had not before seen Andrew Scott’s performance of it. Filmed after the show’s runs in London and Edinburgh, in an empty photography studio, this version of Sea Wall is wonderfully static and contained. Although Andrew moves about the space, the vantage point remains still, fixed. He becomes blurred at times, a beautiful subtlety in the recording which underscores the Alex’s feelings (and our own) of being completely subsumed by the tragedy of the dramatic moment.

One of the things I love best about this script is that although it is extremely active — he is working through his grief — it is also still. All of the action, all of the tension, occurs off stage (in fact, in the past) and rather than seeing things happen, we witness a man dealing with the fall-out of those occurrences, wrestling with his past and what it means for his future. Things that were said. Events that occurred. Loss.

Andrew Scott’s performance is thoughtful, present, and simple. The rawness of the thought process as he works through the events, builds and weaves this story, are breathtaking.

This is some of the finest writing you’ll find, performed to perfection.

I can’t help but compare it to our own interpretation; ours would have likened better, I assume, to the stage presentations in London or Edinburgh, in a small, stuffy, simply lit space. Just an actor, an audience, and this story. One thing that, for me, the recorded version is missing is the collective gasp of realization, the moment when the shoe drops (of what the hell he is even talking about) just over two thirds in. In a room with about 35 other people, the power of that moment literally sucked the oxygen out of the room. You could feel the collective gasp and unwillingness to exhale. The audience completely captivated by this moment, this story - unsure of how to act. Perhaps it is because I watched it with my family (who of course had seen it) but I missed that. That moment, that unwillingness to exhale, as exhalation on the part of the audience is an act of complicity, of needing to see where this story ends, despite already knowing deep down what comes next.

That is the magic of the collective experience.

Tags: theatre, Sea Wall, Simon Stephens, Andrew Scott, review, recording
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End Meeting For All - Forced Entertainment

May 10, 2020

I watched this in recording. You can watch Part 1 here. You can watch Part 2 here. Both are available until June, and Part 3 airs May 12.

Disjointed. Unfocused. Overwhelming.

Forced Entertainment’s End Meeting For All series are improvised public group calls between company members isolated in their homes. Each begins abruptly, and ends abruptly, yet despite the improvisational nature, a structure appears. People ignore others in the call. People get distracted and wander away. People remain deeply focused on a single object or question to the point of irritation. Technology fails (or does it?).

This reflection of our time, when interaction with our closest friends, colleagues, and family members is largely through the blue-white glare of a computer monitor, is stunning. Forced create a piece of performance that is at once anti-performance, and high-performance. We are all living in this recognizable yet utterly foreign version of our world. It is funny, it is sad, it is at times bleak.

This is theatre for isolated times.

Tags: review, new work, fail, failure, performance, forced entertainment, improv, performance art, experimental theatre
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Anatomy of a Suicide by Alice Birch [recorded 2017 - SchauSpielHaus]

May 05, 2020

I watched this in recording here - although this production isn’t up any longer, there are more great productions to see.

Alice Birch’s script traces three generations of women over top of one another, through similar moments in their lives. The three timelines occur concurrently, with single conversations existing within each, yet also across - with a response in one timeline seeming to call to a question in another, across decades. Choosing to position the three women in claustrophobic columns, each with their own upstage door, no walls yet feeling clearly they could not leave, in chronological order left to right (from audience view) the matriarch is positioned as having the most power, however as we see, it is the youngest who acts upon her power, where her mother and grandmother succumbed to mental illness.

Alex Eales’ set makes each woman’s room feel like her prison cell, and Katie Mitchell’s direction, keeping the three on stage for the duration, including costume changes which are choreographed and lit as the women stand there like paper dolls awaiting their new outfit. It seems to imply the that each is imprisoned, contained, controlled - almost devoid of the capacity for choice. Strangely, not realizing this was the same designer who did Katie’s Fraulein Julie, this set did make me think of that production as well.

What wasn’t perfectly clear was how and why the youngest is different, until the final moments - deviation from the same choreography and rhythm may have helped us see this capacity to break the cycle, imply its possibility. I wonder whether this could have been baked subliminally into that choreography.

Otherwise, this was a stunning production of an unbelievably challenging text. The rhythm and technique required, while balancing a delightful liveness and action, even in moments where the actor must technically pause for another line, while maintaining intent, was beautiful and an absolute treat to watch.

This was a re-mount of the same production, but with a German cast. I’d be very curious to see the English cast version (Royal Court) as well.

Tags: Katie Mitchell, SchauspielHaus, recording, review, Alice Birch, new writing, Royal Court
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The Complete Deaths by Tim Crouch & Spymonkey [Recorded 2016 @ Shoreditch Town Hall]

April 21, 2020

I watched this in recording via Spymonkey’s Vimeo account - you can watch it here until April 25. (if it asks for a login, just create a vimeo account, and it will credit you the amount). Note: there are 2 parts.

This is what I needed in isolation. Wild, silly, irreverent, a bit mad. This show does…yes…the complete deaths. All of the onstage deaths in Shakespeare’s plays, acted out in various styles by the company, through a debate over what kind of work they are making. Using the aid of video cameras and projection, musical instruments, and a zillion props, the company make light of the darkness in the plays, showing the strangeness and absurdity of the plays in their most serious moments.

This is fun. it is irreverent. I don’t honestly know what else to say, other than watch it. You will laugh out loud. You will wonder what is going on. And you’ll enjoy it.

Tags: theatre, review, Tim Crouch, Comedy, recording
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Endless

I was commissioned by Convergence Theatre to write a piece inspired by phone calls and messages people were invited to share. . . their COVID-confessions. What follows below is original writing, by me, in response to two of those confessions.

Endless - A meditation on isolation, commissioned by Convergence Theatre

April 13, 2020

A meditation on isolation

By Kendra Jones, commissioned by Convergence Theatre


She sits on her sofa. Resisting the temptation to open her laptop again, to scroll again, to get sucked in to the endless sea of images. News clips, photos of someone’s kid. Memes. So many fucking memes. 


  /Facebook ding. 


Ignore it.                                          Ignore it. 





Her mind drifts. . . she catches her reflection in the window.
She smiles.
She wonders, is that weird? 
Smiling at yourself?
At your reflection?                                                                   The vanity. 


  /Skype sound.


With the alarming digital noise now looping, far too loud into her living room, she realizes she hasn’t spoken to another person in three days. Like actually spoken words aloud. Her cat doesn’t count. Should she answer? 


She pauses. 





On the one hand, it would be lovely to see someone, even digitally. 

To hear someone breathe. 

To see them smile. 





On the other hand, she acknowledges quietly, in her mind, that she hasn’t showered in those three days either. Her voice will probably be raspy from non-use, then she’ll have to explain that she isn’t sick. 


Might just be easier to. . . 


  /Skype sound stops. 












There was this time. . .  back, before. . . whatever this is. . . she was on her way to work. She took an unusual route that morning. As she transferred from the streetcar to the subway, she walked past a few homeless people sitting on the ground. She smiled if they caught her eye, feeling sheepish for never carrying change or a granola bar in her bag to offer, suddenly self conscious of her privilege. As she turned the corner, a woman looked at her with eyes that pierced into her soul, immediately seeing this self consciousness, and said aloud, “she knows what it means to dress herself in black”. That sentence rang through her head the rest of that day. 

It wasn’t upsetting. It was nice. 

Almost comforting, really.

To be seen so clearly, so quickly. 


It is hard for her not to wonder whether that will ever happen again. . .
Will we ever go back to real interactions? 


Will it ever be comfortable to look someone in the eye again? 

To brush up against them by accident, or sit back to back in a crowded cafe?



Will we ever sit in theatres or on transit, near to one another, to strangers again? 



She wants to believe we will; that this forced only-online time will make us value real interaction more. Value closeness to those we love. To strangers. That if this ever ends, she won’t see couples on dates in restaurants looking at their phones, but instead looking at each other. Really seeing one another, deeply, honestly. 






The weight of unproductivity sits on her shoulders as she realizes she is scrolling again. 

                                             

                  She scrolls and scrolls. 





How are there people thriving in this time?

Tags: Convergence Theatre, COVID, commission, new writing, poetry, new work
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The Three Sisters - Red Torch Theatre (recording - via Stage Russia HD)

April 06, 2020

I watched this via Stage Russia HD, however it was available there only for a limited time. It is also available (For a fee) via Digital Theatre subscriptions.

I first read about this production last year, when researching Timofey Kulyabin as his production of Ivanov was on at Barbican during a visit. You can read my thoughts on that production here. His production of The Three Sisters is almost entirely non-vocalized; the characters, aside from Ferapont, speak in sign language. This does not mean it is silent, however. The production has a detailed score that creeps on you. At first it is high heels clicking on the floor, or floor boards creaking. It is characters playing a game in the next room, or Andrij practicing the violin. Toys squeaking, dishes clanking, clocks ticking - all the sounds of life. This score swells and rescinds magically as the story goes on.

The set enables us to see all the rooms of the house at once - a large open space, with smaller rooms set up and demarcated using lines on the floor, like taping out a set, except that it doesn’t grow upward. These lines do stretch upward in the imaginations of the actors, however, who peek around walls, and behave as if they are there. Thus while a scene may be occurring in one area, wordless, the sounds from another room emphasize, engage, and intentionally distract from what is at play. These sounds make the relationships between the characters clearer than they have ever been.

We see Natasha fretting and primping while Masha broods. We see Irina lamenting her boredom with the choices available to her, while we see servants working around her.

The production is placed now, but also not-now. Characters receive messages on smartphones, and these devices are even used to light an entire set of scenes after the fire, the eerie blue glow of digital interaction a haunting reminder that our own times are not so far departed from those of turn-of-the-twentieth Russia.

The boredom, the excess…these were all too prescient as we sit here in our collective spaces. So many of us with the privilege of boredom, of devices to be bored of, while those less fortunate must go out and work in these dangerous times, risking their lives to deliver us sushi or mcdonalds or groceries in the comfort of our homes, so WE don’t have to go out.

Most striking were the moments, well chosen by Kulyabin, where the movement and sound stopped entirely, and we saw the characters just sit and wait, only the sound of a ticking clock to accompany them. The show was truly striking, comfortably holding your attention despite its 4 hour running time. The time flew by. Yet didn’t.

Tags: Theatre, Red Torch Theatre, Stage Russia HD, Timofey Kulyabin, theatre, recording, review
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Richard III - Schaubuhne Berlin (recording)

April 04, 2020

I watched this recording of the performance via the Schaubühne Berlin website; they are making one show per day available, find them here.

This blog is quickly devolving into a Lars Eidinger/Thomas Ostermeier fan account, and I’m not sad about it. I skipped the live stream of Hamlet, having seen it live in 2012 at Barbican, in favour of seeing another interpretation, their Richard III. It did not disappoint.

This is wild Shakespeare. Messy, beautiful, visually poetic Shakespeare where the extremity and heightened images and physicality match the height of the language. Every time I watch a German production of Shakespeare, I’m reminded of how safe the work here in Canada and in the UK can be. How Bardolatry has superseded everything else; how if you do something other than stand and speak the words, somehow you are not “doing Shakespeare”. These productions are here to remind us that isn’t the case, nor is it necessary.

The industrial nature of the set, mashing images of high society ballgowns and suits with German club culture, and a warehouse aesthetic underscore how Richard is different from those around him. This Richard is plainly manipulative; we see the props and prosthetics that create his difference as items clearly clipped on to him. We see him manipulating his physical appearance, and using that to manipulate those around him. His early scene with Anne isn’t him seducing her but rather deploying his vulnerability into making her feel responsible for him - a choice which for me actually helps to rationalize Anne’s choice to marry him (especially when viewed from a modern context).

Finally, by re-framing Richard as a manipulative sociopath rather than a power hungry wannabe leader, the final battle scene re-positioned as occurring entirely in his mind, we simultaneously feel pity and revulsion for this terrible self-interested human.

The use of sound design and projected visuals on top of the industrial space further created a sense of the scale of this world. This is magnificent, huge, epic Shakespeare.

Tags: Schaubuhne, Ostermeier, shakespeare, review, thoughts, recording
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Cyprus Avenue by David Ireland - The Royal Court (recorded 2017)

March 30, 2020

I watched this in recording from the 2017 Royal Court production. You can watch it here until April 24.

This is a gut punch of a play. Funny, shocking, dark, David Ireland examines personal identity and how it is deeply intertwined with a sense of where you are from. The story focuses on Eric, an older male who grew up in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, whose very identity is defined by them. He actively defines as NOT Irish, as NOT Fenian, while struggling with a new world where those older tensions are relaxed. It is a meditation on masculinity, on systemic and inherited violence.

Vicky Featherstone’s direction surprises, managing the pace of the story and time shifts in a way that creates jarring moments. We are lulled into believing we’re in one place then quickly jolted to another. The square, white playing space is increasingly messy as the play goes on and the tension escalates, leaving a clear and visible mark, representative of the invisible marks the violence of his youth has left on Eric.

The ensemble are uniformly strong, each bringing a balance to surround Stephen Rea’s riveting and powerful performance. The miniscule and momentary shifts in his performance are truly stunning.

I won’t say more for risk of revealing the surprises in the text. Just watch.

Tags: Royal Court, review, recording, Vicky Featherstone
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Hedda Gabler - Schaubuhne Berlin (recorded)

March 28, 2020

I watched this streamed from the Schaubuhne website. You can watch it here until late in the evening Mar 28.

I won’t lie; i’ve been obsessed with this production purely based on still photos and written reviews for approximately 6 years. So when I learned that Schaubuhne were offering it in their nightly streaming during the theatre’s closure, I blocked the day.

It did not disappoint.

Initially, Jan Pappelbaum’s striking and majestic design strikes you. The sheer opulence and glamorous veneer of the Tesman house is magnificent. The walls rain. The apartment, although open and airy, feels claustrophobic, emphasized by the revolve, and the mirror positioned above the stage, so that even when a character is in another room, they are visible. This world is inescapable. Stifling. Director Thomas Ostermeier has laid his trap.

Lars Eidinger’s Tesman is bumbling and sweet, clearly enamoured with Hedda, who is visibly disgusted by him. The fact that she is so, just contributes to her petulance. She is like a tempestuous teenager, whom everyone is simply trying not to set off, while infantilizing her. Katharina Schüttler is magnetic. Even moping around in pyjamas, her playful yet sadistic nature is at once intimidating and sexy.

The balance of the other two men in her life - Jörg Hartman’s slimy smooth and manipulative Brack, and Kay Bartholomaus Schulz’s intellectually tortured Lovbørg - creates this triangle in a manner clearer to me than I’ve ever seen before. Each of these men, on some level, offers a piece of what Hedda wants, but ultimately it is the intellectual stimulation that only Lovbørg can offer, which she wants but is not on offer to her.

The violence in the script, often forgotten or downplayed, is front and centre. In spite of the beautiful surroundings and beautiful people, these are ugly, terrible humans. Humans driven by base desires and willing to manipulate to get what they want. Even Tesman isn’t off the hook in Ostermeier’s view.

It is truly a mark of masterful direction when a play that I know inside out, can still surprise me, and make me feel anxious in anticipation of what is going to happen next. Some of the moments created by Ostermeier in the final third of the play create such a beautifully intense tension that it is impossible to look away, even when it is all you want to do.

The final moments, when life goes on, and Hedda has died, where we’re forced to watch, and continue to watch, were gut wrenching as an audience member, yet as a director made me giddy with joy.

Tags: Ostermeier, Schaubuhne, review, archive, recording, theatre
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