Private Peaceful - theatre review

“Tonight, more than any other night, I want to feel alive.”

These are the thoughts that are going through our character Tommo’s mind as he cradles his watch to his ear, listening to the comforting sound of the ticking.

The watch is a gift from his beloved brother and Tommo keeps checking to see if the watch is still working.

It is.

Time is still ticking along.

And time is clearly very much the essence for Tommo and a recurring theme in this play.

In fact, Tommo begins to reflect on times gone by – especially memories of childhood fun with his brother Charlie and local friend Molly.

We begin to read between the lines and we realise that Tommo had a crush on Molly. We smile when Tommo recalls the first time they all went skinny dipping and the first time he glimpsed a female’s naked body. And then we realise, sooner than Tommo did, that Molly and Charlie were in love with each other all along and poor ol’ Tommo was the go-between – acting as courier of love letters between the two.

Tommo is played by Odhran McNulty and for the entire 80 minutes of the play, Odhran has no props and no fellow actors – yet he plays 22 characters, a wide range of accents and numerous scenes. His skill and talent is hugely admirable. His many accents brought a smile to my face and were a joy to watch. With no props (except for a few small stools), his energy was unstoppable as he used every inch of the stage and every permutation of movement to transform himself through a myriad of scenes. It really was an impressive feat.

I began to notice that the same familiar trademark of Pintsized Productions was apparent with this piece too – Nuala Donnelly’s precise direction – her ability to use one actor, no props and yet vividly depict a number of scenes and characters is remarkable. And a vivid depiction it most certainly was. We quickly forgot that there was only one man on a stage. We were immersed in the world of Tommo. Does Molly realise that he’s actually in love with her? Will Molly and Tommo be reunited?

We watch as Charlie and Tommo get pushed into signing up for the war. We watch the triumphant leader putting pressure on young men to act for their country. We watch the old lady taunting Tommo and asking him if he’s too much of a ‘coward’. We watch these scenes unfold and forget that there’s only one man playing all of them – McNulty's ability to portray many characters allows us to immerse ourselves in the story.

We learn that Charlie and Molly name their baby after Tommo and it warms our hearts. We hear how Molly longs for baby Tommo to meet his dad and uncle after the war and we hope they will all be reunited. And we are catapulted into Tommo’s world when he’s lying in the middle of the trenches, dodging death. We are transported into that scene, seeing him crouching down next to his injured brother, refusing to leave him. We’re behind him 100% when he disobeys orders – orders that tell him to leave his brother behind. And we’re there with him facing the consequences and feeling the injustice of his young years.

“Tonight, I want very much to believe that there’s a heaven, that death is not a full stop, and that we will all see one another again.”

And then the lights go up, and we have tears in our eyes, and we’re transported back to the present. This is just one man on a stage. But for 80 minutes, we were in Tommo’s world, immersed in his life, immersed in the people that surrounded him, immersed in his realisation that time is so very precious and tonight, more than any other night, we should remember to feel alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Private Peaceful was performed by Odhran McNulty and directed by Nuala Donnelly. 

Written by Michael Morpurgo and adapted by Simon Reade. 

Pintsized Productions website: Pintsized

101001 - Homelessness Awareness

Today I am meeting up with friends to attend a walking theatrical tour. Today it is raining. “Lashing it down” as my mother would say. Before I allow my thoughts to drift down into self-pity about how the weather could spoil our day – I quickly remind myself; this is a tour about homelessness. A glorious sunny day is not a luxury the homeless can control – it is what it is.

Setting off with headphones, a tour guide and umbrellas, the drama is narrated into our ears as we walk along the familiar streets of Belfast. We pass the homeless hostel, Cornmarket, Joys Entry, Queen's bridge – but unlike previous Three Theatre’s productions, there are no actors lined along the way to match the words. Unfortunately, actors are not needed. Instead there are real life characters who are there, day in; day out. The man sitting on the bench with his bottle of cider and black eye; his demeanour sad and empty.

There’s the woman sitting next to the cash-link in Cornmarket, her placement very familiar to our narrator; he recalls a little girl putting money in his cup – and her mother scurrying away, not even wanting to make eye contact.

As we continue our walk, I notice that huge damp spots already line along the toes of my boots. The narration reminds me that these streets are not just passages to hurry through – from one message to another – these streets have become his home – day in, day out.

Knowing that the narration has been compiled following interviews with three homeless people – makes this piece all the more unforgettable. The fact that heroin was offered to him four times in the first night of the hostel, the quick descent into drug addiction, being kicked whilst trying to sleep in doorways, being offered money for sexual favours from other men – the utter vulnerability and insecurity.

But more than that – the invisible cloak that seemed to surround him. People pretending that he didn’t exist. People afraid to make eye contact. The intimacy of the headphones made these images all the more striking.

This is a hard hitting piece that made me feel both sad and grateful in equal measures. An unforgettable experience that deepened my view of the city streets. Those alleyways are no longer the passages to the next part of the day – they are the home of someone who may just need a look or a smile. 

~~~~~~

10100i is a walking tour of Belfast city produced by Three's Theatre Company at The MAC, Belfast, in conjunction with Simon Community and OutsideIn. It was written by Colm Doran and Gina Donnelly with voice-overs by Brendan Quinn and Adele Gribbon.   

I attended on Sunday 13 October at 1.30pm 

The Painted Lady - by Rob Hollway

Who is the Painted Lady?

Is it the woman who is strewn across the stage the minute we arrive into the auditorium?

Thirty minutes before the play even starts, she is lying, face down, her short dress exposing her bare legs. A pair of high heels tossed to one side hints at a night of drunken chaos.

But this isn’t some stranger’s bed she has woken up on, she is lying in a field, in the midst of thorny thistles.

She awakes from her stupor, confused and wondering how she got there. Her head is thumping. She scrambles around in a panic looking for her bag, her phone, her purse – are they there?

With relief, she realises she does still have them – but not before she clutches her stomach and heaves, throwing up into the grass.

This is the subject that is tackled with such honesty in this play – the subject of alcoholism and addiction.

Kimberley not only has the dreaded hungover and no idea where she is, but has awoken to the face of a none-too-happy Dan who wants her off his private property.

I’m imagining that this is going to be some sort of romantic connection, but actually it goes a lot deeper than that. Dan, a self-confessed hermit and the hungover chaotic Kimberley seem to have been placed in each other’s paths for a reason.

What unravels throughout this 90 minute play (which seemed to zip by in no time) is the gradual disclosure of each other’s secrets. Each of them have buried hurts; each of them have hidden fears and slowly they begin to realise they have more in common than once thought.

But a tension and conflict keeps the play moving as these strangers are able to confront each other in ways that perhaps a family member couldn’t. He challenges her abusive relationship and she challenges his festering self-pity.

Whilst the subject matter could seem heavy and a drudge, this play is anything but. It is scattered with plenty of humour along the way, which had the audience laughing aloud.

The painted lady – which is actually a reference to a butterfly, was captured so beautifully in a scene that used lights and visual imagery to capture a magical feeling.

There were moments of poetic lyrical language, and there were also moments of heartfelt emotion. When Dan described, in a raised voice, of his struggle with the alcohol, it felt like he was really talking from the heart.

The final scene left a tear in my eye as I realised that these two lost souls, who had crossed each other paths for whatever reason – synchronicity or a guardian angel – were finally opening up to each other in a way that could lead to healing and contentment.

~~~~~

“The Painted Lady” was written by Rob Hollway, performed by Rob Hollway & Debra Hill and directed by Rachel Coffey. It was performed in Accidental Theatre, Belfast on 4, 5 & 6 April 2019.

'Natural Disaster' by Roisin Gallagher

We will all experience grief at some point in our life. 

That raw, aching, sadness when someone we love so dearly is taken from us.

In ‘Natural Disaster’, Roisin Gallagher expresses so clearly that feeling of loss, without using many words.

The set, her father’s shed, is a symbol of her dying dad. It is wonky, lopsided, full of holes and susceptible to storm damage.

And the storm comes.

The storm, symbolising his illness, is so howling, so terrifying; it’s like a scene from a horror movie.

Roisin, on her knees, writing in the soil, is trying to remember everything about her dad before the storm takes the shed.

Descriptions of how he looks are narrated over the loud speaker using sound effects that are both hypnotic and eerie.

His coat, his trousers, his hat – are hung on pegs, as though to represent that her dad is still standing there with her.

His welly boots, a symbolic representation of his hard-working, sturdy stature, feature throughout.

And mid-way, a tiny welly boot is produced, an inkling that there is another character in this story.

The storm progresses. The rain beats down heavily on the shed; the storm is battering her father.

She rushes around, trying to prevent the damage. She uses plant pots to try to catch the leaking water. But the flood rises and rises and rises – until suddenly, she is drowning. Drowning in her grief.

Using physical theatre, fantastic sound effects and lighting, Gallagher depicts this drowning scene to perfection. And in that murky darkness, I can feel her pain. I can feel her despair. I know how horrendous she must have felt in her grief.

And then, we hear a recording of her late father’s voice. I feel a tear spring to my eye and roll down my cheek. Then more tears as we sit with Roisin and listen to those recordings – those fragments of time spent with her father that she wanted to document; for fear of forgetting.

We are led to a memory of the funeral – her standing there; tray of sandwiches in each hand, listening to the clichéd platitudes of those attending. ‘Great service, at least he’s at peace, do you want an egg and onion sandwich, yes the flights are very expensive at this time of the year’ – All those empty, meaningless words when actually her face is saying ‘I’m grieving, I’m in agony, I don’t care about fecking egg and onion sandwiches’.

She is ‘shocked’, ‘shocked’, ‘shocked’ – punctuated by gun-shot sounds and sharp body movements. The sound, design and physicality of this piece allows Roisin to express her grief in a way which words can’t. Perhaps that’s why there’s such a limited script.

The shed represents her grief – sitting in it, lying in it, screaming in it, and then eventually walking away.

The child’s tiny welly boot makes a re-appearance – reminding us of the circle of life. There’s a little one to look after. There are giggles; cuteness; a smile on her face; a reason to put on her heels and try to walk on.   

'Natural Disaster' by Roisin Gallagher was performed in The MAC, Belfast on 15 - 16 March 2019
Tinderbox Theatre Company 
Writer & performer - Roisin Gallagher 
Director - Patrick J O'Reilly 
Producer - Jen Shepherd 
Set & Lighting Designer - Ciaran Bagnall 
Sound Designer - Isaac Gibson 
Stage Manager - Seana Green 
Set Construction - Matthew Forsythe 

'Wasted' by PintSized Productions

I am sitting in the American bar right beside the stage. An audience sits drinking their Sunday afternoon pints about to watch ‘Wasted’. Two actors are in front of me. Two chairs. Two spotlights. The music begins. Immediately we are thrown into a nightclub scene. The two actors are drinking, taking selfies, dancing. As the title suggests, they are wasted.

It is fast, vibrant, energetic. We move through scenes with great speed – the bar, the taxi, the club. We even move from character to character quickly – one minute we are watching two female best friends, next the actors switch to two male friends. Thrown into the mix, the characters change to a mother, a bouncer, a Policeman. All the actors have are two chairs and two spotlights. But with fascinating direction and choreography, one hour of two actors and two chairs becomes so much more.

We have Emma and Kate, best mates on a night out. They bump into Oli and Charlie, and the four progress from a few drinks in the bar, to drinking games, to a taxi, to a club. There’s a scene where Emma falls and is picked up by Oli. Oli examines her bloody foot, only to find that the blood is actually spilled Strawberry Daiquiri. Shannon Wilkinson (Emma) portrays a highly realistic drunken girl – even her facial gestures are down to a tee. Then she manages to switch to the laddish Charlie, which she pulls off effortlessly by the way she cranes her neck and she way she swaggers.

Thomas Martin on the other hand, who originally plays Oli, immediately switches to best friend Kate, and we need no explanation. He can act girlish, feminine and like a sympathetic girlie best friend. Then straight away he can switch straight back into his male character who is being grilled by his mother on what he got up to the night before.

How Nuala Donnelly pulled together this feat of choreography and direction is beyond me.  It is fast, tight, and non-stop. This play does not stand still. And yet for some reason, you never lose grip of who is playing who and what scene we are on. The actors pull it off perfectly.

The scenes jump back and forward as we start to learn the events of that wasted night. Emma lost her phone, her wallet, her keys and her friend Kate. Oli is there is pick up the pieces. To literally carry her home over his shoulder.

But then the following morning comes, and along with it, the hangover. Emma’s dread as she awakens and feels rough. But worse than that, did something happen last night? Was there sex? Does she even remember anything?

And this is where the main tension of the story lies. Did Emma and Oli have sex? Emma was too drunk to remember. Did she even consent to it? eg. Was it rape?

Therein lies a storyline which in some ways should feel like a talk to young people, and yet it doesn’t come across like that. Interwoven within the dramatic storyline are lessons to be learned. What would happen if Emma reported Oli? What would the Police say? How would the interviews take place? What are the consequences for this alcohol fuelled evening?

This play has everything – powerful, emotional scenes – when Emma is crying to her friend and can’t remember anything. Comedy and light-heartedness – the early evening, the selfies, the hanging off the bar ordering drinks. Information and education – all young people should watch this play and come away with lessons learned. And physical theatre – how can only two chairs tell so many scenes? It’s because of the way the two actors bounce off each other, move, twist, exchange roles and genders. It is clever, it has perfect timing and it is entertaining.

What was also interesting about the writing of this play (written by Kat Woods) was that my sympathies for the two main characters switched back and forth. I never really knew what was going to happen or what the outcome would be for Oli.

The final scene left me with tears in my eyes. A hugely powerful hard-hitting yet entertaining play. This is one I will not forget.   

~ 'Wasted' by Pintsized Productions was performed in the American Bar, Belfast on Sunday 24 February 2019.

Rambert 2: Mixed Bill - dance review

What happens when you want to review a dance piece but you feel majorly unqualified to review it? The review below happens.

I remember studying Rambert Dance Company as part of my University degree which was more years ago than I care to admit (alright then, 24 years ago).

So when I saw that Rambert 2 was performing at the MAC, I begged a friend to go with me, knowing in advance that I’d love it. Thankfully she loves contemporary dance as much as me, so we drove to the MAC with high expectations.

We were informed that the show was split into 3 parts – the first part, followed by a short 5 minute break; the second part, an interval, and the third part finale.

First part opens. What I immediately observe is the youth of these dancers. Rambert 2 is a new group of the world’s best dancers. I learned that 800 auditions were whittled down to the 13 we have on the stage in front of us. And 13 hugely young people they are. These kids must have been dancing from the minute they left the womb, devoting every evening and weekend to dance. Every movement is perfect, every contortion of their body is athletic; these are young people who are hugely gifted in their field; it is a joy to watch.

Coupled to this is the amazing music which is loud, dynamic, vibrant and youthful. I almost feel like I’m down at the local Thompsons watching kids who are so in tune with the music, I would almost blame it on chemicals.

And then there is one girl who stands out even more than the others. A spotlight of white light shines down on her. I’m wondering if it’s to represent her death and ascendance to heaven in the storyline. Next she dances in the middle of a group of the others. The group have the same repetitive movements but she dances and weaves inside and through them with all the skill and rebellion of a unique loner.

As if the first part wasn’t so flipping amazing enough, it just gets better with every stage of the production. By the third part, we are watching insanely talented dancers who are on their actual tippy-toes for what seems like ages – doing what seems like some sort of tribal dance. I am beyond wondering what story the dance represents. Now I am simply mesmerised by these hugely talented humans. How can the human body do so much? How do these athletic vessels live their lives? They must be training morning, noon and night. They must live and breathe dance.

When watching this production, it suddenly doesn’t matter if I’m not qualified enough to review it. It doesn’t matter if I’m not interpreting the story in the way the choreographers planned. All that matters is that the combination of the pulsating music and the movements of these talented human bodies is so completely mesmerising that I could sit and watch them for hours. It doesn’t matter what thoughts run through my head, or how therapeutic I find this to watch. I’m sure that every single person in that audience had different thoughts running through their head; their own interpretation and their own enjoyment. All I know is that it bloody worked! All I know was that it was amazing!  

Rambert 2: Mixed Bill - played at The MAC, Belfast on 22-23 February

Check out a trailer for Mixed Bill here

Who's Looking at you? ~ by Colm G Doran

Having thoroughly enjoyed several productions directed by Colm and one dance piece which he wrote the background script for, I was keen to go and see his latest piece of writing.

“Who’s Looking at You?” was performed in the Crush Bar at The MAC, Belfast.

The same trademark headphones from previous shows “Three Stories”, “Date Show” and “Date Show: After Dark” are being used, but this time, just one colour of headphone, meaning that the audience would all be listening to the same script throughout the production, rather than several stories going on at once.

We are seated in the bar, headphones on, awaiting the entrance from the actor(s).  A bar maid strolls by, pushing a bar trolley in front of her. I wonder if she is part of the performance. (She isn’t!) Then a woman appears, glammed up in her little black dress and red lipstick. Through my headphones, I can hear her thoughts. Here is our actress.

She sits at a bar table. A bottle of wine is resting in a wine cooler. Two empty glasses await the appearance of her and her date. We hear a beeping noise. She checks her phone. In her head she’s reading out his text. About the date, he can’t make it. His child is sick and vomiting, he will have to take a rain check.

Disappointed, she looks around her uncomfortably. She had already poured herself a glass of wine and now she is drinking alone.

Punters attending the MAC – possibly to see the ‘Oliver!’ in the main auditorium, or to dander around the art gallery, can’t help but look over at the woman drinking alone in the Crush bar. Albeit, they are probably noticing the string of blue headphone-wearing people watching her, but their curiosity adds to the authenticity. She is self-conscious, she is drinking alone. Who is looking at her?

I begin to realise that this performance will take the form of listening to our actor’s inner-most thoughts. Having not been out of the house for weeks, she decides to drink on. One glass, two glasses, three glasses, four. Within the space of her drinking, we listen to her reminiscing about the past, remembering childhood memories, recalling the moment she met her husband.

My attention starts to move around the bar – noticing the people coming and going, noticing the other people who are watching this piece also, wondering if the wine inside the glass is real or watered down Ribena. I begin to think how hard it must be to act this piece – when she can’t get up and stride around – when all she has to work with is facial movements.

And then something happens. Then the memories suddenly go to the death of the husband – only 8 weeks prior. And furthermore, we hear of what the husband was really like – abusive; one punch after the other. We are thrown into a memory where she is lying on the carpet trying to count the patterns on the carpet just to distract herself from the thump-thump-thump.

Tears spring to my eyes. That is the strength of this writing. That amidst the distraction of punters passing to and fro, despite the fact the actress can only work with facial movements, the writing is so powerful that it catapults us into another place which can stir so much emotion.

And somehow, somehow there happens to be comedy in the midst of this. The friend on the phone whose complaining about ‘the b*tch in the Jeep behind her, up her backside’ and the text from the vomit guy promising to stand downwind so she won’t experience the bad smell. And there are heart-warming moments too – the smile on her face when she realises the new guy is outside waiting for her; the possibility of new beginnings and moving on and potential happiness.

Bravo to Colm Doran on another fabulous production. I look forward to seeing more writing from this author! 

Who’s Looking At You? ~ Written by Colm G Doran

Performed on Sat 19 January 2019 – 3.30pm in the Crush Bar, The MAC

Presented by Prime Cut Productions as part of the ‘Revealed’ series