Posts tagged ‘Kate Revz’
Presented by Cry Havoc, at ATYP Under The Wharf
When Antonin Artaud wrote about a Theatre of Cruelty, what he had in mind was the cruelty of letting an audience in on a truth about themselves they did not necessarily want to know. Like telling someone their flies are undone, or they have toilet paper stuck to their shoe, or they have had too much to drink; it’s cruel, but necessary. For a greater good. He doesn’t mean the cruelty of barbarism, the unnecessary acts of evil; like (spoiling the plot of a good story, or) chopping off somebody’s hand. This is more Theatre of Brutality, in all its blood-drinking, bone-snapping, gullet-wrenching Coliseum tradition. Even so, one feels a sense of Artaudian cruauté permeating this Shakespearean splatterfest, for no matter how wild the ride becomes there are revelations – other than the Apocalyptic kind – about the residence of the human soul in places nobody wants to shine light on.
Not that the loathsome crimes depicted are too far removed from similar plotlines cued up each week on episodes of SVU or CSI: Miami – only here, instead of the slick jump cuts the horrors of sexual violence are shown in the kind of extreme forensic detail only theatre can provide. No wonder people want to look away. No wonder they walk out. Because it is a cruel trick to let someone think they are coming to watch Shakespeare; only to shatter that illusion by giving up a grisly sequence of ritualistic assaults and murders strung together by the odd bit of iambic pentameter. But then that’s what Elizabethan theatre was for the most part; bloody revenge tragedies. In 16C though, one can imagine groundlings cheering with every hacked limb, their voices outstripping the finer points of any poetry the Bard may have thought to add into varied dialogues on moral justice (for example). No groundlings at this venue. Certainly no-one cheering the rape of Lavinia. “This is his worst play” someone quipped behind me at half-time. Of course one of those people had also been chattering quietly throughout Act I so one quietly wanted to stab them in the eyeball. Revenge Tragedy. The only difference is you.
What would Artaud make of Cry Havoc’s Titus Andronicus, one wonders, with their emblazoned dedication to the canon; a play never taught as a masterpiece, but embracing the visceral image theatre, a tradition of truth-telling at the core of performance that demands nearly impossible feats from the cast. None will know, for this is the twenty-first century Titus – the French theorist’s disdain for the classics is of no importance to a 2011 audience, is it? How much of the audience just wants blood for blood? I know I did.
There lies the true horror of this play. That we are creatures of malice, however intended. Revenge does not need to descend into madness to succeed, it is not blind, it feeds on what is wrong, the kind of pure and simple fact that something is awry. Sit in the audience and dare to feel otherwise. I couldn’t. Look. Away.
Titus Andronicus, by William Shakespeare; playing at ATYP ‘Under the Wharf’. Directed by Kate Revz, featuring Helmut Bakaitis, Gabriel Fancourt, Sam Haft, Sean Hawkins, Drew Livingstone, Megan O’Connell, Suzanne Pereira, Berynn Schwerdt, Demetrios Sirilas, Tom Stokes, Anthony Taufa, Aaron Tsindos and Eloise Winestock. Playing until November 5th.
presented by Cry Havoc, at ATYP Studio 1, October, 2010
This solid rendition of Anton Chekhov’s ode to domesticity varies in light and shadow, switching between forms deftly as the eponymous women edge closer and closer to the abyss. Such creeping existential angst as this cannot be taken frivolously, but somehow within the dense dialogue and philosophy we are left with a wry smile to take home along with an abject lesson in seizing the day. The cast are superb, bringing the difficult emotional truths of their parts to the front – and despite the small-town setting it is a front. these people are fighting for their lives. It’s a battle that rages within the soul, the opposing forces: reason, love, loyalty and vice. And this production takes no prisoners.
At the core of the play is the paradox of choice. Terrible thing, this free will that we are granted, especially since our wants and needs are so often at odds with each other. Desire is tempered by compromise and a gradual acceptance that what dreams may come will often have a pricetag attached that can be cruelly prohibitive. Chekhov’s not messing around, themes of destiny, imagination and love take priority amid the day-to-day. With each sister’s journey comes something just out of reach, and the burning question comes with a sting in its tail: is it their choices that have left such potential unfulfilled? Or is it circumstance that betrays them? It’s not an easy one to answer; Olga, Masha and Irina are all intelligent and capable women, it should be a cinch to get to Moscow, right? But with compassion comes a kind liability. I cannot say whether their choices are for the better or for the worse, but that’s not the point – this is theatre that is asking questions, not giving answers.
The staging is uncomplicated and clean, letting the realism and comic dialogue flourish in a friends-and-family portrait of colour and light. This is counterpointed with sly moments of expressionism and measured physical theatre between scenes, with a looming but understated sound design featuring original music from co-producers Jai Courtney and James Mackay (who also broods magnificently in the role of Andrei). For the record: I’m not in the habit of featuring actors in theatre responses as I believe it detracts from the work they do to adopt the personas of character – and no more so is this relevant here, the cast are all stand-out, a riveting ensemble. You couldn’t pick whose story carries more weight. To mention one actor is to mention them all, and looking through the program, the clarity of the team ethos behind Three Sisters is striking.
Very few kitchen sink dramas will keep me enthralled but Chekhov is a special case, and done well, it’s realism at its finest. I really liked the modernisation of this text, from multiple translations and peppered with cheeky pop references or the occasional ‘extra line’. Far be it for me to say whether the master can be improved by judicious add-ons to the script but if it works? It certainly doesn’t detract from the searing, mountainous aphorisms (to paraphrase Nietzsche’s Zarathrustra) that lie between the moments of domestic business in the Prozorov household. That business which comes into its own – between the lines – anything to stave off the paralysing ennui that is the writer’s signature in twentieth century drama. These details are auspiciously addressed in the little things, the comic moments, precise tableaus and visual cues within the framework of tight realism.
Director Kate Revz and the creative team have put together a thoughtful, balanced and ultimately uplifting production of a very difficult text, one that echoes to my existence: as I look around and make my own day-to-day affairs, I cannot help but reflect on the stories of three sisters (and one brother) who somehow settle for something distinctly unsettling. Also I can’t get that song out of my head. You know the one I mean. Recommended.
Three Sisters plays at ATYP Studio 1 ‘Under The Wharf’ until November 6. Featuring Georgia Adamson, Celeste Dodwell, Duncan Fellows , Anthony Gooley, James Mackay, Diana McLean, Megan O’Connell, Kelly Paterniti, Mark Pound, Berynn Schwerdt and John Turnbull
Presented by Cry Havoc for Griffin Independent, February 2010
Orestes: Prince of Argos, favoured by the Gods, matricidal maniac and sometime sociopath – Charles Mee has reshuffled the Euripidean deck to create an inverted modern myth. Only this time our protagonist is a few cards short.