Review: Available Light, Palace Theatre

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Image: JJ Tiziou

Available Light by Lucinda Childs, Frank Gehry and John Adams;

performed by The Lucinda Childs Company

Palace Theatre, Manchester; part of Manchester International Festival [07.07.17]

Edging forward. Black. Red. White. Two quartets and a trio. This is what silence sounds like.

A repeated phrase occurs constantly. Duets, trios and quartets of dancers complete the phrase in cycles. Changing direction is juxtaposed against moments of static. There’s a techno xylophone vibe in the air and we watch the phrase repeated again and again. Different groupings moving completely in sync, commencing the sequence at different times. And then it elapses.

This is more like a pause than a fermented stop. It’s like the moment that you spend waiting for a lift to start moving or for a programme to buffer on I-player. This moment is minuscule in the grand scheme of things and usually a pocket of time that we would miss or flit away. Yet baring witness to stillness is something we rarely have the opportunity to subject ourselves to. We don’t get to hover in time and watch movements in their infancy transpire from fine to gross: it is not a privilege that comes with modern life. Pace moves much faster than we do and we’re left in a cycle of aspiration and failure to keep up. Each time we observe the same eloquent phrase, it is not merely to display technique. It is to bring us into consciousness and ask us to question all the moments in our lives that may well be mundane, linear and robotic.

Following suit is compulsive. We cannot help but respond to the storm in a teacup that reflects going through the motions. Moving together in unison brings power but standing still surrounded by organised, regimented chaos demands a certain sort of composure. But that is a state that is not easily acquired when perched on a pedestal that is somewhat out of sync with its surroundings.

There’s an urgency, an increased systole-diastole dynamic in sound. It’s almost irrelevant whether you are stopping or starting because what if state you’re in your experience is shared. It’s part of a greater movement.

Available Light is as much about stagnated progress as it is about transitioning forward, and stillness. Red lights give bodies a golden statuesque complexion, whilst white lights soften the heat to a pale bronze. A wake up call to reality. We come into this space along. Exist both together and separately. Then leave alone.

Verdict: This was a very unique piece of dance and for that it should be commended. Possibly not one for anyone with very wayward attention, though I have the attention span of a flea and was with this all the way. Original, thrilling and conscious.

 

 

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Review: Table Manners, Hat Fair

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Table Manners by Avant Garde Dance

Hat Fair, Winchester [01.07.17]

*Review produced as part of Hat Fair Young Critics

A couple are sitting in a restaurant. We are aware that something needs to be said and that there is both a reluctance and awkwardness about this unspoken segment. A waiter is a third wheel, ever so keen to lose the tricycle scenario and form a bicycle with the woman in pink. We have a triangle upon us. Drinks are poured aplenty. Polite table politics soon become disembodied into questioning and exploring relationship dynamics and cultural shifts. Manners aren’t always in need of minding.

Table Manners is an energised, honest and compelling piece of dance that encourages us to reflect on the habitual behaviours that surround food and mealtimes and, how such behaviours can be reflected within our wider world relationships and our feelings towards ourselves. This is a work of dance-theatre that transcends the boundaries of the audience being mere observers and invites us into a space that is constantly transforming and changing its rules of etiquette. From Brexit banter to self-service checkout debuts, this is a world in which what happens physically and what is said can both complement and defy each other simultaneously.

What is quite captivating about Tony Adigun’s choreography is the importance of moments in their many shapes and the silent discussion that they introduce and manipulate through movement and occasional break off interactions with audience members. It is not often that dance theatre welcomes audiences to partake in the world and still be exposed to the same level of powerful dance performance almost in their lap. Performers Duwane Taylor, Julie Minaai and Sasha Shadid are attentive to audience participants and invite them to live in the world in a shared, intimate environment.

Dance theatre provides a platform to open dialogue and make reference to societal situations that are avoided, sidelined or misunderstood. Through movement, music and pockets of language, Table Manners invites us to acknowledge the harsh reality of colonialism and how it is still able to rampantly white wash experiences. We see Julie eating Chinese take away with a piece of East Asian music playing in the background. This is soon drowned out by the blaring of Rule Britannia overhead. This was a striking and powerful moment that truly laid bare the reality of how even eating a meal has become a specimen for British modification. This moment was visually striking and poignant and reminded me of Seeta Patel’s brilliant dance piece, Not Today’s Yesterday.

Speaking of captivating moments, watching Duwane and Sasha frantically nestle clementines in the folds and cuppings that Julie creates with her body is rather beautiful. Given that citrus fruits symbolise good fortune for a new year within Chinese culture, it is interesting that Julie’s two love rivals wish to inundate her with an overflowing gifting of clementines, which by the end of her ordeal she no longer wants. Sometimes we’re placed into situations where we are given a lot and expected to want and be grateful for what we have been presented with but, this removes a sense of freedom and agency around what happens to us. This is a moment that allows us to reflect on choice focused moments in our lives. It is quite unlike anything I have seen in dance theatre before and for that reason, it will certainly hold a place in my memory for ways to welcome an emotional response in an unconventional and unique manner.

Verdict: Table Manners is a welcome party to a platter of behaviour patterns surrounding food and human relationships. The strength of cultural reference points juxtaposed against the pastel costume palette allows for us to focus on the multiple narratives at play whilst appreciating the visual synergy of complimentary colours and off the chain physicality. Avant Garde Dance are a company I look forward to seeing much more of.

 

 

 

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Review: Mr Lucky’s Party, Hat Fair

 

avanti-1000x500Mr Lucky’s Party by Avanti

Hat Fair, Winchester [30.06.17]

*Review produced as part of Hat Fair Young Critics

 

There is a set up that resembles a café. Think Allo Allo but, on a patch of grass. I’m five minutes late due to getting a little lost on the way from the last show I watched to this location. There’s a man looking as though the world is about to end (and so last moments may as well be spent being irritated about it) standing at the counter. Weaving in and out of the audience, we have an elderly man draped in a sodden Inspector Gadget style raincoat. He wears a glum look and is carrying an umbrella that is truly making it rain about him. As he passes me, I to experience the downpour that is following him with more cling on strength than a shadow. I’m not drenched but rather wet – note to self: don’t be late to a performance, you will end up covered in water.

This elderly man is Mr Lucky and it’s his birthday. There are no balloons in sight but hey, at least he’s in the café and out of the rain. But of course, he heads to a parasolled table and the rain starts again. Yep, it’s his lucky day that’s for sure. He proceeds to attempt to have tea with a woman who is unimpressed by his water attraction skills. She didn’t ask him to make it rain and so, she’s not about to fake amusement. SPOILER: But, like all charming, comedic shorts. Mr Lucky gets the gyal in the end (yay).

Avanti have successfully crafted a comedic short that in part harks back to the days of Laurel & Hardy, yes remains within the remit of the modern world via Great British Bake Off undertones. This is not just a piece of theatre about bad luck and hope saving the day. Avanti have offered us an insight into aging and the loneliness that this can impose on us. It’s also about finding and feeling love in the most unexpected settings and being okay with that happening. Mr Lucky bears a wonderful resemblance to Mr Ben but with the potential to be an extra in Carry On Cabby. He wants a change and on his birthday he’s going to do something about it. I’m sure many of us have written too many bucket lists that have often been triggered by fears around aging and not having achieved enough or used our time wisely. Mr Lucky encourages us to act in the now and throw caution to the wind because there’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t have a go at reaching for what you truly desire.

The cast delivered a strong comedic performance with intention and nuances within their subtle physicality and each of them can lip synch like an absolute trooper.

… in to each life some rain must fall, but too much has fallen in mine…

Verdict: Happy birthday Mr Lucky and thank you for inviting me to your ‘getting your shit together/there’s nothing wrong with being ambitious’ party.

 

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Review: Amami!, Hat Fair

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Amami! by Mc Fois

Hat Fair, Winchester [30.06.17]

*Review produced as part of Hat Fair Young Critics

There’s a man standing in a suit was fashioned out of the most garish pair of curtains you could possibly find (Maria eat your heart out girl, those play clothes ain’t got nothing on this). He decides he’s thirsty and tries to silently negotiate with the girl sitting next to me to have some of her water. She declines his pleas and offers of monopoly-esque money and eventually he takes the hint. Possibly having taken the hump (it’s not even Wednesday), he encourages an audience member to pretend to be a bull and he is the matador. What follows of course is a rather amusing display.

After a few more audience pursuits, the show really begins. Mc Fois delivers an incredible display of acuity and bodily articulation whilst bringing three hats to life. The scene has humour and pace that gives Mc Fois the ability to mesmerise the audience with ease… and no hats dropped. This spectacle is only heightened by a partial striptease to a cover of Sex Bomb that sounds oddly similar to the Monster Mash and, Mc Fois emerging from behind a chest dressed as a ballerina. A lucky audience member is then invited to dance with and propose to our blushing dancer and for a moment, it’s like we’re in a real time, extra hairy version of Disney’s Fantasia.

Mc Fois also offers us an exceptionally skillful performance with a diabolo. The sequence is delivered with incredible control and a unique artistry that weaves it into the larger narrative at play. We get a little more stripping later to the glory that is You Can Leave Your Hat On and a broken hearted goodbye to Unchained Melody. And no Gareth Gates in sight!

Verdict: Amami! is an amusing and clever piece of physical theatre that allows an audience to reflect on what desire really means. It also has the best soundtrack that I’ve heard in a piece of theatre for quite some time. Mc Fois is definitely worth seeing this weekend.

 

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Review: How I Hacked My Way Into Space, Hat Fair

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How I Hacked My Way Into Space by Unlimited Theatre

Hat Fair, Winchester [30.06.17]

*Review produced as part of Hat Fair Young Critics

We are sitting outside the Space Shed. And for a moment, I feel like I’m about to experience a live, space-themed version of Nina and the Neurones (which would be a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon). There’s some serious build up, almost a good twelve minutes worth but, part of that of course is due to a late start. Visually not much is happening but, there’s lots of space jargon being chucked about by an unknown voice. Lift off is taking some time but, we’re getting there. Some smoke shoots out of the bottom of the shed and then the music kicks in, something similar to a high speed version of the Octonauts theme tune. And finally, a spaceman arrives in time for lift off. A cross between Fireman Sam and Flash Gordon, Jon Spooner welcomes us into the Space Shed.

We’re inside and well it’s like being in a low-tech, not time travelling, tiny tardis. Jon opens his story enigmatically, telling us about his school years, fears and dreams and, telling us just how much he wants to go to space. We’re about to here how Jon hacked his way into space. And what happens when someone’s about to bend your ear? They do the quintessentially British thing of putting on the kettle… followed by spritzing some water over a few plants. From here on in, Jon will be referred to as Big Jon and his miniature plastic sidekick, Little Jon.

What ensues is a lot of toing and froing between conversations between Big Jon and Little Jon (welcome to their cafe space shed) and Big Jon on the phone to numerous people ranging from Tim Peake to the European Space Agency to his wife. The phone calls are a plenty and whilst the idea behind these interactions is clear, they take too much of this piece of theatre outside of the theatrical world that it is residing in. This level of external activity causes said world to develop cracks and this weakens the overall experience. I wonder if it may have been more engaging for Jon to have performed the conversations – with him playing both participants. He did this at one point to illustrate a conversation that he and Tim had had. A little more of this to replace the phone’s starring role could have made this piece much more exciting and humorous. Given those conversations legs would have also given this piece more immediacy and allowed it to move with an exciting pace. The distancing in this piece made it feel quite long on top of the fact that it was already running 20 minutes over time.

Verdict: How I Hacked My Way Into Space is a show with great potential and is highly educational. However, this rocket didn’t quite make it off the ground unfortunately.

 

 

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Review: Ode to Leeds, West Yorkshire Playhouse

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Ode to Leeds by Zodwa Nyoni

West Yorkshire Playhouse, Leeds [22.06.17]

Trying to find your way with a broken compass for a heart… my body is a country I fled a long time ago…

Welcome to Leeds. A city in which daily life gives young wordsmiths ammunition to write and craft meanings within a metaphorical landscape. A city in which words are able to unite people who walk different paths a daily. A city that is a home, a home to: Queenie, Mack, Darcy, Devika and Theo. We join the quintet as they prepare to compete at Brave New Voices in the States. Their journey is reflective of the real experiences of young people today, stretching from young carers and broken homes, to falling in love and just trying to get lucky. There is a very obvious kinesis between the characters lives that is beautifully tied together through their words and the large scale google maps style invitation to specific corners of Leeds.

Zodwa Nyoni’s Ode to Leeds is as much about Leeds, as it is about poetry. What Zodwa has successfully managed to do is craft a narrative that is both accessible and realistic. Each of the characters have been created with such an honesty that every young poet who watches this will observe each character and be reminded of someone they know. Or in my case, a poet I know. Zodwa has managed to carefully develop her characters so that they are individuals and so that there is distinctions between their poetic voices – the latter of which is quite an impressive achievement.

The poetry within this piece humoured me often. There’s something about listening to slam poetry when you’re no longer part of that community that really takes you back to a time when you were much younger and energised in a very different way. A time when you lived and breathed poetry and, writing with your collective was the most important point of the week. Watching each other perform and giving each other clicks when lines were absolute fire and whoever was on stage had either moved you to tears of sadness and tears of laughter. Talking and chanting and rhyming about what mattered (with the classic poet’s intonation pattern) and loving life whilst you did it. Darcy’s love poem to Theo riffed with Devika’s identity challenge is a reminder that when young poets speak, they speak of what they know and what they know they want the world to hear.

But, it is Queenie’s poem that is the stand out moment in this piece of theatre. Emotively performed by Genesis Lynea, this poem moved in a way that it felt as though the narrative had known me my whole life. There was talk of the continued attempt to make oneself palatable, angry black girl syndrome (always diagnosed by those who are not black girls) and displacement from home. Only truly honest poetry can fill a theatre and silence everyone in the room so that their breathing is merely an accompaniment to the language.

SPOILER ALERT…

Whilst this piece was brilliantly crafted, I was slightly confused following Queenie’s poem by the sudden realisation that Darcy had died and wondered if I had missed a trick. Maybe we were meant to be surprised or maybe we were meant to locate a trail of clues (which I had clearly missed). Despite being a bit confused though, I feel that the poetry Zodwa has written in this piece, whilst having its own intentions, is able to permit audience members to journey wherever they please with it. And that in itself, on reflection, more than balances out a little bit of confusion.

Verdict: In the space of 2 hours, Zodwa allowed me to relive seven years of the rise and fall of my life in poetry. This is the sort of play that every poet needs to see. It’s also the sort of play that creates a window of opportunity for non-poets to observe the the world of poetry and slam culture and the space of young people within that. Yes, Zodwa did a good job.

 

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Review: 27, Contact

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Image: Oliver Rudkin

27 by Peter McMaster

Contact, Manchester [21.06.17]

It’s dark. There are two men in glow in the dark skeleton onesies. I think a Nirvana song is playing (it’s not Smells Like Teen Spirit so who knows). Pitch black. Silence. A glow. We are then asked to imagine a woman. A woman who is laying on her side whilst giving birth. The woman is Peter’s mother.

27 is not just a story about growing into a 27 year old man. I feel that if this were the case, I’d likely have not been able to relate with the piece because a) i’m not 27 yet b) i’m not a man and c) i’m not white. 27 however does something quite special in that it is able to transcend these states and their associated experiences and deliver a series of time conscious moments that encourage us to reflect on ourselves. In hearing Peter and Nick’s journeys from birth to their 27th year, we participate in what can only be described as a game of snakes and ladders in which no one is sure of who is rolling the dice. Everything from successfully lodging a marble up your nose to first attempts at masturbation and relationships to your mother reading your diary are a plenty in these honest journeys through time.

To the surprise of many audience members, we are each asked to assist either Peter or Nick in undressing. Those sat on the peripheries of the horseshoe seating arrangement are tasked with assisting with the unzipping of the onesies and pulling of sleeves and, those of us sat towards the middle are tasked with removing the bottom half of the onesie. In my case, the chosen action was firm grip and a quick tug and down come the bottoms… it’s always interesting when you put a naked body in a space (or in this case two). The state of vulnerability in the room drastically changes and it can become hard to know who feels more vulnerable: the actors or the audience. When Peter and Nick invite the audience to touch their bodies and invite themselves to sit and lay on audience members, they are met with mixed reactions. Everything from laughter, to avoidance, to just not knowing how to react is expressed by audience members.

The only time I find bare bodies particularly amusing is when watching The Full Monty. External to this, I often feel that I am witnessing the greatest piece of art in existence and this applies to all bodies no matter what they look like. Scenarios such as this remind me of the first time I went to a life drawing class and on that day I felt like it was the first time I had truly seen another person. Peter and Nick welcomed us to see them.

They then engaged in quite a full on, rough and tumble fight (Catherine Cookson eat your heart out) around the floor. I have to say I hadn’t expected to spend my Wednesday evening watching two men rolling around the floor in some cocoa powder-esque sand… I usually spend this time at a writers workshop. Chuck in a splash of Wild Horses with no Susan Boyle in sight and mate, you’re on to a winner here.

What follows is a cascade of a phone call to Peter’s mother, a falling dominoes scenario where the men catch each other and a barrage of apologies for bad decisions. In watching Peter and Nick take each other’s weight truthfully and then swap roles to fall into their next moment, we as an audience, are given a rude awakening to the repetitive nature of life and exposed to the importance of brief moments and the beauty of their short lifespan. 27 reminds us that whatever age we are, we a changing and we are choosing but, most importantly that we are living and that whether you make the right choice or the wrong choice, the thing that truly matters is the journey along the way.

Verdict: 27 is an honest and witty piece of storytelling that creates a shared vulnerability and window of self exploration within a theatre space. Worth experiencing.

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Review: What If I Told You, Royal Exchange

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Image: West Yorkshire Playhouse website

What If I Told You by Pauline Mayers

Royal Exchange, Manchester [19.06.17]

Enter the empty space. Leave your belongings beside the wall – you will not be needing them. Form a circle. There’s something quite wholesome about it. And your evening has begun.

Pauline Mayers’ What If I Told You (WIITY) is an exploration of life as a black woman in the performance world and beyond, delivered through storytelling, movement and tableux. This immersive experience places the audience within Pauline’s story but also allows us to revisit our own life experiences. This is a work that focuses on each of us being present, a necessary component of having access to the many truths of the piece.

Pauline invites us to play, embrace one another, see each other and hear her truth. WIITY is a historical playground that illustrates the bullying and abusing of black women’s bodies through time. We are exposed to the harsh truths of experiments conducted on black women by Dr J. Marion Sims in the name of gynaecology and told the names of three of the black women he experimented on: Anarcha, Betsy and Lucy. This alongside the flooding of ‘Black Lives Matter’ chanting, highlights the true war that has been and still is upon black bodies in the Western world. Pauline invites us into a space that contains black pain but she does not turn this into a spectacle. She acknowledges these experiences with a truthfulness and encourages us to reflect on how and why these events are occurring.

These narratives are weaved into Pauline’s personal experiences. She tells us of her journey from childhood to girlhood to adulthood. When she describes her audition for the Rambert School, she talks of how she has the shortest legs of all of the girls in the room. And for a moment, this brings up a memory I have from modelling. I remember being stood in a room with nine other girls who’s legs basically went up to my shoulders. And then I remember, the dodgy comments made about my thighs, nose and lips.

Back in the room and I feel even more connected to Pauline. This is likely in part due to the conversation we had over the phone where we discussed the way in which black women’s bodies are othered in theatre and the wider world. But it is also in part due to Pauline having the incredible ability to blur the edges between the theatrical play space she has created and the world outside of the studio.

Listening to Pauline’s journey through the arts world has given me hope. Her story is one that young black women should experience. It is unfortunately not often that you find a black woman in a space telling her story, talking about the challenges of her journey and absolutely smashing it. This is exactly what we need more of.

This piece ends with the audience being present and moving across the space and engaging with each other via a look or an embrace. At this point, I will admit I became quite disengaged. For me, physical contact is something to only be shared with those I am close to. I initially felt unsettled watching people hug each other and spent the next day questioning why that was. I do not have a conclusion yet but, I know this was a unique moment in which people were able to just be, together.

Verdict: What If I Told You is wonderful piece of storytelling that allows us to step into Pauline’s shoes and those of black women in history. Through measured physicality and emotive and engaging storytelling, we are able to truly be present with Pauline and explore our own narratives alongside hers. Go see it at Edinburgh Fringe this summer!

 

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Interview: Pauline Mayers on…

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Image: West Yorkshire Playhouse Website

It’s Monday morning.

This time last week, I had a conversation with Pauline Mayers about her currently touring show What If I Told You, perceptions of black women’s bodies in arts spaces and the wider world and, what it’s like being a person of colour in a white dominated industry.

Pauline on… art and defining herself as an artist

I define art as a means of being able to see the world in a different way, to explore the world through a different door, a different approach to life, different places and different times.

Pauline highlighted how art provides the space for you to express yourself in a way that you cannot in other spheres. It creates more avenues and connections, with the self and the wider world.

Regarding defining oneself as an artist, Pauline does not place herself in a box. She is a lover of reading, research, finding things out; she loves to evolve. Pauline describes herself as a risk taker, agent provocateur and artistic revolutionist.

 

Pauline on…working as a black woman in theatre and dance

Pauline has danced for many years all over the world  – she always wanted to express herself. She described the ongoing commentary on her black body and stressed what appears to be the obvious in that, we all have bodies. Change needs to come surrounding perceptions of black bodies in space but we are not yet at that point. The same goes for listening to black narratives, Pauline spoke of the disbelief in her experiences that occurs within theatre spaces and how audiences doubt her truth because it is not within their repetoire of experiences. Pauline owns her story when she shares it in a performance space because it is her truth. It is unfortunate that POC do not get to own performance spaces often.

She shared her refusal to perform for Black History Month and her disappointment at the last minute nature of programming for this month and Black theatre seasons.

We also touched the importance of being able to see yourself reflected in the theatre, especially as it is such a white dominated space and that a change needs to come. Pauline mentioned her participation in Eclipse’s SLATE Project. She described how the focus on process was something she had not experienced in a long time and how such experiences are rarely available for artists of colour.

Pauline on… the experience of POC in theatre and beyond

POC are rarely listened to, when discussing their experiences there is always a caveat of ‘oh yes, but…’ and never a moment of ‘I hear you’. Pauline who has trained as a counselor highlights that POC are less likely to participate in Talking Therapies and that comes from not being able to speak their truth and always being challenged. Their psychological injuries are sidelined.

Pauline on…POC as emerging artists 

Pauline described an experience she had when presenting a piece of work and an onlooker expressed surprise that her piece was so well rounded. Having huge amounts of experience, after 30 years in the business it should look professional, Pauline exclaims.

POC are brilliant at doing many things at the same time. However, POC are too frequently boxed off as emerging artists, which creates two problems: a stagnation of progression and POC all competing with each other for a platform. Why are we all fighting for one space? Why are we having to take someone out in order to have artistic space?

Whilst opportunities are few and far between, we then face the battle of longevity and siustainability. Pauline states that theatres need to be talking to artists and finding out what they wantUnemployment is a huge issue for artists of colour – where are the sustained work opportunities?

Pauline on…What If I Told You and what’s next

What If I Told You is a calling card,  a reminder that she cannot give up on this artist thing. It’s a part of her DNA. Within this she highlights the importance of accepting the lows but focusing into the work and how this allows you to settle into your calling. She believes it is essential that we spend more time with ourselves and reflect on what it is to be human. By doing such reflections, she wonders if the world would be less divided.

She intends to continue creating work and building the Mayers Ensemble. Alongside this, she would like to continue working collaboratively and venture into directing.

 

What If I Told You is on at the Royal Exchange on Tuesday 20th June and then moves to Edinburgh Fringe, performing between 11-26th August.

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Review: Jetlag, The Arts Centre

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Image: Thomas Barlatier, Tristan Galand and Yves Kerstius

Jetlag by Compagnie Chaliwaté

The Arts Centre, Liverpool [27.05.17]

Three passengers to be, waiting in the departures lounge. One hyper-synchronised couple. One lone man. A seat giving up on its join and tipping said man onto the floor. An awkward yet valiant attempt to fix said seat back on to the others. A decision to re-attach seat back to front. A need to be a sheep and mirror the seated couple. And so, we begin.

Jetlag is an almost language-free, physical and visual exploration of airport etiquette, loneliness, missing mothers and the dreaded Third Wheel syndrome. Through a blend of circus, gesture and dance theatre, Chaliwaté an unusual yet honest exploration of what it means to be alone and to be displaced from the world around you. We are invited to be a fly on the wall and observe a man who is lost and searching for some sort of affection but, most importantly, validation. It is the moments of silence and stillness within this piece that really make this piece relateable. We are reminded of times in our own lives when we have felt completely alone despite being in the presence of others. And there is something quite cathartic about having this time to reflect on this state both as an individual and collectively as an audience.

Jetlag is a very humorous piece of theatre that offers its audience tableaux and moments that would easily put Mr Bean to shame. Gags are well timed and delivered playfully, often using changes of lighting and circus performance to provide the audience with a mish-mashed palette of experiences that left many of the audience laughing aloud. Chaliwaté successfully delivered an array of quintessentially “British problems” with an original twist highlighting that awkwardly asking people to stand up whilst you pass them and struggling to establish use of your arm rest are in fact just general awkward people problems. And to top this off, whilst the couple are sleeping on the flight and the man tries to climb over them, they resemble Grant Wood’s American Gothic being exposed to the joys of flying by Ryan Air. Absolute comedy gold!

The attention to detail with the physicality of this piece makes it an engaging and exciting spectacle for its audience. Each gesture is nuanced and delivered with intent and in a piece that doesn’t depend on language this is crucial for it to work. Through embraces, caresses, lifts, the folding of clothes and beautiful unison phrases, we are successfully taken on a journey with these lovable yet slightly odd characters.

Verdict: Jetlag is a captivating piece of physical theatre that could easily be delivered in complete silence, as the cast are able to bring humour, emotion and a truthfulness to their performance. This has certainly been an insightful experience for developing my own practice. Definitely worth seeing!

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