Posts tagged ‘music omh’

21 September, 2009

Punk Rock

Lyric Hammersmith, 3 – 26 September 2009

Reviewed for the London Theatre Blog

Each scene of Simon Stephens’ Punk Rock is abruptly curtailed by an uncomfortably loud belch of feedback and a mangled excerpt from a rock song. By the second hour, each of these sonic interjections sends ripples of uneasy laughter through the stalls. The whole audience is on edge, braced for a shock. Stephens’ clutch of Stockport sixth formers, seen between lessons in Paul Wills’ towering, forbidding onstage library, seem incapable of reining in the impulse to probe and prod and push one another’s boundaries; everyone in the auditorium can tell someone’s going to snap.

By the time the anticipated act of violence occurs, Stephens has laid out a whole smorgasbord of potential contributing factors: unrequited teenage love; body image issues; the spectre of trouble at home; alcohol; an environment in which parents and teachers allow sixth formers to believe a C grade in an English mock means they’ll “never get out of Stockport”; plus Bennet Francis (Henry Lloyd-Hughes), a bully whose aloof disregard for those he hurts is worse by far than actual malice, and whose effect on the group debunks with ease that maxim about sticks and stones so beloved of adult authority figures.

Yet Stephens’ real achievement is that despite all the factors presented to us, when our minds reach, as they tend to do, for a simple, catch-all way to explain the tragedy, there isn’t one. It doesn’t even feel satisfactory to conclude, “it was probably a combination of all those things”.

As an examination of the overly simplistic adult tendency to classify teenage behaviour as the direct result of easily identifiable causes like alcohol, pornography and violent media, Punk Rock delivers; though no alternative theory is forthcoming, unless you count, “some people are just broken”.

Stephens’ love of language carries him away into the odd overwrought line, and Director Sarah Frankcom’s love of Stephens’ language leads to characters delivering extended passages straight out front, while the characters they’re supposedly addressing slouch behind them in a symmetrical chorus-line chevron. The script is excellent – funny in a terrifying and guilt-ridden kind of way – and it deserves to be placed centre stage, but such unnatural blocking actually distracts from the words. Or is that too simple, too immediate an explanation…?

Written by Simon Stephens

Crew includes Sarah Frankcom (director), Paul Wills (designer), Philip Gladwell (lighting designer) and Pete Rice (sound designer)

Cast includes Nicholas Banks (Nicholas Chatman), Ghazaleh Golpira (Lucy Francis), Henry Lloyd-Hughes (Bennet Francis), Harry McEntire (Chadwick Meade), Jessica Raine (Lilly Cahill), Tom Sturridge (William Carlisle), Katie West (Tanya Gleason), Simon Wolfe (Dr Richard Harvey) and Sophie Wu (Cissy Franks)

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18 July, 2009

The Container

Young Vic, 15 – 30 July 2009

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

If you manage to get a ticket for Clare Bayley’s The Container – and with a capacity of just 28 per performance, that’ll make you part of a fairly exclusive group – first check the weather forecast, and pray for rain.

Staged in a freight container parked outside the Young Vic, The Container simulates the experience of illegal immigration aboard a long-haul lorry. Inside it’s pitch dark and smells slightly musty (avoid this production if you’re claustrophobic or afraid of the dark).

The whole space rumbles and vibrates to create a convincing illusion of movement, the result of designer Naomi Dawson and sound designer Adrienne Quartly’s combined technical efforts. That vibration creeps into your body, through the floor and the uncomfortable wooden crates that serve as seats, and sets your guts squirming.

Compound the rumbling and mustiness and darkness with heavy rain, rattling relentlessly on the container’s roof and sides, and the word ‘tense’ begins to sound woefully inadequate. The sound of rain makes the space feel even smaller, and requires the cast to raise their voices, which has a much greater effect in a metal box than it would have on stage.

It’s also a constant reminder of how hostile the outside world is to the characters, all of whom are braving unscrupulous traffickers and European police to escape war, oppression and refugee camps. The door is locked from the outside, forcing the characters – and the audience – to trust sporadic reports from a threatening Agent (Chris Spyrides) concerned more with putting one over on the authorities than with their wellbeing.

The Container is deserving of its Amnesty International Freedom of Expression Award simply for its lateral-thinking approach to altering British perceptions of asylum seekers. Rather than try to release immigrants from their pigeonhole, the play puts the British public right in there with them.

Written by Clare Bayley

Crew includes Tom Wright (director), Naomi Dawson (designer) and Adrienne Quartly (sound designer)

Cast includes Amber Agar (Mariam), Doreene Blackstock (Fatima), Abhin Galeya (Jemal), Hassani Shapi (Ahmed) and Chris Spyrides (Agent)

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20 June, 2009

Derren Brown: Enigma

Adelphi Theatre, 18 June – 18 July 2009

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

Only at a Derren Brown show could I have ended up standing on stage in a curtained cabinet with a bag on my head. Only at a Derren Brown show could someone in that position have been the envy of nearly the entire Adelphi Theatre audience.

Brown is enough of a household name that I probably don’t have to explain what it is he does (just as well, since I’m sworn to secrecy on the specifics). Suffice to say a good deal of what happens on stage during Enigma is baffling to the point of being unsettling.

Yet when he flings frisbees into the audience – a random method for picking volunteers – a Mexican wave of hands shoots up in its wake. Everyone’s eager to be unsettled personally by Brown. That isn’t to say he’s lost his spooky edge, just that the more famous he becomes, the more people are excited rather than disturbed by his act.

The mere mention of placing the audience in a trance state is still enough to scare a few people away in the interval. Those that remain react mostly with laughter as he toys with his entranced volunteers, but certain stunts – the ones that place the sleepwalking participants in physical danger, or appear to – are greeted with concerned silence.

Luckily, the only indication that Brown might be going mad with power is his patter, which gets a little snarkier with every live show. If he were a stand-up comedian, some of the lines he throws out would get him labelled lowbrow or puerile, but who’s going to challenge a master mentalist if he claims the five random words you provide are evidence of deviant sexual appetites?

Brown’s live performance is still utterly, awe-inspiringly mystifying, and that accolade is magnified when you consider the fairly limited repertoire of the traditional mentalist. As well as refreshing old faithful techniques with new vehicles – in this case, a version of children’s game Guess Who – he’s recharged his palette with new material gleaned from international sources, forcing himself not to rely solely on his tried-and-tested talent for reading body language.

Even with a privileged close-up view, a critic’s eye, a background in technical theatre and a glimpse of something I’m not sure I was supposed to see, I can’t come up with one cohesive, rational and plausible explanation for what I experienced on stage during Enigma.

But since Brown is, as always, adamant that the psychics and mediums that performed the tricks before him were all a bunch of frauds, the answer can’t be that the spirits did it. The answer is that Derren Brown did it. If anything, that’s more impressive – and more unsettling.

Written by Derren Brown and Andy Nyman

Crew includes Andy Nyman (director)

Cast includes Derren Brown

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17 June, 2009

The Mountaintop

Theatre 503, 9 June – 4 July 2009

Reviewed for the London Theatre Blog

In this imagining of Martin Luther King Jr’s last night alive, award-winning young American playwright Katori Hall boldly combines hard historical fact and in-depth character study with a comparatively barmy supernatural twist. It’s a volatile concoction that could corrode the credibility of a lesser play, but which instead provides an already dynamic production with a surging second-stage boost.

The man in the King’s shoes is David Harewood, who seems to be aiming for a career playing inspirational black leaders (he’ll soon appear on TV as Nelson Mandela). Harewood convincingly recreates the booms, swoops and tremulous vibrato of King’s legendary oratory, maintaining the vocal cadence of a preacher even alone in the privacy of his motel room. He evokes a man consumed continually by a struggle he ironically believes he alone can carry to conclusion.

He’s matched and challenged by Lorraine Burroughs as motel maid Camae, who surprises King with her views – rooted in the same beliefs as his own, but a step removed in their conclusions – and by proving no mean orator herself. Her presence brings out King’s roving eye and patriarchal views to contrast his civil rights work, which makes for much more interesting theatre than a blindly reverent onstage beatification.

Camae is also the crux of that sudden supernatural gear-change, which, far from derailing the play, not only provides some unexpectedly surreal and comic moments (mostly involving one-sided telephone conversations) but also allows us to experience anew through King’s eyes events he didn’t live to see. Thus The Mountaintop is upgraded from period character study to a history with an immediate bearing on the modern world, drawing causal links between the life and death of King and the appointment of Barack Obama to the White House.

Written by Katori Hall

Crew includes James Dacre (director), Libby Watson (designer), Emma Chapman (lighting designer), Richard Hammarton (sound designer) and Dick Straker of Mesmer (video designer)

Cast includes Lorraine Burroughs (Camae) and David Harewood (King)

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9 May, 2009

The Frontline

Shakespeare’s Globe, 8 – 23 May 2009

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

In 2008, Ché Walker’s The Frontline became the first contemporary play staged at Shakespeare’s Globe. Now, in 2009, Matthew Dunster’s production has returned to the venue: confirmation, if it were needed, that contemporary work now forms a permanent part of the Globe’s programming.

As if to ease sceptics into the change, Walker’s play is Shakespearean in its structure and scope. Presenting a chaotic day in the life of London’s “Invisibles” – dealers, addicts, cleaners, lap dancers and evangelist chuggers – the play is overseen by a Scottish hot dog vendor (John Stahl) who bookends each act with direct appeals to the audience, in the grand Elizabethan tradition.

This corner of London is populated by an ensemble of 23. Their lives, stories, arguments, debates and dialogues overlap and interlock to create a vibrant, living, continuous street scene.

The amount of action all happening at once, coupled with the wide range of sociolects in use, make some threads difficult to follow, and some of the cast strain to make their voices heard in the upper galleries. But exuberant physical business generally fills in the gaps, and that sense of everything happening at once is the point; you can’t catch every detail of the goings-on around you in real life, either.

There’s death and despair and drug dealing and other features of London’s underbelly, but on balance the tone of the show is overwhelmingly optimistic, inspiring panto-style applause and baddie-booing.

A selection of hip-hop, blues, jazz, reggae, gospel and swing numbers, with self-consciously musical theatre-style dance routines, have the audience clapping along, and there are several touching romances. Paul Lloyd and Matthew J Henry earn the most affection, as Seamus, a middle-aged Irishman in a two-tone suit, and Benny, a high-camp Beyoncé fan in pink cycle shorts and bling who turns Seamus’s attempts to remould him on their head.

As well as a few alterations to the cast, the new production exists in a new context. No longer representative of a bold step in an unfamiliar direction, The Frontline is now triumphant evidence of the success of that step.

Not only that, but it follows hard on the heels of another large-scale ensemble-cast London community play, Richard Bean’s England People Very Nice at the National, and benefits from the comparison. Bean’s play was full of national and cultural stereotypes (albeit in order to lampoon them); Walker’s is populated by three-dimensional characters (with notable exceptions). Bean’s play hung gaudy, distracting lampshades on its moral messages; Walker’s shows rather than tells, letting the action speak for itself.

Written by Ché Walker

Crew includes Matthew Dunster (director), Paul Wills (designer), Olly Fox (composer) and Georgina Lamb (choreographer)

Cast includes Trystan Gravelle (Mordechai Thurrock), Matthew J Henry (Benny), Paul Lloyd (Seamus), Kevork Malikyan (Mahmoud), Golda Rosheuvel (Beth), John Stahl (Erkenwald) and Beru Tessema (Miruts)

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12 February, 2009

England People Very Nice

National Theatre, 4 February – 30 April 2009

Reviewed for the London Theatre Blog

The National Theatre is billing England People Very Nice, the first show of 2009 to offer Travelex £10 tickets, as playwright Richard Bean’s state-of-the-nation play. Well, according to Bean, the state of the nation is the same as always: reactionary and xenophobic.

Covering four waves of immigration – French Huguenots, Irish, Jews and Bangladeshis – Bean points a flashing neon finger the size of the Olivier Theatre at our national tendency towards intolerance.

The play does a great job putting the problems of today’s multicultural London in perspective, as each generation of immigrants eventually integrates into British life and then takes its turn oppressing the next. It’s enough to make anyone wonder why we’re still considered a go-to nation for anyone fleeing persecution and adversity.

Yet Bean somehow houses this damning admonishment in an epic, centuries-spanning romantic comedy, throughout which the successive reincarnations of a pair of lovers try again and again to love one another despite cultural divides and running gags. And as if that plot weren’t enough, it is itself embedded in a fairly iffy piece of metatheatre.

The immigrants in the detention centre in 2009, you see, have devised the centuries-spanning romantic comedy while waiting on their applications for leave to remain. At its best, this framing device salts the open wound of British hypocrisy: citizenship exams, testing the loyalty of potential immigrants to the nation that banged them up as soon as they arrived? Such exquisite irony. So quintessentially British.

But the cynic in me can’t help seeing the play-within-a-play as a Get Out Of Jail Free card Bean dealt to himself under the table, allowing him to neatly sidestep criticism with the excuse, “that’s how the characters would have devised it.” And at its worst, the device is a megaphone through which Bean can announce (in case we’re a little slow on the uptake) that it doesn’t matter if a character lives through the Blitz and still looks twenty-five in 2009, because that’s the magic of theatre.

The comedy does work. It tempers the worthier observations and keeps the play from turning into art as social work for the nation. So does the star-cross’d romance. After all, the truest measure of a country’s receptiveness to new cultures is the rate of intermarriage. But I don’t need Olivia Colman’s immigration officer Philippa to face front and tell me so before I can appreciate the point.

Bean could do with worrying a little less about whether people will pick up on his meaning. It’s clear enough without all the highlighting, and in overclarifying himself, he runs the risk of closing down alternative interpretations, yanking the subtext into the foreground and robbing the play of depth.

Written by Richard Bean

Crew includes Nicholas Hytner (director), Mark Thompson (designer), Pete Bishop (director of animation), Neil Austin (lighting designer), Grant Olding (music) and Scarlett Mackmin (choreographer)

Cast includes Olivia Colman (Philippa/Anne O’Neill/Camilla), Sacha Dhawan (Norfolk Danny/Carlo/Aaron/Mushi), Trevor Laird (Yayah/Rennie), Aaron Neil (Iqbal/De Gascoigne/John O’Neill/Chief Rabbi/Attar/Imam), Sophie Stanton (Sanya/Ida) and Michelle Terry (Camille/Mary/Black Ruth/Deborah)

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14 January, 2009

Roaring Trade

Soho Theatre, 7 January – 7 February 2009

Reviewed for the London Theatre Blog

In Roaring Trade at the Soho Theatre, playwright Steve Thompson takes the risky stance of apologist for the short sellers, lifting the lid on the cutthroat culture of high-risk bond trading. The pressure to make millions or lose your job on the spot tends to encourage certain personality traits; the play’s central characters are four traders at McSorley’s, “second largest bank in the square mile,” and each is, in his or her own unique way, a complete screw-up.

Donny (Andrew Scott) is a gambler, responding to catastrophic losses by taking ever greater risks. When it’s his turn to see his ten-year-old son Sean (Jack O’Connor), all he can talk about is money markets. Jess (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) isn’t above flirting with clients to seal a deal. PJ (Nicolas Tennant) wants out, but his wife Sandy (Susan Vidler) has already spent his next five years’ bonuses in her head. And as for new boy Spoon (Christian Roe)…

The foursome – nominally a ‘team’ – compete viciously for profits in Kandis Cook’s Spartan office space. The same desks and swivel chairs become restaurants and living rooms; even on their own time, these people exist in the office. Under IT Designer Matt Kirby’s control, the same flatscreens that display market statistics (constantly flickering and updating) also suggest wallpaper or graduation photos.

The characters’ skyscraping egos demand surefooted performances, and under Roxana Silbert’s direction, the whole cast delivers with confidence and flair.

The race for the biggest bonus is just the respectable front for any number of other, more personal conflicts. The quickfire, often comic dialogue crackles throughout with phallic imagery – bonus size equals penis size; the pub after work is “a willy-measuring contest” – so Jess, the only trader lacking a phallus, has to fight to become more than just another measure of success for her male colleagues.

But the play’s centrepiece is actually a class conflict: slack-jawed bootstrapper Donny versus Cambridge graduate Spoon (named by Donny – “Silver Spoon, born with, in your trap”). Disguised as a simple clash of personalities, the issue nevertheless simmers underneath their escalating one-upmanship, never fully acknowledged but erupting in moments of passion.

It’s these conflicts bubbling away in the subtext that allow Roaring Trade to transcend its context. It is not a play ‘about’ the credit crunch. The money markets are simply a topical backdrop in which enormous egos are placed under enormous pressure, and consequently emotions are concentrated and conflicts magnified. Roaring Trade is an outstanding piece of straight theatre – regardless of its relevance to current affairs.

Written by Steve Thompson

Crew includes Roxana Silbert, Director; Kandis Cook, Designer; Matt Kirby, IT and Media Designer; Wolfgang Goebbel, Lighting Designer; Matt McKenzie, Sound Designer

Cast includes Jack O’Connor, Sean; Christian Roe, Spoon; Andrew Scott, Donny; Nicolas Tennant, PJ; Susan Vidler, Sandy; Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Jess

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11 January, 2009

Dorian Gray

Leicester Square Theatre, 9 January – 1 February 2009

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

Oscar Wilde’s only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, is a short and very enjoyable book; Ruby in the Dust have adapted it into a frustrating and interminable piece of theatre.

Wilde is rightly still admired for his wit, but in adapting the novel writer and director Linnie Reedman has allowed admiration to override common sense. Hardly a line of Wilde’s dialogue has been cut, hardly a scene omitted. Due reverence to the source material is one thing; copy-pasting an entire novel, however short, onto the stage is taking it too far.

The few cuts Reedman does make are those dictated by the size of her ensemble, but even in these situations she ties herself in knots trying to hang on to as much of Wilde’s dialogue as possible.

For instance, no one is available to play the mother of Sybil Vane, the young actress that captures Dorian Gray’s heart, so to retain the mother-daughter conversation Sybil (Joanna Hickman) gets a scene with her manager Mr Isaacs (James Lloyd Pegg) instead. But Pegg is doubling as Sybil’s brother James, so the siblings’ following conversation – which has much more bearing on the plot – has to be transplanted into a letter, which demands that Sybil infodump James’ backstory to Mr Isaacs.

Confoundingly, Reedman even adds her own subplots, expanding the backstory of an opium den prostitute to a ten-minute monologue and having Dorian ‘groom’ his young valet, Leaf (whom Dorian remarks looks strikingly like his fiancée Sybil, in case the audience don’t understand doubling up).

The Leaf subplot is part of an effort to update Wilde’s novel by making explicit some of the excesses to which Wilde only alludes. This is a fair goal: laws and attitudes of the time prevented Wilde from explicitly mentioning homosexuality and thankfully today’s society is more accepting. But the result is a scattershot attempt at sexing up the material; an unexpected gay kiss here, young Leaf going down obligingly on his knees there.

Mostyn James gives an unconventional interpretation of Dorian, the beautiful young man whose rash prayer allows him to remain young and unsullied while his portrait ages and bears the marks of his moral decline.

James’s Dorian is a sneering public-school boy. He’s entitled by his wealth and he knows it. The arrogance, not the innocence, of youth is the focus of his performance; his position and his good looks give him natural advantages of which he is well aware and makes full use.

While this is probably a more honest portrayal of a young man with Dorian’s gifts than Wilde’s character, it is also a more pessimistic and less sympathetic one. The novel is a redemption fable; James’s Dorian is an irredeemable cad.

J. William Davis’s design is almost faultless, the disadvantage of this being that it raises expectations the adaptation cannot meet.

The Leicester Square Theatre’s Basement is now a Victorian gentlemen’s club, with the audience seated round candlelit café tables. Dorian’s quest to satiate his senses is echoed by a design that touches every sense: there is smooth velvet everywhere, a pianist plays lounge music, entertainers in half-masks offer satsumas and ginger beer and on the piano, a stick of incense burns.

The intimate atmosphere – plus readily available lubrication from the bar – does its job admirably, relaxing the audience into a content and receptive mood – which, of course, the play then proceeds to erode.

The only design flaw is in the representation of the portrait itself, the bête noir of anyone adaptating Wilde’s novel. For much of the play it’s hidden offstage, which forces the actors to admire it while standing in a poorly lit doorway, through which a lift shaft is clearly visible.

The whole production appears to have been prepared with the best of intentions and a genuine love for Wilde’s work. Unfortunately good intentions don’t always make good theatre, and Dorian Gray is, like its protagonist, beautiful only at first glance.

Written by Linnie Reedman after Oscar Wilde

Crew includes Linnie Reedman (director) and J. William Davis (designer)

Cast includes Robert Donnelly (Basil Hallward), Joanna Hickman (Sybil Vane), Mostyn James (Dorian Gray) and Vincent Manna (Lord Henry Wotton)

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9 January, 2009

Studies for a Portrait

White Bear Theatre Club, 6 January – 1 February 2009

Reviewed for the London Theatre Blog

All four characters in Studies for a Portrait are homosexual men, but the overriding theme of the play is not homosexuality. Whatever might be wrong with it, the play deserves some praise for reminding people that gay characters can explore and embody other important issues than their own sexuality.

Celebrated American artist Julian Barker (Martin Bendel), a contemporary of Warhol and Bacon, is dying of pancreatic cancer. While Julian attempts gamely to continue painting, drinking and shagging until he drops dead, politicians, admirers and former lovers emerge from the woodwork to squabble over his legacy – both financial and emotional.

Each has a genuine claim over Julian, whether as a commodity, an inspiration, a benefactor, or simply as a friend. Which of these claims, the play asks, is most valid? To whom does a public figure’s legacy rightfully belong – to himself, to his public, or to his bereaved?

Julian is a largely offstage presence, cloistering himself in his studio and allowing his devotees to fight amongst themselves. Director Adam Spreadbury-Maher resists confrontational histrionics in favour of calculating nastiness, enabled by some delicious turns of phrase from playwright Daniel Reitz. Julian’s current and former lovers, Chad (James Holmes) and Marcus (David Price), have an especially honest and vicious enmity.

Beyond these enjoyably frank exchanges the play is heavy on flimsily motivated exposition. Backstory details are revealed in monologue to the subject, who presumably already knows his own life story, but sits through the lecture anyway for the audience’s benefit. Spreadbury-Maher’s directorial understatement allows the dialogue to shine when it’s good, but leaves the stage too static when exposition slows the pace.

Stylistically and thematically, Studies for a Portrait breaks no new ground, but it does attempt to sow something worthwhile there. Every play like this one is another step towards relocating non-heterosexual people from the LGBTQ Theatre bracket into the artistic mainstream. It isn’t an overt call to arms, but it’s one more raised fist in an invisible revolution.

Written by Daniel Reitz

Crew includes Adam Spreadbury-Maher (director)

Cast includes Martin Bendel (Julian), Stephen Hagan (Justin), James Holmes (Chad) and David Price (Marcus)

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20 November, 2008

Sixteen Up

Unicorn Theatre, 11 – 22 November 2008

Reviewed for the British Theatre Guide

Every new generation faces much the same obstacles as the last. The challenge when making theatre about growing up is to cover the same old problems in new and relevant ways.

So it’s only a mild criticism to say that Box Clever’s Sixteen Up offers few truly original insights. We already know falling in love for the first time is exhilarating, awkward and often painful, or that it’s difficult to talk to your parents about sex. It’s the presentation of these ideas that matters.

Box Clever’s presentation consists of two capable performers, two very nifty set pieces and a musician.

Two wheeled wooden structures each double as a projector screen and a nightclub podium or cosy bedroom. The projectors are built in, along with several carefully placed spotlights, so the boxes can be wheeled about without the need for refocusing.

These mobile screens are the canvas for Carl Stevenson’s animated films, which clarify the setting for certain scenes, as well as showing the world through the characters’ eyes.

For instance, Adam’s parents are represented through giant cartoonish images: his mother’s knobbly knees and impatiently tapping slipper, or his dad’s enormous bloodshot eye peering through his partly-open bedroom door.

Similarly, Evie’s two friends are stick figures doodled on squared paper. Their mouths appear first, and they are differentiated largely through the accents Evie (Elizabeth Cadwallader) adopts to portray them; the squared paper background gives the scene’s setting, a maths lesson.

Stevenson’s films also inject some colour into the otherwise blank canvas of the stage, along with Itai Erdal’s soft pastel lighting.

From the side of the stage, musician Matt Hales – best known for his work with piano balladeers Aqualung – sits with his acoustic guitar, providing punctuation, accompaniment and short incidental songs.

Lyrically the compositions are somewhat lacking, but climbing minor chords or rapidly strummed staccato notes really enhance the urgency of the emotionally-charged dialogue.

Sixteen Up is less a play about sexual awakening than it is about the impossibility of verbally communicating complex feelings experienced for the first time – whether to your parents, friends or new partner.

Michael Wicherek’s monologues employ a loose verse style, with a pleasant rhythm and rhymes casually dropped in wherever the opportunity arises. But when the characters enter dialogue, the eloquence of their inner monologues dries up into meaningless niceties, illustrated on screen by mobiles texting the lines as they’re spoken.

Of the two performers, Lloyd Thomas (Adam) has a better grasp of the rhythm of the lines, but Elizabeth Cadwallader demonstrates greater vocal versatility when voicing her friends or her Act Two boyfriend (a hoodie on a coathanger).

Both Thomas and Cadwallader give confident physical performances where Georgina Lamb’s movement direction demand them. Most importantly, they have believable onstage chemistry.

The play has some pacing issues. Wicherek occasionally revels so much in the expressiveness of his language that he continues monologues past the point where they’ve said all they need to say.

But as aforementioned, the cannot avoid reiteration – and one of the play’s recurring motifs is that it isn’t what you say that matters, it’s how you say it. Sixteen Up says it with a balanced mixture of media that is both skilful and engaging.

Written by Michael Wicherek

Crew includes Iqbal Khan, Director; Itai Erdal, Lighting Designer; Georgina Lamb, Movement Director; Carl Stevenson, Filmmaker

Cast includes Lloyd Thomas, Adam; Elizabeth Cadwallader, Evie; Ben Hales, Musician

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