’5′-5,6,7 plus wheel
Menagerie Theatre Company’s season of short plays at The Junction, Cambridge.
Feedback to the Artistic Director – an open letter.
Dear Paul,
Good to put a friendly, gangly, bespectacled body and face to the name. I was greatly impressed when, last week, you responded so quickly to my e-mail proposing a Menagerie revival of Apart from George, given how busy you must have been with putting this season of new plays together at The Cambridge Junction. Timely too, as far as I am concerned, as I had decided that Menagerie would be the last door I knocked on regarding commercial applications of my theatre practice. Mind you I always say that and just keep on knocking – as if it’s a dedicated life-choice or something equally devotional.
Yesterday was my first time inside the Junction’s main theatre space and foyer. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with either, although the foyer feels disconnected – and the coffee prices ranged from £1.00 to £1.40 depending in the discretion of individual bar-staff. How ‘disconnected’? Unnecessarily uncomfortable! Sofas and revamped wall displays (‘exhibitions’) and a live music element (for certain hours) would help the atmosphere and cost very little. The Junction Foyer is potentially a great live music space – and would be especially suited to the kinds of accoustic grooves you were alluding last Wednesday in Norfolk Street coffee-bar queue (had to look up ‘queue’ in the Collins English Dictionary and Thesaurus – a classic problem word for a dyslexic, like ‘psychedelic’. Why? I wonder.)
The theatre itself feels like its inbuilt flexibility has been frozen into the end-on shape – possibly as a result of The Junction being primarily a live music gigging, CD-flogging, stop-over for bands with recording contracts– or is it just laziness? The shopping and restaurant rectangle in which The Junction sits hard against the Cambridge railway junction is a prime example of urban planning blight. The stage is shaken by the London-bound trains as often as they run their savagely overpriced service. In a nutshell an appalling location for a theatre valuing the power of silence and meditation – inner life. Can the inner life of a deeply realised character (or storyteller) be made visible to an audience, or to the individual witnesses of which the audience is comprised? Of course it can, I will be arguing in my campaign to establish an overdue Department of Drama at Cambridge University. In my mind the voice of the great Professor George Brandt echoes down the years. Cinema-lovingGeorge was the German-Jewish founding-father of the pioneering Drama Department at Bristol University – my teacher in my post-graduate certificate course in Radio, Film and Television in 1985 – the year in which Sir David Puttnam was offering weekly lectures on his ongoing experiences in Hollywood. Just before the Super Agents kicked him out.
The Junction cyclorama needs stretching. The entire black box needs painting. The catering, where is the catering? High value soups, sandwiches, organically grown fruit and veg salads, are missing. Personally, I was dying for an all day breakfast, making do with a tuna-salad bagette and bottle of fizzy fanta for £4.60 from the rake-awayacross the quad and consumed with relish in the chilly north wind on The Junction bench. Books to browse would be a welcome addition at The Junction too – as I argue that live theatre venues should be internet-free zones – unless they are sending out a broadband message, of course. Theatre-to-cinema is the future of cinema – but not done the way the National Theatre has been doing it, in denial of the realities of the event itself, ie, by compromising the actual audience-artist exchange in the process of exporting the live event as cinema. Big subject. Theatre-to-cinema is the future of cinema (at least in one of its forms); it is not the future of theatre, it simply helps with the funding. My play The Wheel (2000), a period piece set in the Fens in 1989, predicted this trend with video ‘devices’ written in by the playwright. What is poetic action? Can it be ‘acted’ or is ‘inhabited’ more apposite?
Enter Jaques Lecoq saying: every theatre action is poetic, particularly, the ‘failed’ action as long as it is not ‘acted’ as opposed to ‘lived’.
I apologise for only staying for the first play – and for not picking up a leaflet as you advised in your on-stage preamable. I’d half-promised to attend a folk-psychedelic gig (Naomi’s) at the Portland Arms – also I prefer not to see more than one event at a time – I’m like that with paintings too. I’m often in and out of art galleries and museums – the work of one painter (or sculpter for that matter), one artifact even, at a time, per viewing session, is the best way to stimulate a long-burning response, in my experience. I dislike ‘seasons’ of plays, on the whole, for similar reasons – although I understand that the reason unhelpful groupings are made by artisticdirectors is to molify funding bodies and save on the costs of marketing – to look busy, in other words. The result is too often a labelling mentality which does no favours to the individual artists (playwrights, for instance) who in turn get labelled as a result of the grouping. For a playwright to be labelled in any way, even as ‘young’, is a one-way ticket to frustration and obscurity. Sarah Cane raged against that form of power-broking (Stephen Daldry was a master of of the psuedo-marxist collectivising of ‘new’ playwrights at the Royal Court in 1993 – and he annexed the National Theatre Studio in the process, very smart operator who commissioned The Present workshop production at the Royal Court, with John Simm in the role of Danny, then the title-role in Danny Rule (1993)…hence Cane’s ‘Blasted’ in 1995 and inducement on the part of go-getting playwrights to shake every taboo under the sun, whatever the moral-aesthetic cost. I am perplexed by the censorship debate – and long may I remain that way: it is fuel to a playwright-director as humanist.
The first play tells the story of a woman who has been brutally attacked, raped, abducted and tortured by a man who has been imprisoned for his appalling crime. In a state of extreme anxiety she has been taken to a remote beach (with a steep cliff path the only access) by her sister (and her sister’s boyfriend, whose idea it was) as ‘therapy’. There she attacks a trampy philosopher in a paranoid fit and decides to stay for the weekend rather than return to kill her rapist-attacker in the guise of ‘meeting’ him in an experimental restorative justice programme (I assume). Given you had ten days to rehearse this demanding play (with outward references to Edward Bond: a broken deck chair is in the process of being mended) and that, quite obviously, the good actors (part of an ensemble of 12) are in the process of going deeper with these voluably inarticulate characters (three in their 20s, the tramp, maybe mid 40). Given these built-in limitations of the Menagerie new playwrights project, I am wondering how it might be possible to avoid exposing a playwright’s work before it is ready – within the product-over-process ‘targets’ imposed by the increasingly illiberal mindsets of the arts-funding box-tickers within the Coalition Government – an arms-trading, oil-obsessed, anti-green minority with Prime Minister Cameron proving himself worryingly censorship-prone. . How does our excellent green-liberal MP, Julian Huppert, feel about that statement?
The actors acted ‘cold’ when they told us they were cold rather than simply being cold when they are cold in the story (ie most of the time and getting colder as the play moves on). The highly physical relationship between the sister of the traumatised sexual attack victim and her boyfriend was not believable. The inherent poetic surrealism of the playwright, one of his most promising qualities, was undermined by the crinkles on the cyclorama. Perhaps the playwright might benefit from examining those moments when the actors are speaking beyond the reality, the physical reality, of the setting – and beyond their own ability to articulate. Do they have a tent? To have been as cold as they tell us they are at the beginning of the play it would logically follow that they would all be in a state of extreme hypothermia by the end – and the tramp-philosopher would be deep within his sleeping bag would be my induction.
The physical life of theatre is a given.
I used to get around the problem by developing the physical life of the actors (pre-character) in a story-telling environment prior to (or simultaneously with) the writing of the play – something I tended to do outside the rehearsal space. Hence Apart from George was admired by my Lecoq-devotee friends, Simon McBurney’s troupe Complicite and by Mark Rylance.
The musical life of theatre is not a given.
There is simply no better way of creating a ‘theatre world’ (as distinct from a ‘cinema world’, always a retrospective art form) than with a live and visible music element. However it is impossible to do this with total integrity (ie aesthetically) without developing the musical element from day 1 of the rehearsal process.
I hope these brief insights are helpful. By the way I never made it Naomi’s psychedelic folk gig at the Portland because the play got me to thinking about the themes it engaged with. That means it was worthwhile. I was sexually molested age 14-16 by a close friend of my mother. She was a qualified nurse and I have never spoken about it – partly because she used to dope me (to semi-comatose states) and partly because I have no idea how deeply these ‘medicinal’ episodes effected me. Memory and time are the ultimate theatre subjects. Judgements and finger-pointing are almost always best withheld in the realm of art, of poetry, of music, of painting, etc: of theatre – but not always – for without the potential to finger-point we would lose the ultimate danger of the live theatre event – and in that context the playwright’s ultimate power is reserved and absolute. To quote Hamlet: ‘The plays the thing in which to catch the conscience of the king’.
I look forward to our next meeting.
How do we increase rehearsal-time within existing budgets in the semi-subsidised theatre? – a question much on my mind these days as I continue to formulate an ideal benefits top-up system – the path of minimal subsidy.
Warm regards,
Nick Ward
George Devine Award 1988 (for Apart from George (1987) and The Strangeness of Others (1988).
Apologies for not naming the play and participants – I’ll pick up a leaflet later today and amend this note accordingly. Break legs for the rst of sson. You have a good strong energy.
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