Ian Rowlands Desire Lines with Sherman Cymru

Desire Lines e-trailer from Shermancymru on Vimeo.

Desire Lines is a play that pulls open the lives of individuals as they jaunt along on their journeys, analysing who they are in a country still coming of age.  We meet ‘Man’ on what is likely to be his final train journey around his ‘small country’ and as he travels his memory comes alive, taking us through the choices of his youth, middle years, his loves, losses and regrets.

‘Sorry’: such a small word that means so much, are we sorry we didn’t hear what you said? Or sorry because as a people that is what we have been conditioned to say? If so, what are we sorry for exactly?  There is something quite welsh about that, how an invisible border can affect so much and so little.

Younger Woman:

     I just want our child to grow up                    It’s time to go home, Adam.

    Not believing that he has to get our             Time to go home because I want our child to believe

   To be big;                                                           In himself,

  As you tried to be.                                              In his country,

  I don’t want our child to believe the shit        In his own language.

  you swallowed.                                                   Not to feel the constant need to ask for permission to ‘be’

                                                                                In their tongue

To be constantly sorry, sorry, sorry!

It stops with me!

With us...

With him

Along with these, there were other flashes of brilliant dialogue that that struck a chord, in a country still growing and with an increasingly greater voice; many of the younger generation find the need to ‘find themselves’, to prove they are capable of greatness. Yet there is greatness on their doorstep and many are simply too focused on the negatives to see it. The younger ‘Man’ is a perfect example of this as he leaves searching for the ‘big city’ only to come home later on. 

Trains are the perfect place for memories, stuck with little to do on a fixed track, thoughts and memories will take over. Rowlands has capitalized on this idea, layering his character’s dialogue over one another as thoughts. Whilst this technique does make it noticeably difficult to pick the language apart and understand what is going on, it does represent a level of reality. Those moments of audience difficulty are disappointing, in the face of such poignant other moments of heartfelt emotion and comedic brilliance. We are all forced to overhear inane and annoying conversations eventually on public transport and Man’s reaction is hugely comic, how many of us have wanted to grab that idiot’s phone and chuck it out the nearest window? Or scream at the idiot on the other end? Do we really travel alone on a train? Or are you with those passengers around us? Passenger interaction is rare but the surrounding chatter and noise ensures you are never left alone.

The presence of some characters perplexed me, whilst capably performed by Joshua McCord the stereotypical intellectual youth and ignorant yob might not be out of place on a regular train but they have little place in the play. Except for the scene where he is seated next to ‘man’ for his exchange as the young gay man and the expert transformation into the son by ‘man’s’ invading memories, it felt like he was a bum on seat actor to represent a ‘typical’ train journey.

‘Old Woman’ stays silent for the majority of the play, following ‘man’ as he makes his way along. Occasionally her haunting, beautiful voice fills the space with old Welsh language tunes, bringing a feeling of peace that can only be found when a soul returns home. Between her and ‘younger woman’ they bring the voice of reason and truth that seems lacking in ‘man’s’ life and it is left to older woman’s ghost to bring man to his final stop, a journey he, inevitably, must take alone.  

Ian Rowlands attempt to objectify each place comes as a mixed bag. He almost universalizes the towns as ‘Dullage’, ‘Chavton’, ‘Our city’, ‘Ugly’ or ‘Bluerinse Bay’ and really, they could be any towns on any train journey. Although each name is a mischievous dig or a sneaky nod to places with certain reputations: ‘Our City’ is Cardiff, a vibrant up and coming cosmopolitan that makes us proud versus ‘Ugly’ and ‘Chavton’ as Llanelli and Rhyll respectively with reputations of dirty industrialisation and poverty.

Desire Lines is a play that brings out mixed opinions, heartfelt and emotional it had me welling up one minute and laughing freely the next yet those moments of laxness left me frustrated and wanting an explanation. It is at once a play of Wales and Welsh and a play of human life and its choices. It is up to the audience which piece of the play they take away with them.

Sherman Cymru

At Chapter Arts until 23^rd April on tour til 3rd May

http://www.shermancymru.co.uk/performance/drama/desirelines 

#Fly on the Wall

      

7th April, Weston Studio WMC

PROTEST.

So you don’t have to.

#Fly on the Wall: a Citrus Arts project grown from the support of Wales Millennium Centre as part of their incubator project. It was birthed in the aftermath of the G20 Summit and Iranian protests of 2009, but in its current form it is based more around more recent events examining the real voices in the protests. Citrus Arts have researched every angle of the protest world, taking genuine accounts from individuals involved in the protests and creating a cacophony of voices fighting to expose the truth. There are activists, anarchists and bloggers who all want to be heard; the police officers are doing their impossible job and calling it duty; the bankers and politicians display the power to ignore those at their door yet have a history of their own.

Politics is no longer in the hands of the politicians, far from it. As a mobile, digitally enhanced world we have the chance to voice our own opinions and make them heard. It is very much an age of the armchair protest: ‘#’ is an inconsequential piece of punctuation at the centre of debates, it represents this powerful change and even the smallest, quietest of voices can be heard in Twitter’s 140 characters or Facebook’s status updates and the myriad of Youtube video sensations and bloggers commenting on their world.

Pictures taken during WMC dress run, found on Citrus Arts NTW group page:  http://community.nationaltheatrewales.org/group/citrusarts

The show opens with the cast camping festival style, the night before the protest, along with the very Alice in Wonderland White Rabbit. As protesting has become a widespread activity for everyone it has developed a carnival atmosphere with singing, dancing, animal characters parading around making themselves noticed. There are poignant moments across the fantastic wire acrobatics, precisely choreographed moves and dancing. One cast member finds themselves wrapped by a stream of newspapers, trapped by the daily avalanche of information with nowhere to go, fighting to get out, tearing at the restraint. Another, suspended above us, tries to attract a politician’s attention and as the performer gets ever closer he also gets further away and the politician persistently ignores him, no matter how he shouts kicks or waves his flag: he is left spinning trapped by the wall of silence presented to him. The acrobatics involving the crowd barriers was cleverly done, representing a determined attitude to be heard no matter what or who stands in a protestor’s way.

With their own brand of physical theatre Citrus Arts have focused on their skills and idea’s rather than dialogue, although there is no need for structured dialogue and plot: environment and theme do all the work necessary to present a brilliantly developed piece about a singular ambition to get voices heard.

Protest? We do have to, who else does it fall to if we don’t give our opinions? If the general populace stays silent we cannot change anything, the hidden truths will never see daylight. For me #Fly on the Wall is a reminder to be determined, never losing faith in speaking up.

#Fly on the Wall will be at Galeri, Caernarvon on 13^th May

http://citrusarts.squarespace.com/  / http://community.nationaltheatrewales.org/group/citrusarts

Death and the Maiden, produced by South Wales Theatre Collective

Chapter Arts Cardiff

24^th March 2011

"The time is the present and the place, a country that is probably Chile but could be any country that has given itself a democratic government just after a long period of dictatorship."

What struck me were the stark similarities between events 20 years ago and those of the present day, the play’s content is as relevant now as it was then and there are elements of the world that haven’t really changed in two decades of technological, political and social change: the location simply changes. The difficulty with Death and the Maiden is it cannot decide whether it is set in Chile or is somewhere else suffering similar oppression, whether this was a conscious act by Ariel Dorfman in order to avoid repercussions I cannot speculate.  Making reference to known methods of torture and government commissions yet never once mentioning Chile, General Pinochet or the name of the proceeding President gives ambiguity and allows it to relate to modernity but that also frustrates, it feels like it should be one or the other.

Engineering a small, confined set mirrors Paulina’s life, as Gerardo points out:  she has secluded herself and not moved on with her life so she lives within a small circle and routine.  The set also accentuates the darkness, the intensity created by the situation and back story – there is nowhere to run from this secluded beach side retreat. The moments of ‘lights down’ when shadows fill the gloom are orchestrated with sharp clarity – the moment Paulina’s resolve breaks and Miranda becomes her victim would not have had the same effect had it been done with the lights on full. The dimming and brightening of spotlights as Paulina tells the story and he writes his ‘confession’ creates poignancy, except for the distracting stage ‘clearing’  that can be accidentally heard all too clearly in this performance.

The gun: a stage prop that provided the biggest shock, I was not expecting it to be fired yet after momentarily recovering I recognised that it should have: it’s firing seals Gerardo’s opinions of his role in proceedings and Paulina’s resolve to see her actions through. The play takes this point to shift gear towards the end; Paulina is no longer a prisoner in her own life unable to forget or forgive.  The violin playing throughout has a key part, it complements the darkness and solitary confinement within the characters lives: it sets the scene at the start and provides increased tension throughout. I did find the single, drawn out note near the end difficult to comprehend – it was an unnecessary addition to a piece progressing skilfully and creatively as an entity and within Chapter Arts Stwdio space. 

Gary Knowles’ Dr Roberto Miranda is a convincing yet ambiguous character, you never find out if he truly is the man behind Paulina’s torture. Are the ‘alterations’ he makes to Paulina’s story fed via Gerardo the accidents of a man under intense pressure or the truth of a twisted, guilty perpetrator?  The tone of voice lends to the quiet, innocent man he professes to be and gives his dialogue the intensity it needs. The intensity of Paulina however, does come across as slightly monotone: her tone and voice level perfect for moments of high intensity and emotion i.e. when Gerardo finds Paulina has kidnapped their guest and each time she brandishes the gun. Paulina’s strong, loud, demanding voice could be softer in order for the audience to hear and see her pain – Gerardo’s softer tones are more suited to his role, having to talk Paulina down, but his character could gain strength and power in more places by varying tone and volume: where you feel he should be arguing with her, not begging. Their fleeting argument over the car jack is a perfect example of the loving, familial sides to their characters that invite momentary tonal changes and an insight into the people they can be when the trauma of torture and oppression does not hang over their heads. Voice is a key part of the play as it is Miranda’s voice that Paulina recognises, bringing her past flooding back and causing the ensuing drama. Fifteen years of silence and a single voice can change everything.

Beachy Head Theatre Review

7th March,
Weston Studio, WMC

In death are we little more than a statistic? Or is there more to it than one death for every half a second? With a production that resonates with the soul Beachy Head sets out to cleverly bring the individual and emotions out from behind closed doors and off the sheet of paper that tells us that 1 in 9000 deaths are suicides. Beachy Head addresses one man’s suicide and the ripples that the action causes and the extraordinary circumstances of a suicide being caught on camera than the death itself.

With no sign, no warning it has been a month since Stephen jumped and his wife Amy is picking up the pieces, trying to understand why and struggling with the box that Stephen’s life has been reduced to. Filmmaker’s Matt and Joe on the other hand struggle with the morality of the 8 seconds of film capturing Stephen’s last moments, after all what do you do with footage like that? Delete it, or is that disrespectful? Use it and build a film around it? In Dr Rachel Sampson’s world it is clinical, scientific and removed. Her role brings the emotions and confusions back to earth but without the cold hard slap, it creates a balance that allows us to see the facts behind suicide that no one thinks about.

The use of the multimedia is cleverly played out, weaving theatrical and filmic techniques that produce a film within a play, a reverse of what film has done before. As the filmmakers build their documentary the story plays out and character monologues become talking heads and the audience is brought in to represent the masses. Very little is pre-recorded; all the ‘hand held’ camera work is fed through a live studio feed onto the screen. The use of the eerie musical sound-track sound track and visions of the cliffs brings a realistic outdoors into the artificial inside space.

Steven’s character is never fully explained: “He didn’t share what was in his head” (Amy) and his often silent, fleeting presence on the stage deepens the mystery. Concluding that you never really know why he jumps, down to his removal of his shoes.  The script plays carefully not to focus too much on why he did it, focusing on depression as an all out answer can be clichéd, his cliff top phone call is simple and powerful. Even Steven cannot explain himself: “I just have bad days”. As Amy summons the courage to de-box Steven’s possessions she discovers his last notebook, a story about a boy who cannot stand all the light surrounding him. The plot creates juxtaposition between the boy and Steven – asking the question are they the same person?  Steven’s ghostly presence acts out the story as Amy reads, his own voice blending with hers at certain points, making it clear that it is significant.  The beautiful scene at the end of Amy throwing the pages off the cliff is theatrical and poignant, freeing her emotions and Steven’s soul.

Handling such a sensitive subject is difficult; especially one that has been in and out of the news in recent years. In response the research ploughed into Beachy Head by Analogue is clearly evident, even in the smallest of details. The production artfully weaves around the emotions and facts brought about by suicide, analysing them with great sensitivity and care and with the utmost creativity. I almost don’t want to pick, but there is a piece at the end where Steven’s jump is re-enacted as Amy watches the 8 second clip, whilst very emotive and artfully done it feels a little strange, as if the act itself is out of place amongst the emotion and cold hard facts. The audience and Amy have only just begun to recognise the multiple reasons to why he could have done it and understand it cannot truly be explained, I am still unsure how I felt about it.

Analogue are touring Beachy Head around the UK until the end of March.

Welsh National Opera's Die Fledermaus

As a young critic I am an avid theatre goer but Opera? It has never evoked enthusiasm or excitement and stereotypes abounded: looking at it with untrained eyes and ears it felt a tad out of reach. Then ... The opportunity to see Welsh National Opera’s newest rendition of Die Fledermaus landed in my email, and never one to snub being proved wrong, I saw an intriguing challenge. I was happily proved wrong, Opera has something for everyone; it’s not just for the older, richer or classically leant. I am particularly glad it was Die Fledermaus, as its highly satirical content – originally and in this rendition – waltzed away from my suspicions of an over-zealous and highly emotional tragedy.

As a newbie I found that producer John Copley has created a clear-cut, well informed performance. There are so many facets to this Operetta; it juggles its stunning period costume and ornate set with contemporary influences and a truly international team. The modern piece of the pie is the genius comedy; from locked up bankers and politicians citing the prison as a second home, comparing characters to Bill Odie and his birds. Moments with Frosch the jailer being sung ‘Just one Cornetto, give it to me’ by an inmate and quoting ‘Go Compare’. There are comic moments for those truly into their Operas with nods to other opera’s via Alfred, Rosalinde’s admirer.  Nuccia Focile’s Italian accent is clear, yet she pulls off her spoken lines and the necessary Hungarian accent with panache, Desmond Barrit’s strong Welsh accent lends itself to his dialogue of depreciative and sharp satire. 

The plot itself is the elaborate ‘Revenge of the Bat’ designed by Dr Faulke’s, having been slighted by his friend Eisenstein at a previous fancy dress party and as entertainment for the bored youth Prince Orlofsky. Whilst the side narrative of Adele and Sister Ida adds meat to the already light hearted content, it was an added extra. Now this is nothing towards the spectacular performance of Joanne Boag (Adele Rosalinse’s housemaid) or accompanying Anitra Blaxhall (Ida) but can only be laid at Johann Strauss feet in 1874 – another in joke that occurs, blaming Johann Strauss. 

 With plenty of drinking, dancing, mistaken identity and convenient role switching the narrative flows along at a pace, keeping the audience entertained. Each character is so full of charm and wit you could forgive them their slights, as Eisenstein says “[blame it on the Champagne]”.

For a newbie having the opera sung in English was a bonus, feeling more at home with a language I could understand and nothing seemed out of place or off kilter as sometimes can occur in translations. Although one distraction were the subtitles above as it followed the main vocal, making following the secondary vocals sung in unison difficult to track so there were parts where I lost out on pieces.

Integral to the Opera are of course the orchestra, the singers, and the dancing: the cast are decidedly enjoyable watch and listen to. The choreography is executed with flare: from the spectacular choral dances to the fumbling comic flirtations between Rosalind’s Hungarian Countess and Eisenstein’s Marquis Renard. The orchestra performed well throughout, manoeuvring cleverly and effortlessly from piece to piece.

Welsh National Opera’s performance of Die Fledermaus, thanks to the clearly amazing team behind the scenes and on the stage, was fantastic – especially for someone as fresh to Opera as me but from catching snippets from regular opera fans in the audience it was just as brilliant for them.

So please enjoy! Unfortunately this time around there was no opportunity for photos, for that, please blame technology!
For those new to Opera, http://www.fresh2opera.co.uk/ is a fantastic start to banish away all those excuses and suspicions about attending.

Welsh National Opera's Die Fledermaus is at Wales Millennium Centre from 12th Feb - 5th March.

Strauss' Die Fledermaus Opera Review

As a young critic I am an avid theatre goer but Opera? It has never evoked enthusiasm or excitement and stereotypes abounded: looking at it with untrained eyes and ears it felt a tad out of reach. Then ... The opportunity to see Welsh National Opera’s newest rendition of Die Fledermaus landed in my email, and never one to snub being proved wrong, I saw an intriguing challenge. I was happily proved wrong, Opera has something for everyone; it’s not just for the older, richer or classically leant. I am particularly glad it was Die Fledermaus, as its highly satirical content – originally and in this rendition – waltzed away from my suspicions of an over-zealous and highly emotional tragedy.

As a newbie I found that producer John Copley has created a clear-cut, well informed performance. There are so many facets to this Operetta; it juggles its stunning period costume and ornate set with contemporary influences and a truly international team. The modern piece of the pie is the genius comedy; from locked up bankers and politicians citing the prison as a second home, comparing characters to Bill Odie and his birds. Moments with Frosch the jailer being sung ‘Just one Cornetto, give it to me’ by an inmate and quoting ‘Go Compare’. There are comic moments for those truly into their Operas with nods to other opera’s via Alfred, Rosalinde’s admirer.  Nuccia Focile’s Italian accent is clear, yet she pulls off her spoken lines and the necessary Hungarian accent with panache, Desmond Barrit’s strong Welsh accent lends itself to his dialogue of depreciative and sharp satire. 

The plot itself is the elaborate ‘Revenge of the Bat’ designed by Dr Faulke’s, having been slighted by his friend Eisenstein at a previous fancy dress party and as entertainment for the bored youth Prince Orlofsky. Whilst the side narrative of Adele and Sister Ida adds meat to the already light hearted content, it was an added extra. Now this is nothing towards the spectacular performance of Joanne Boag (Adele Rosalinse’s housemaid) or accompanying Anitra Blaxhall (Ida) but can only be laid at Johann Strauss feet in 1874 – another in joke that occurs, blaming Johann Strauss. 

 With plenty of drinking, dancing, mistaken identity and convenient role switching the narrative flows along at a pace, keeping the audience entertained. Each character is so full of charm and wit you could forgive them their slights, as Eisenstein says “[blame it on the Champagne]”.

For a newbie having the opera sung in English was a bonus, feeling more at home with a language I could understand and nothing seemed out of place or off kilter as sometimes can occur in translations. Although one distraction were the subtitles above as it followed the main vocal, making following the secondary vocals sung in unison difficult to track so there were parts where I lost out on pieces.

Integral to the Opera are of course the orchestra, the singers, and the dancing: the cast are decidedly enjoyable watch and listen to. The choreography is executed with flare: from the spectacular choral dances to the fumbling comic flirtations between Rosalind’s Hungarian Countess and Eisenstein’s Marquis Renard. The orchestra performed well throughout, manoeuvring cleverly and effortlessly from piece to piece.

Welsh National Opera’s performance of Die Fledermaus, thanks to the clearly amazing team behind the scenes and on the stage, was fantastic – especially for someone as fresh to Opera as me but from catching snippets from regular opera fans in the audience it was just as brilliant for them.

So please enjoy! Unfortunately this time around there was no opportunity for photos, for that, please blame technology!

For those new to Opera, http://www.fresh2opera.co.uk/ is a fantastic start to banish away all those excuses and suspicions about attending.

Welsh National Opera's Die Fledermaus is at Wales Millennium Centre from 12th Feb - 5th March.

National Theatre Wales first offering of 2011: Soul Exchange

National Theatre Wales have again pulled out the stops to create another piece of original yet extraordinary theatre, exploring another part of Welsh history.  Join in on the taxi-ride of a life time and enter a world which is at once alive and burgeoning but also full of history and personal stories,

Soul Exchange is a site specific performance but not in the conventional sense where it has simply been taken out of the theatre ‘space’. It is built around Butetown, celebrating the multi-cultural history and community that grew around the beginnings of the coal export industry. The performance is split into two parts, the taxi ride and the last part at the Coal Exchange. 

As soon as the audience queue to begin the Soul Exchange journey you enter its world: the dock ticket master sending you through, the passport photo’s where you absolutely cannot smile and the photographer kicks up a fuss if you so much as smirk (which is inherently funny: it is human nature to smile when told not to). A choir sings in the background and characters interact with the audience as they wait; grandmothers gossiping about their grandsons and offering to come around later for cups of tea, dock workers milling around and street sellers bartering their wares. Heading out to the taxis you pass a group huddled around a burning oil drum singing and banging away.

The taxi journey can be taken two ways; one is that the audience becomes the main character on the journey, second is that the audience is with the main character in the taxi following his movements. You are certainly drawn into the situation, experiencing everything as he would. The soon to be dad is in search of his own father and roots. Armed with a name and address that no longer exists, he and the taxi driver move from place to place picking up clues as to where he might find his father. As the audience listens to the actor’s on CD we are driven around Butetown passing by each stage of the journey: the community centre, church, tower blocks, and last of all the Coal Exchange. Amongst the streets the communities of past and present collide, with a 1920s/30s guitarist opposite a 90s hooded youth playing music from the car radio. A 70’s working class young couple arguing and an early century fruit and veg seller grace the streets; trilby wearing, Delboy style business men work their charm alongside modern ballet and street dancers. The young man finally finds his father at the church where secrets are revealed. Christian grandmothers christened mixed race children behind their father’s backs, so that they would not grow up with Muslim names; the man’s father Abdi Mahmood had become Peter Watkins. Yet it is the priest that solves the cryptic, concerning answers of the Vera and the community and delivers the bad news: the recent funeral had been his father’s funeral.

The Coal Exchange is the location of the wake, where there is further interaction between the audience and the characters of Tiger Bay. They are mourning the loss the father had been nicknamed Tiger Bay: the play places him as the community hub, its royalty and family - he is the community father as well as his family. Making him a representation of what community means, his legitimate children speak of his desire to make money but was always willing to help others. Tiger Bay is the location of the community, as well as being the community. I felt there were the odd moments where the theme of community became somewhat moralistic, driving home a little too much just how important community and family is to us all and whilst we are celebrating the history of what is now Butetown, without the coal industry it is not the community it was.



The Coal Exchange entrance hall, a building with a lot of history.



Audience interaction is crucial, without it the impact of the surroundings, the scenes played out on CD is lessened. We make up the vast proportion of the ‘community’, and splitting up groups to go into the taxis is a shrewd move, creating the ‘ah there you are’ moment when reunited – again enhancing the togetherness. The dance at the end was brilliant, encouraging the audience to dance to the ‘Butetown theme’ Tiger’s favourite song. They were simple steps but for those of us who didn’t know them it was very entertaining trying to keep up and not step on your neighbours toes, laughing with them when you did, it gave an enjoyable end to the evening.

Just some of the dancing at the end!

As we passed through the different elements the enormity of the organisation needed to produce a play on this scale was evident. The crew did a fantastic job as every stage of the journey was well structured and none of the audience looked lost or confused, we were given props and instructions where appropriate - a box of the main characters keepsakes in the taxi; photo’s, newspaper, a button with cloth and pieces of metal and then the letter Abdi Mahmood left to his lost son as we entered the Coal Exchange. The audience get to keep the boarding pass and the letter, keepsakes of our own of an excellently executed play and of a shared moment in time.

The boxes given to us for the taxi ride - placed on a very large man painted on the floor covered with maps, newspaper clippings and photo's

There are many creative elements to the play as it uses certain conventions of Radio drama and filmic techniques, using original and popular music. The audience has work hard to incorporate every element into the experience, as the dialogue and background music play out of the stereo the world outside whizzes by in a split second, much like it does in a film. You have to keep up, there is no clock watching or drifting off, every second is important.

One thing I was unsure how to react to was the length of the taxi ride as several of the street scenes were seen repeatedly. I recognise that Butetown is only a small area in which to and to get to the Coal Exchange some steps needed to be retraced and the CD was also a certain length but I felt that seeing something two or even three times was unnecessary. Yet stopping each taxi and using more of the street scenes would have required far more logistics and broken up the dialogue on the CD. 

As a play it is reliant on the history of Butetown although changing the history and the location would allow the play to fit into any other town or area of Cardiff, Wales or even the world. Soul Exchange is a fantastic feat, not only logistically but creatively and as a play alone. I look forward to the next NTW production with anticipation.