The Wonderful Flop of Dissocia...

I have reviewed a number of plays on this blog, some huge die-hard acts that played a stint in London's West End and a couple of small-scale but undeniably fabulous affairs, but I have never felt the need to write about one that I did not enjoy wholeheartedly.
This possibly has a lot to do with the fact that I have never been so appalled by a piece of theatre in all my life, I mean, "Chaucer Lives" at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was so bad it was hilarious and Sarah Kane's "Blasted" did make me feel violently ill, but I have never walked out on a piece of theatre half way through the performance...until yesterday.

I've got to be honest, even before I went I was aware that 'In-Yer-Face' theatre is not my style. I don't like performing in it, I don't particularly like watching it and I certainly don't like I having to spell it like a dyslexic orangutan. I find much of the theatre I've seen in this style is self-appreciative and designed to inflict nightmares upon the audience disguised as a supposedly-powerful and metaphorical message. I believe the likes of Sarah Kane are to theatre what Tracey Emin is to art; in short, glorified polluters.
However, last year I saw "A Wonderful World of Dissocia", directed by Danny Price, at the Sundial Theatre, with the college's own student-populated Youth Theatre. Now, admittedly, goat-rape isn't my favourite thing in the world, but the production was directed with an obvious passion and succeeded in juxtaposing the first act, where there was a laugh for every other line, with the heartbreaking second act so effectively that I was truly drawn in to the whole production.

The reason for all this waffling is that I have an unconditional offer from London South Bank University. Thankfully, I decided to do the clever thing and go to see a production put on by the second years, just to see what I could and should be doing in a year or two. They were putting on a production of "A Wonderful World of Dissocia" and I thought it would be a great opportunity to compare it to my previous experience with the play.
I don't think I've ever been so disappointed in my entire life.
It lacked humour, basic acting technique, all elements of technical design and, worst of all, imagination.

This incomprehensible sensation of being absolutely crushed by what I saw meant I left during the interval, headed to Covent Garden on the Picadilly and proceeded to calm down by letting my charming boyfriend buy me cocktails at Cafe Pacifico.

Usually, I hate bad-mouthing productions. Even with the God-awful production of "Fear and Msery in the Third Reich" I saw last year, I found things to be complimentary about [partly because, I myself, have been in a really God-awful production of the same play]. I am all-too aware how much heart and soul has to go into a performance. Every actor has to work with their director until they've given so much of themselves to a production that the end of its run leaves one feeling as though they're mourning a loss. So I could never bring myself to casually slag off something that could be the entire world to a small band of actors, but I can't find a single thing to compliment. The whole production was done with a roaring arrogance that highlighted the actors' own notion that they had something great. I found no quality in this production endearing, I did not even find it entertaining, I just found it sad. I saw people doing what I want to do, the very thing that I want to pour every ounce of myself into making great, but doing it without any soul, accepting a standard you wouldn't accept in primary school nativity plays when, surely, they could have done so much more. It was heartbreaking.

All in all, I can honestly put by hand on my heart and my middle finger in the air and say that if LSBU end up being the only place available to me next year, I will very politely and oh-so sweetly tell them where that stick their unconditional offer and then remind them that even that won't cause the kind of pain their production had me endure!
Honestly, fuck. That.