“Somerville’s command of the stage is exemplary and brings an added intensity to an already complex terrain”
Stepping into the intimate and distinguished Finborough Theatre, we are immediately transported to the milieu of poet Bev Hemmings, under public scrutiny for an apparently anti-Semitic comparison in a recent poem. Jeff Page’s ‘Checkpoint Chana’ not only questions the grey area between pro-Palestinian criticism of Israel and anti-Semitism but also manages to emphasise the creative questions of self-expression and individual interpretation within sensitive boundaries.
Before the play begins, Daisy Blower’s artfully designed room, scattered with carefully selected props and evocative seventies music do more than simply set the scene; the details cleverly hint at the poet’s past and paint a picture of the seemingly carefree, bohemian life she leads. The lighting (Jamie Platt), subtly used throughout the play to intensify but not intrude, adds a warm, comfortable glow.
Out of this evolves the agony of being misunderstood and fear of losing everything, with a brilliant performance by Geraldine Somerville as Bev, whose emotions sway from disbelief to anger, frustration and resignation, deepened by the guilty grief over her dying father. Her command of the stage is exemplary and brings an added intensity to an already complex terrain. Ulrika Krishnamurti (Tamsin) portrays Bev’s PA who has the difficult job of persuading her to apologise as well as managing her erratic behaviour. However, her youth and the strength of her personality show as nervous earnestness which consequently depicts a detached working relationship, lacking plausible closeness, rather than a strong, familiar bond built up over the years. David, played by Matt Mella, the journalist prepared to help with the recovery of Bev’s reputation, surprises us with his twists of character and a moving account of painful memories. Nathaniel Wade is excellent as Michael, establishing an identity from the moment he appears, and building a rapport with the poet from very little interaction.
The script is an interesting comment on tiptoeing around political correctness by doing just that. With a pointedly politically-correct cast it lays down the various opinions as a debate with no conclusion, as opposed to a standpoint. Apart from a few unneeded jokes the drama works well as layers of complication thicken the argument. Director, Manuel Bau, concentrates on the trauma Bev is going through, leaving the changes of scene as subtle as possible and showing how one wrong step could turn her world about.
Thoughtful writing, a beautifully detailed set and some powerful performances make this a compelling production intellectually, aesthetically and emotionally.
“McGuirk gives a delightful performance, drawing the audience in with her bold and bubbly characterisation”
Single narrative performances are a theatrical style whose popularity has fluctuated over the years, even though it has maintained an underground following. However, recently, there does seem to be a resurgence of theatres within the capital that are allocating more space within their programme to showcase this art form. Whether it is in the shape of a poetry slam, a spoken word night, or a solo performance event, the singular voice is taking centre stage once more. North London’s Chickenshed Theatre is one such place that has jumped on the bandwagon. Their new production, Monolog, is a celebration of the lone voice, and the vast, diverse approaches in which it can be heard.
In an intimate and relaxed setting, four, non-linking monologues that include new writing as well as the work of established writers are given exposure, delivered with vitality and enthusiasm. Opening with Her Big Chance by Alan Bennett, Belinda McGuirk presents the piece from what is probably the most recognisable collection of dramatic monologues, Talking Heads. Julie Walters had originally played the part of starry-eyed actress, Lesley, for the small screen, but here, McGuirk gives a delightful performance, drawing the audience in with her bold and bubbly characterisation. The monologue does seem dated now, with its references and the character’s moral naivety, though still topical in light of the recent uncoverings of sexual abuse and harassment cases within the film industry.
A newly commissioned autobiographical piece, This Is Me, by Diane Samuels (best known for her play Kindertransport) is the second offering. The performance is a snapshot of memories of her life with alternating performances by either Belinda McGuirk as the older Diane, or Lucy Mae Beacock as the younger, depending on which performance you see. I saw the younger self, sweetly portrayed by Beacock using an unconventional method of audience participation to reveal the next vignette of her early life, gradually building the bigger picture of who she is. Beacock gives a confident and assured performance as the young Diane, but the content is rather underwhelming.
The most thrilling contributions to the show are the two monologues from the ‘New Writing’ selection, which have a fresh and vibrant voice. A total of six have been written by various affiliates of the Chickenshed community, rotating between which are presented. Last Piece of the Sun, collaboratively devised by Alesha Bhakoo, Dave Carey and Milly Rolle, follows the heart-breaking consequences of a one-night stand, which Bhakoo performs with real believability. Whilst, the kooky, I Find Love In A Bin (In Waterloo Station) by Peter Dowse, is wonderfully brought to life by Sarah Connelly, who imaginatively uses the abstract imagery to her advantage.
This showcase of work is a pleasant reminder of how important the monologue is to the arts, and the power in which in can behold in telling a narrative. Moving through varying emotions and periods of time Monolog demonstrates how far the form has come along, whilst contemplating how much wider its parameters could be pushed in the future.
