A clown show with some highly intelligent observations, Hansal and Geetal failed to meet its potential. The show had an interesting premise — clowns as children, who experience micro aggressions and colonial education through the lens of a school, where the wicked witch is personified by the teachers at the school who impose colonial thought and practice. Unfortunately, the show had too many ideas, and didn’t fully realize many of them, leaving the scenes and undercurrent feel slap dash and uneven. There was a significant reliance on audience participation in the show, however the production failed to set the expectations and rules for this participation, meaning that the first few attempts fell flat. While this did settle in later on, the scenes continued to feel like they were relying on the audience rather than guiding us somewhere. There is a nugget of something here, but it needs a lot of work before it sees its next audience.
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Vers @ Hen & Chickens Theatre Bar
Vers is a double bill of short plays performed by the same exceptional trio of actors.
The Dinner Scene is first; centred around a couple having dinner (who are interjected by a hilarious Chloe Taplin as the restaurant employee) whose conversation begins surface level, and as they dine dives deeper and deeper until they are having a deep-seeded argument about the fundamentals of respecting one another and the planet. The argument is funny and relatable as each demonstrates the extremes of contemporary middle class concerns, from the vegan offended that the boyfriend ordered pepperoni to the boyfriend offended that the partner would try to police their eating as someone recovering from an eating disorder. As the argument gets more subterranean, the play is interspersed with surreal moments of heightened text-free movement, signifying their underlying emotions and frustrations. While exceptionally well performed and rehearsed (the whip smart and rapid fire dialogue in particular, coupled with some brilliant comic timing) the play as a whole feels like a not quite finished idea. It begs for another round of dramaturgy, as there is really something in there.
The second play, Poofs with Guns, is a highly campy take on 50’s crime dramas set around the gay community in East London. The text is part silly crime drama, part reflective history, part mash up of audio clips, and is overall quite engaging. Again the performers are really strong; you can see in the design and direction the vision for what the “bigger” version of this production is. In particular, by positioning the story around 50’s gay culture, and using Polari in the dialogue, the production brings to light a piece of history not known by many in contemporary circles. I would have liked to see them go even further with the camp; rather than the light makeup we got for the 2 criminals, give us a full beat face, or even clown (as was in the promotional materials!) — because the moments when the production really leaned into the camp, it was fabulous.
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.
WEER - Natalie Palamides @ SOHO Theatre
The sheer delightful chaos of Natalie Palamides show is central to its success. In a time when many shows aim to be polished and perfect, Palamides gives us rough around the edges and spiky. Centered around a couple and their downfall, with flashbacks to their meet cute, and all underscored by late 90’s music, the show has all the storyline makings of a meet-cute based rom-com from the period. However Palamides turns this on its head in many ways, most notably by playing both characters. And not in the way most solo shows do, but rather fully embodied through voice, movement and COSTUME across half of her body. The choreography to achieve this is nothing short of outstanding, and I regularly found myself marvelling at the stamina needed to perform this.
This is not the show for everyone - spiky jabs at late 90’s bro culture and the expectations on young women from a 2024 lens might be a bit much for some, but for me it is this clown-inspired means of taking the old rom-com formula to task while still revelling in its delights that make it exceptional.
This was my first of Natalie’s shows to see live, and it will not be my last.
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.