Straight White Men @ Southwark Playhouse

16.11.2021

Straight White Men, unsurprisingly, is a play which depicts a family of four straight white men. Three brothers performed by Charlie Condou, Cary Crankson and Alex Mugnaioni and their father, Simon Rouse, have come together at Christmas time. However, unlike most straight white men, they are a family with an intense interest in socio economic power structures, and spend their Christmas discussing their white male privilege, and what to do with it.

The play began with two queer black actors, Kim Tatum and Kamari Roméo, soundtracked by loud club music, introducing the show as one which centres around straight white men. They then reappear at several times throughout the show, forming the transition between scene changes, occasionally bursting into song, or helping to stage for the next scene. The show’s poster contains only the two black actors, so found it odd to see them so rarely featured in the piece. But, if intentional, this is a really witty way of highlighting exploitation of diversity for financial gain.

The set was, for the most part, naturalistic in style, depicting a family home, with photo frames on the wall, a fireplace with Christmas cards, and a stereo which was used throughout. Surrounding the living room set was what appeared to be the inside of a night club, with flashing neon lights and a black background. This allowed the start of the piece to feel very much like you were attending a queer night club, rather than a night at the theatre. However, I’m not sure why this experience was necessary, as though black and queer culture are supposed to be synonymous with club culture?

The acting from the straight white men of the piece was top quality; their bond as a family was believable, and at times poignant, covering topics of grief, mental health, and financial stability. Their roles as overgrown children were horribly relatable and laugh out loud funny. However, I found the performances of Kim Tatum and Kamari Roméo messy at times and I would’ve liked them to have gone further in their roles, so that their purpose could be better understood.

I found Straight White Men at the Southwark Playhouse comedic and poignant, presented in a thought-provoking (though not yet fully realised) way. I would like the show’s two elements feel less disjointed, although maybe that is the point?

Not Our Play @ Rosemary Branch Theatre

21.11.2021

Returning to the Rosemary Branch Theatre for another crafty piece, Not Our Play was a fun experience. Not Our Play is a piece written by anonymous (though clearly theatre minded) members of the public, and printed on stage at the start of the piece. It is then performed by two actors, who perform script in hand, with a third actor sat on stage reading the stage directions.

It goes without saying that this is not a refined piece of theatre, and it is naturally self aware. It introduces the cast as ‘the actors’ and continually refers to ‘the audience’, so if it is escapist theatre you’re after, this won’t be one for you. Its style feels a bit like a glorified read-through rather than a piece of theatre, but the wacky script content, which includes audience interaction and multi-role play, made it entertaining nonetheless. The quality of the acting was surprisingly good for the play’s unfinished nature, and the actors did an incredible job of leaping into each scene despite the fact they had no context. However, I did find their inability to keep a straight face in this undeniably funny piece, slightly frustrating. Not Our Play invites exploration of contemporary topics and has some real laugh at loud moments. I can see it working well at festivals and other touring events, but I’d say it is best enjoyed through the lens of a theatre background.

Not Our Play is a thought provoking, fun night for theatre enthusiasts who are looking for something a little different and less finalised.

The Outstanding Limited Series Emmy nominations are unified in shining a light on female and racial oppression but can they incite real change?

This article contains spoilers.

I was surprised when I saw that all of the Outstanding Limited Series nominations focus on either female or racial oppression, particularly as previous years Emmy’s have seen no such unification in theme. Although previous nominations such as Big Little Lies and When They See Us also discussed female and racial oppression, no other year has seen all the nominations include it. However, understanding art as a reflection of its time, it makes sense. The nominations suggest that each year of the last decade has become increasingly demanding of change, verified by the global #metoo and #blacklivesmatter movements. The arts are amping up their support of social dilemmas, the question is whether or not they can help bring change, or whether they are simply holding up a mirror.

The first, Mrs America, is an undisguised presentation of the history of female oppression, as it follows the women at the forefront of the 1970s America Equal Rights Amendment, or the ERA. Throughout the show we see how the women pushing the bill ‘suffer for the cause’, as they allow themselves to be felt up by my men in positions of authority, in order to get their backing. The most interesting feature of the plot, if it were not true, is its Republican anti-heorine, Phyllis Schlafly, whose STOP-ERA party grouped housewives against the bill. Phyllis argues the bill would disadvantage housewives, cause women to be drafted into the military and eliminate the tendency for mothers to obtain custody over their children in divorce cases. Ultimately indoctrinated by patriarchy, we see her repeatedly elbowed out of conversation with men in the workplace, who ask her to ‘take notes’ rather than share insights, as well as fight her husband on her right to study law, all without ever recognising the ERA plight. The show contrasts Schlafly’s private life with the private lives of the main ERA proponents, presenting her marriage as one of tradition and constraint while theirs, new wave and free. The most interesting character trajectory however comes from Alice Macray, Phyllis’ right hand woman. Alice aids Phyllis throughout, but is forced to reflect on their incessant opposition to the ERA, when she is unexpectedly enlightened at the liberal National Women’s Conference and learns of a fellow party members suffering in the home. The show’s documentary footage from the 1970s rallies and marches, reminds us that this isn’t just a drama, but history and the more recent footage reminds us that men and women are still not equal by law in America. It highlights the experience of women in 1970s America and their necessity of being attractive and compliant in order to gain recognition. But more importantly it celebrates, with a star-studded cast and beady eyed script, the women at the forefront of the movement, the sisterhood they formed and the leadership they showed. It is a great proof of the female battle and an unsurprising nomination for the Outstanding Limited Series award.

Unbelievable, by contrast, is primarily a detective series but, much like this year’s I May Destroy You, it spends an extraordinarily long time with the victims of sexual assault. It presents real female victims, not just the young, reckless and attractive ones we are told about in the media but also old, overweight and from mixed ethnicities. It presents two female detectives who work solidly on the case, as though their own safety depended on it, as they discuss the injustices in their own police departments and acknowledge the failings of male detectives in rape cases. The success of this series is due to its ability to properly reflect the complexities and realites of sexual assault, crime and policing. It is an american police drama devoid of ego or showmanship but with reflection and honesty. It faces up to the fact that there are criminals within American law enforcement and asks why, if as many women in the police department had hit their child, as men who had hit their wife, they would all be out of their jobs, while men remain. Sexual assault is shown not just as a crime, but as a life-altering and often life-destroying event particularly through its focus on its female protagonist, Marie Adler, who after having repeatedly fallen victim to the state, only has that used against her when reporting the crime. Unbelievable is not only the victim’s story, but a call for revision in law enforcement and social systems; it is about the oppressed and the oppressor equally.

The most focused conversation about feminism out of all the nominations, is Unorthodox as it spotlights women in Hasidic Orthodox Jewish communities, through its protagonist Esty. The series has been widely recognised as groundbreaking, but mostly due to the fact that it is primarily spoken in Yiddish and is the first of its kind to represent the Hasidic Orthodox Jewish community more broadly, even having its own ‘the making of’ documentary. Inspired by Deborah Feldman’s auto-biography The Scandalous Rejection of My Hasidic Roots, the plot shows the constraints placed on women inside strict Jewish communities. Constant scrutiny from her new husband’s family, which extends to her sexual and reproductive capabilities, leads Esty to seek a new life in Berlin. There she begins to experience the freedoms of life outside of the community, as she becomes inspired to pursue her dreams in music, which she was previously forbidden to practice. She also reunites with her mother who had been excommunicated when Esty was young, for refusing to conform. Through a shared enemy, the pair begin to rebuild their relationship as her mother seeks to prevent her from returning. If feminism is defined as a woman’s right to choose, Unorthodox shows Hasidic women are forced to exchange their communities, for autonomy. A revealing, focused and moving story of female isolation in religious communites.

Little Fires Everywhere bridges the gap in the nominations in that while it is undoubtedly feminist, in its focus on motherhood, it is primarily about race. The show explores the dynamic between a white mother, Elena Richardson, and black mother, Mia Warren, who become acquainted when Elena takes pity on Mia and her daughter Pearl and offers for them to live rent free in her apartment. Despite all her good intentions, Elena exhibits white saviourism, as she becomes dissatisfied when her charity isn’t met with enthusiasm. She offers Mia a job in her house on the assumption that she needs help and prides herself on fighting Mia’s daughter Pearl’s battles for her, but begrudges Mia when she is met with hostility. The show explores how racial biases do not stop at the parent -even in a progressing society -but is handed down through generations, as Lexie, Elena’s daughter, uses Pearl as a scapegoat when filing her abortion and gentrifies Pearl’s hardships in order to get into Harvard. The gnawing anxiety Mia experiences when she sees a police car, juxtaposed with Elena’s ability to rely on the police department for favours, is just one of the ways the show reflects on how whiteness contributes to an easier life. This is stated no more clearly however, than through a third mother, Bebe Chow, who after coming to America from China to give her daughter a better life, resulted in abandoning her at a fire-station due to poverty and post partum depression. Regretting her decision, Bebe searches for May- Ling but it is Mia, a colleague of Bebe, who informs her that May-Ling has since been adopted by a white American couple who are friends of Elena. Bebe, forced to fight for custody of her child in court, has her biological claim is pitched up against the benefits of finance and stability which the white couple offer. The jury assess what constitutes a good mother, in a world where white always wins. Little Fires Everywhere is an aptly timed discussion of racial bias and white privilege, during the biggest push for racial equality of the 21st Century, following the death of George Floyd.

Most surprising of all the nominees focus on oppression, is Watchmen, whose comic book series and 2009 film only ever partially addressed race and focused around white superheroes. Lindelof, the show’s creator, reimagines the world of Watchmen by placing it firmly within a discourse of racial oppression and white supremacy. Beginning with the depiction of the 1921 Tulsa Massacre, a significant incident of racial terrorism in American history whereby the ‘Black Wall Street’ was burned down by white supremacists, aided by the National Guard, the series makes its anchor in history a racism fuelled atrocity. Catapulted forward into the present, we are introduced to the current world through the eyes of an African American protagonist Angela Abar, whose alter ego Sister Night, is a caped heroine working for the police. This America, led by liberal president Redford, appears an improvement on our currently reality, as his agendas include reparations for black people, a Victims of Racial Violence Act and the Greenwood Center for Cultural Heritage, reconnecting black people with their ancestors. In this America, police officers mask themselves for their own protection and primarily work to fight masked white supremacists, known as the 7th Kavalry, descendants of the KKK. However, the noosing of Chief Judd, a white police officer, by a black man who claims to Abar’s grandfather, throws this narrative. Forced to ingest ‘nostalgia pills’ to fill the gaps in her past and discover the truth about her grandfather, Abar sees her grandfathers life following from the Tulsa Race Riots. Through her grandfather, we learn that apparent racial progress is just a veil to cover persisting white supremacy, as he discovers a secret white supremacist organisation known as Cyclops. Disillusioned with the justice system, he unexpectedly learns that if he is to take out white supremacists or real criminals, he would have to do that in a mask, rather than wearing a badge. Hence the beginning of the ‘hooded justice’. However, it becomes clear that Cyclops never disappeared but still includes leading members of the police and government who are working to try and inhabit Doctor Manhattan, to regain full control. While the world Lindelof uses is undoubtedly more fantastic than our own, he uses it to make powerful statements about the current state of America. By taking a real historical event such as the destruciton in Vietnam war and making it the work of super power Dr Manhatten, Lindelof likens white supremacy to the work of an evil super power. The greatest acheivement of the series, is that it takes the only superhero of colour from the original comic, the traditionally blue Doctor Manhattan and gives him a reason to be a black man. Watchmenreverses the trend of the ‘black villain’ by giving us not one, but three black heroes: Sister Night, Doctor Manhattan and Will Reeves against white supremacy. It even addresses the importance of children having a superhero who looks like them, as Angela’s childhood obsession with Sister Night grows because she ‘looks like her’. Therefore in creating three black heroes the show provides, just as Sister Night did for Angela, something for black children to admire.

It is clear that what this year’s best limited series’ nominations present is a world in much need of a revolution. Mrs America wakes us up to the fact that men and women still aren’t equal by law in America. Unbelievable acknowledges that most rape victims weren’t drunk or wearing too little and that male police officers could also be abusers, while Unorthodox highlights the isolation and restriction placed on women in Orthodox religious communities. Little Fires Everywhere discusses the acumulative effect of white privilege while Watchmen demonises white supremacy and celebrates blackness. Most unifying in the nominations is their sense of restlessness and as a viewer, this has to have an a cumulative effect. Much like an addict admitting they have a problem, the existence of these series are a proof of progress, in at least recognising the problem exists. I think most likely to isight change is Watchmen, in its use of shock factor as well as Unbelievable, as it provides a naturalistic, honest and informative depiction of sexual assault. Both of these series succeed in being informative and I think in the very least, will encourage reflection if not revision.

I May Destroy You- The first in a new wave of writing.

Photograph:BBC Pictures.

I May Destroy You is an eye opening focus on sexual assault following a young writer called Arabella and her group of friends. The story begins with Arabella attempting to complete a writing submission by morning, but she is quickly tempted into attending a night out with a male friend nearby. Sat back in the office the next day feeling hazy, she becomes suspicious when she realises she can’t remember smashing her phone or how she got back, beginning her investigation into what happened that night. As she comes to terms with her assault, the script explores it through the characters which surround her and it starts to feel as though trauma is lurking in every corner of society. I May Destroy You is a great piece of writing, one of many ‘firsts’ for the BBC, however it isn’t the strongest piece the BBC have produced.

A Representative Portrayal of Black London 
One of the most notable aspects of the piece is that Coel provides a relatable young black Londoner’s experience, as she soundtracks the series with black content creators and musicians. I May Destroy You reveals the failures of other BBC dramas; all too often they present only one dimensional black characters, involved with gang crime or living in poverty. Coel presents black people in positions of power and wealth, in creative work as well as in the traditional first generation home.

The Creative’s Struggle
It is clear from the writing that Coel is young and newly established, as she spends much of her time focusing on the young creatives struggle and the pain that often comes with freelance work. We see it in Arabella’s battle to stay as a commissioned writer while dealing with trauma and missing a formal education, as well as with her best friend Terry’s attempts to get cast for low level acting jobs. One of my favourite aspects of the whole series was seeing them ecstatic for Terry for finally landing a paid TV commercial, even though it was brief and cheesy. It is this that made me realise how rarely the BBC has reflected the young creative battle that so many are familiar with.

Sexual Assault 
Finally and most significantly, Coel discusses the many guises of sexual assault, as she educates the viewer in consent, through some grim but truthful scenes. I May Destroy You strays from the usual heteronormative portrayal of rape on screen, which spends little emotional time with the victims and assumes all the victims to be female. It instead presents a vulnerable society, where anyone could fall victim in a wide variety of ways. Most importantly the series places more focus on subsequent trauma, than on the event itself. From the millennial need to turn your trauma into ‘social media inspiration’, to pathetic art therapies, it explores the long term effect of sexual assault. Good and evil are constantly trading places as the lines between victim and perpetrator blur continually, showing that it isn’t as black and white as the media would often have you believe. The best discussion of trauma however, came in the ending which speaks to both the reality of most conclusions of sexual assault, as well as what real recovery from trauma looks like. Often it is not vengeance or ‘justice’, but letting go which is considered to be the best possible ending.

However, while Coel undoubtedly presents a powerful script filled with originality, the delivery lacked subtlety and flow. I found the throwing around of timelines amateur and the obviousness of the content frustrating. Everything being said was great, it just felt too forced. I May Destroy You is said to be ‘revolutionary’ and while Coel was certainly the first to bring such an inclusive portrayal of sexual assault and young person experience to the screen, her content is simply a reflection of millennial and gen- Z Twitter and Instagram feeds, moved into mainstream media. Although this is certainly a feat, and it is great to finally see social media discourse and TV merging, I think we can expect to see better dramas coming forward from the new generation of writers who are also familiar with this same online narrative. I May Destroy You is a season of firsts, but it certainly won’t be the last or the best executed.

7/10

Normal People @ BBC Three

Photograph: Enda Bowe/BBC/Element Pictures/Hulu

Adapted from Sally Rooney’s novel, I was anxious that the screen adaptation could not do justice to her honest and intimate style of writing. If you have read Sally Rooney’s novel you will know that this book is built solely on the bond between the two main characters; it’s unusual lack of plot has brought recognition in its ability to portray the complexities of modern relationships. It follows the ebbs and flows of their relationship with all its natural bumps containing no real climax. Naturally, then, as internal perspectives are an area which screen is so often lacking, I thought how could it possibly do it justice? Rooney’s novel would be just another click bait opportunity, capitalising on the popularity of the book but translating poorly on screen. A tamer Fifty Shades of Grey.

However, this piece is genius, regardless of whether you are watching afresh or as a fan of the book. It maintains all the intensity of the novel, mostly through silence, lighting and cinematography. I found myself holding my breath along with the characters in the scenes, an element rarely preserved when adapting from novels. In fact, the series makes apparent the void in teen/young adult screen, by contrasting the over-dramatised and belittled teen emotions often written by a detached fifty year old man behind a desk. The script unlike the far fetched land of Skins or Misfits, is placed in mundane ordinary experiences. It is a dramatisation of isolation, manifested in class structures, miscommunication and loss. Communication forms a heavy theme in the script as two elite communicators in the written form, struggle to put across their most basic desires verbally. When Jessa Crispin at The Guardian wrote ‘I was bored watching these very typical representations of college students doing very normal things ‘, I think she was forgetting the title of the book. This isn’t supposed to be a happening programme, it is revolutionary because it is an exact mirror of the young experience now but perhaps she has forgotten what it is like to be 20.

9/10

Mustang – film recommends.

Photograph: Allstar/Canal+

A tale of sisterhood.

This Turkish language film by Turkish-French film director Deniz Gamze Ergüven is set in a small village, near to Istanbul. The film depicts five orphaned sisters who live with their grandmother and presents their struggle growing up in a conservative society. The plot begins with typical childhood scenes of the girls on their way home from school, playing with a group of boys in the sea. When they reach home however, they are met with fury for bringing ‘shame’ on their family and are forbidden from leaving the house. The film is an aggressive discussion of female oppression in conservative countries, covering dark topics such as gender violence, assault and suicide. However, it is the friendship, rebellion and most importantly sisterhood, which makes this film so memorable.

A stunningly portrayed feminist work, 8/10.

The Dirty Thirty by Degenerate Fox

06.03.2020

Attending Degenerate Fox’s International women’s day piece at the Rosebranch Theatre, a member of the cast on the ticket booth chewing gum and shouting us in, set the tone for this less than usual production. Thirty, two minute pieces, the order of which is decided by the audience who are reading the plays off a ‘menu’. The pieces begin with the cast shouting ‘go’ and close with ‘curtain’. Asking the sound man if he is ready, shouting that they need certain props between pieces, there is no fourth wall in this chaotic piece. In this international women’s day special they focussed on a range of mini pieces, performed by it’s LGBTQ international cast. My favourite pieces were ones which focussed on trans issues such as the piece: ‘What we think of TERF’s’ where a TERF is represented by a glass of water which they treat as if it is infected before one of the cast member reluctantly edged towards the glass and chucked it through the door. Similarly, when discussing how it feels to be labelled something you are not, their cast member Jack held up a sign saying ‘woman’ and awkwardly tried to put it down a few times before reluctantly holding it and faking a smile. The piece was insightful and informative and the wide scope of the content reflected the diverse cast, covering broad topics such as sexual assault in Latin America, to listing inspirational women we might not have heard of. I’d love to see how their usual show compares to the factual nature of this piece. Admittedly, if you’re looking for high quality theatre, this isn’t it – the talent of the cast varies from what appears obviously trained actors to seemingly happy volunteers- but what it does provide is a fun show brimming with inclusivity. The cast could work on their conviction on delivery if they did wish to elevate this to a serious piece of theatre, however, I imagine as this was a special it may have been put together very quickly. I can see this company at festivals or as a fun, more boozy night out. If you are member of the LGBTQ community this company are ones to watch!

A Taste of Honey @Trafalgar Studios

29.02.2020

I caught the final performance of the National Theatre revived 1958 British classic A Taste of Honey at Trafalgar Studios, starring Jodie Prenger as Helen and Gemma Dobson as Jo. Walking in I was pleasantly surprised by the close nature of the auditorium, with only one tier you had to walk across the stage to reach the steps to your seat, as the cast were already on stage and the band played. This set the tone for the remainder of the play which felt very much like you were invading Helen and Jo’s flat in true kitchen-sink-drama style.

What I loved…

The comedy– It goes without saying that this piece is hilariously witty and real. Set in the North West of England it follows the relationship of two working class women, a mother and daughter, through the average to low times. Constant arguments and near bust ups, dating and parenthood the piece is a real discussion of the working class at that time.

Gemma Dobson’s performance– I find it unsurprising she won the Best Actress in a Play at The Stage Debut Awards in 2018, after having seen this performance. Originally from Leeds she had an easy transition to the Salford accent and her portrayal of sassy but compassionate Jo was both comedic and believable. Although I loved the dynamic between her and Jodie, her relationship with gay best friend Geof where she showed vulnerability and compassion, allowed her to show the depth of her abilities as an actress. Her talent matched the complexity of the script and stood out in an already talented cast.

The music – It seems as though integrating musicians within the set is a popular trend at the minute, changing the landscape of West-End theatre from the traditionally separate orchestra and cast dynamic. The instruments, much like in Girl From The North Country and Come From Away were present on stage at all times and both the piano and the drum kit were interacted with by the cast; it was an odd recognition of being a theatre piece. This time the music made the piece feel earthy, adding to the relaxed atmosphere of the living room it could have just been a record player.

If I had to moan – It seemed unusual to me that half the cast didn’t have Salford accents. It seemed this couldn’t have been a style choice to make Helen and Jo stand out, as Geof also had a Salford accent. Was this there way of making it more relatable, opening it up to the rest of the country? Or could they simply not hire enough northern actors? Either way I found that aspect of the piece confusing.

Incredible script, cast and staging. Hilarious throughout.

Drop Dead Gorgeous @ VAULT Festival by the SAME SAME Collective

01.02.2020

Drop Dead Gorgeous is a darkly comic exploration of femininity and appetite by four women from the UK, India and Taiwan. The performance lies somewhere between a dance and performance art, with no dialogue whatsoever, as a table bearing fruit forms the centre piece of the action. In that sense Drop Dead Gorgeous is a visual discussion of femininity and its conflict with appetite, presenting a form of hunger I can certainly relate to.

The piece as a satire...

The piece successfully presents a comedic criticism of the universal tropes of femininity through both action and staging. Beginning with just the spotlight lit table, in a brief moment where the lights go out, the women hidden underneath the table appeared seemingly from nowhere. This felt indicative of the idea of women being ‘seen but not heard’ as they appear noiselessly, a trope which was continued throughout the piece, broken only by the occasional graceful sigh performed in unison. The set design was mostly beautiful, a pure white table cloth laid with colourful fruit, stood on pure white flooring. This perfection was mirrored in the women both in costume design, as they stood in their neat matching floral dresses and in accuracy of movement as their dance was timed to perfection. They appeared serene, controlled and delicate to the point of being comedic. Gradually they incorporated the fruit, beginning by gracefully selecting a grape each and including it in the routine. However, as the interaction with the fruit increased the unison of their movement began to break, first by selecting differing fruits, before comedically stuffing their faces until finally the piece digressed into a kind of animalistic feeding ground. They hoarded fruit, stole from one another and devoured all in sight. In this sense food acts as a means through which women cannot appear delicate and faultless.

The Set and how it supported the critique

The piece was performed in-the-round with audiences on all sides amplifying the sense in which the women were on show. Even when they did enact their appetitive desires, the majority of this was done under the long dangling cloth served as a mask to their eating. By the time they divulged into pure animalistic behaviour the table had visually broken into quarters, providing a symbolism of their societal mask slipping, revealing expectations of female bodies as idealistic.

If I had to moan…
My only real complaint was that it was so short. I would’ve loved for them to have taken this further.

The Same Same Collective are ones to watch for multi-cultural political performance art. I found Drop Dead Gorgeous a laugh out loud piece; current and thought provoking it is in tune with works such as ‘Women Don’t Owe You Pretty’. To catch them again they will be back at the London Vault festival on the 15th of February.

Girl from the North Country @Gielgud Theatre

11.01.2020

The musical that doesn’t feel like one.

Accompanying my mum to Girl from the North Country on the basis that it ‘has Bob Dylan music in it’, I had no preconceptions as to what it would be like and even though I knew it had been well received, I was taken aback by the ingenuity of the piece. GFTNC is categorised as a musical so predictably music is a central component, however it felt more like a kitchen sink drama come concert in comparison to thoroughgoing musicals such as Come From Away. Set in an American guesthouse in 1934, the play concerns itself with family issues; infidelity, illness and finance consume the plot. Within this the music acts as a kind of melancholic soundtrack, distinct from yet descriptive of the scenes. The most thorough performance came from Katie Brayben who played Elizabeth Laine, the mentally ill wife of the house owner. She convincingly inhabited the illness both in its comedic and frightening moments. Gloria Obianyo who played Marianne stood out as the best vocalist, as her soulful voice was more like a blues artist than your typical west-end performer.

The Set Design reflected its genre.

The design of the set was both naturalistic and abstract. The band was present throughout the show positioned upstage right, always in view but separate from the scenes amplifying the intrusion of the music into what, in terms of writing, could have been an ordinary play. A piano, downstage right appeared naturalistic and was used throughout the scenes mostly by Elizabeth while a drum kit, downstage left was visually out of place and was used solely as an instrument throughout the songs. It too was played by the actors (rather than members of the band) but this only brought you further away from the action, as it was so unusual to see members of the cast featuring in the musicianship. Similarly, ordinary guest house furniture such as a table and chairs and a kitchen sink were in keeping with the naturalistic script, however the spacing gave it an abstract feel as elements of the set, such as the sink, were rarely interacted with and acted more as ornaments. The most unique thing about the set, however, was the large screen revealed a third of the way into the production, which displayed an image of the nearby lake. It is unclear if this was supposed to be a modernistic representation of a window but as it was only introduced later in the production and occasionally it would show a laneway rather than the lake, I assume not. I think the purpose was to enable you to grasp the setting in a way which was going to juxtapose the naturalism, to distance you further from the scenes but more than that its purpose was to provide a backlight so that during the vocal numbers, members of the cast could stand close to screen and be mere silhouettes. It was thrilling to watch.

A genius piece so much more than an ode to Bob Dylan.

9/10