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.

There's Snow Business Like Snow Business...

Car's stuck in the drive, snow's still falling, and I can't get to work...what a pity ;)

With the snow coming down thick, winter settling in and the temperature continuously taking a nose-dive, I've noticed a lot of 'What to do...' list-type doo-das popping up on google and blog circles and what have you. Now, I'm like a child when it comes to snow. By this, I mean I will happily play in it for about five minutes but as soon as anyone even gives me a look that says they're thinking of throwing a snowball I run inside crying like a five-year-old... However, purely out of curiosity, I had a little peak at a few of these lists - usually very imaginatively called '10 things to do in snow...' or '12 things to do in snow...' or, in one disastrously badly-written instance, '47 things to do in snow...' - you get the picture, I'm sure. Now, whilst stretching these suggestions as thinly as possible, I couldn't fail to notice that every idea pretty much boils down to one of the following:

• Write things in it.
• Use it violently.
• Build things out of it.
• Hide in it.
• Find fun and dangerous ways to travel on or through it.

I can say, without reasonable doubt being cast, that all of these, if done for a long enough period of time, will end one of two ways; either you'll become too cold and you'll go inside or you'll fall over, become to cold, and go inside. If we disregard the above, the absurd and the insane - such as leaving water balloons out overnight to freeze before using them as dodge-balls in a field where the snow is too deep for children to run away [people are scary on the internet] - then we are left with just one category of things which can be done for entertainment when it snows:

• Have fun indoors, doing something warm, whilst snow, incidentally, just happens to be falling outside.

So remember, as beautiful as it is, it's also cold, wet, treacherous and by February, if my own prediction proves right, will be a constant feature on the news as Britain will have run out of salt by then...again... Follow my lead - do something productive with your day, curl up with a cup of coffee, then brave the cold and the small screaming children to get to the pub. Just like any other day, eh?

The Last Orders

Ever found yourself wondering what would happen if some of the greatest figures in Victorian literature were to find themselves in a tavern on a bitter Winter's night?

Well, a group of drama students studying at Exeter University did just that and, through the course of an evening and, I assume, a couple of rounds of student-priced pints, they formed a theatre company; Stupidity Street was born.

Then, on Halloween, the company brought a host of unlikely and undesirable characters into Exeter’s Bike Shed Theatre in a promenade performance that set a standard which others may find it hard to live up to.

In The Last Orders the audience, seated haphazardly around the room on sofas and barstools, become part of scenery. Betsy [Sally Naylor] and Nancy [Eloise Tong] begin to serve drinks and pies, thoughtfully provided by Mrs Lovett [Mel Barrett], who is next to appear on the scene, along with a dangerously drunk Mister Sweeney Todd [Nick Limm].
Enter next a flustered and cautious looking Doctor Jekyll [Nick Smith] who positions himself in a dark corner, making sure Betsy is always in view. As he talks concernedly to her about whether his acquaintance, a Mister Hyde, has been around lately, a fop enters, introduces himself as Dorian Gray [Harry Boyd] and proceeds to flirt shamelessly with the barmaids and make eyes at male members of the audience.
The last of the assumed-villains to enter is a foreigner, a Swiss man by the name of Frankenstein [Abbi Davey], who requests a room for the night, whilst always looking over his shoulder, trying to steer clear of the others in the room and keep to himself.
The scene falls silent as a slim, stern-looking man enters the bar and, with all eyes on him, asks confidently for nothing but water. This man is the great, and until recently deceased, Sherlock Holmes [Emily Holyoake].
Throughout the course of the night, four characters are apparently murdered, and it is up to those who remain standing to figure out who is responsible.

Although, at first, it may seem like an easy thing to take a character that has been read about for a hundred years and bring them to life, there have been enough awful adaptations to prove that it is nothing of the sort. Some of these characters appear very one-dimensional in their own books and the effort that went into this production becomes apparent as the characters begin to interact with one another.
Lovett shocked the audience as her sweet sing-songy voice turned to malice as she forced a blade up to Dorian’s neck. Frankenstein, whose accent could have created an overly comical character had it been done badly, came across as cold and calculating in the face of death and entertained the audience with the dry wit of a man trying to escape detection. Dorian’s arrogant facade quickly broke down to reveal the layers of fear and guilt behind the vulnerable and insecure little boy. Jekyll appealed most to the audience’s sympathies as he earnestly tried to protect Betsy from the company around her, however, this warped towards the end as Hyde reared his head and created a bipolar opposite to the unassuming man that had been present before.
As an avid Sherlock Holmes fan, I wasn't sure how I'd react to the role being played by a female actor, however, the posture and movement of the character was entirely convincing and, at moments of low light, the silhouette was that of the great detective exactly.
Todd stole the show, staying slumped in a chair unless at the bar, requesting another drink, and succeeded in making every member of the audience feel threatened, delivering his lines with a voice like gravel and occasionally giving the most sinister smile I’ve ever seen.
Blending descriptions from their character’s books with their own quirks and traits, each actor successfully managed to create depth and mystery in the well-known figures they were playing.
Although science students may have cringed a little when the characters tested a solution for cyanide by adding it to water and waiting for it to turn yellow, the whole audience, without exception, were held captive by the well-acted piece that clung onto its enigmas until the very end.

Rumour has it that, after such an outstanding opening night, The Last Orders may be reviving itself in a new Exeter venue or two.
Missing it once was a crime, to miss it again would be a sin.

We Won't Let This Star Go Out

Esther Earl, who's name means 'Star', was a fantastic sixteen year old girl who died in August after battling cancer.

I was lucky enough to have had contact with her, but cannot pretend to have been particulalry close.
The 'This Star Won't Go Out Foundation' was founded by Esther's close friends and family shortly after her death to benefit the parents of children suffering with cancer as, particularly in America, it can be an incredibly expensive illness as well as an emotionally draining battle.

Esther was a regular blogger and active member of Youtube and made her way into the community of 'Nerdfighters' [people who follow the vlogs of John and Hank Green] and was well liked within this community.
DFTBA records, collaboratively set-up by Hank Green and Alan Lastufka, are offering these bracelets:
CLICK HERE
As a way of remembering Esther and contributing the Foundation set up by those she has sadly left behind.

Anyway, sorry, will be back to posting insane, inane ramblings in the near future, I just had to do my bit to get this out there :)

One of Those Days...

Had a very, very long day. Wrote this on the bus.
It's for the boy who had an even longer day today than I did.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

TOGETHER IN THIS

The brave facade of a hearty laugh
And snaking arms seek comfort
Ripple the bedrock of mere days
As the corners leak and the paint,
Decaying around us, flakes and peels
And flutters down to the once-rotless carpet.

Only we two are holding
This little world of ours
Up, and together, and defended from those
Trying to break down the safety
Constructed in our
Two-man barricade.
Stare at the stars and reach out your hand.
Distance is inconsequential.
Our fingers will meet.

Beige Soul

Got a bit sick of the stereotypical angsty teenagers I was sat on a train with and wrote this...

-----------------------------------

Wanting to be someone famous
Whilst sitting on a train
Headed for the bustling metropolis
Hoping for the rain
To hit your face and then the pavement
As you walk with anonymity,
One underweight epitome
Of the Indie scene cliché.
With your bangs in your eyes
And your lips painted red,
Under your arm is a book
Of classical poets, all dead.
Falling in love on the hour
Just to keep from being bored,
And, still, for all your cleverness,
'Pathetic' is the word
To describe the shallow scratches left
By pangs of pains that don't have names
A calculated charming coldness
Is your only claim to fame.
The drink in your system
And the drugs that you take
Are just painting the picture
You're dying to make.
Waiting to find something
That's enough to inspire
You to take the first step
And set the whole world on fire
But that would take a talent
That you're sadly lacking
So you take another round trip
And forget about packing
Anything but a notebook
And an eyeliner pencil,
Using all negative media
As a kind of a stencil
To feel alive but unknown
Whilst trying to find
The courage that's needed
To leave it all behind
Whether you jump on or in front
Of that bus you can see
You'll only be mourned
For the things you won't be.

Coming Out...

"Thespians do it on stage."

I finished my drama A level last year, before that I did it as a GCSE and ran a small AmDram group with fellow students, I also used to be involved with the New Youth Theatre, a production company with whom I did two large musicals and two dramas. I have loved every second of the past five years where All-Things-Theatrey are concerned.

I am now doing a third year at college but, even though I've been seeing plays non-stop, and even though I've been writing and reading as much as possible, and even though I'm excited about the prospects of studying drama in an insane amount of depth for three whole years at university next year, I am feeling the loss of, what was, a tremendous presence in my life.

I went to my first session of the college's own AD Society today.
Even though I feel drama is a massive part of me, I'm pretty socially awkward a lot of the time, often enveloping myself into a character is a good way of dealing with this problem, so a Youth Theatre is both exciting and a little scary.
I loved it. This freedom to direct and act and bounce ideas against people that can then run with or improve those ideas without worrying about the constraints that exams place on theatre, as a drama exam is, essentially, about knowing which hoops to jump through...and they tend to be on fire.
It was an amazing amount of fun, and even though I'd turned up feeling nervous, I couldn't believe how quickly those two hours disappeared.

A particular highlight for me was when someone found a small bottle and asked what it was.
I muttered "You do know what you're drinking is meant for eye surgery?" and assumed no one would get the reference, but was immediately told to "wear a jacket", which was immensely fun!

Absence supposedly makes the heart grow fonder.
What I've found this summer is that it rips me to pieces.
I think it's fair to say that nothing makes me happier and, even though there is the worry that I'll get out of uni with a BA in drama and no hope of a career, I really can't imagine doing anything else with my life.