BLUETS at the Royal Court Theatre

★★★

“Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation.”

“Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a colour”. So begins both Maggie Nelson’s 2009 novel, and Margaret Perry’s stage adaptation of the same title. If you wanted to find Nelson’s original in a bookshop, it would be filed under ‘poetry’. It comprises 240 prose poems that, although disjointed, explores the themes of sadness, grief and heartbreak. The colour blue is the obvious common thread which gets woven into the short essays like a Satin Bowerbird would decorate its nest with blue items.

Being unfamiliar with Nelson’s novella (as I am) is no handicap when approaching Perry’s interpretation. Every spoken word is lifted from Nelson’s text and moulded into an hour-long monologue, narrated by three actors all playing the same character. They each express the author’s innermost thoughts in an understated fashion that sometimes borders on whispering. The most striking feature is the staging. One cannot fail to notice the bank of cameras occupying the space, and the large video screen across the back wall. The impulse is to groan inwardly. There’s so much of it about at the moment; with Jamie Lloyd repeating the technique for his latest two productions, and even Ivo van Hove jumping on the bandwagon. But you have to remember that director Katie Mitchell pioneered the form, coining it ‘live cinema’ as far back as 2006.

The intention is that the audience are watching a film being made in real time while the finished product is projected onto the screen above the action. In reality, “Bluets” comes across more as a radio play than a film, and the transition from the spoken word to the visual perspective is often a distraction rather than an enhancement. It is ingeniously realised though. With the use of props and a mix of close ups and superimposed backdrops the impression of watching a film is uncannily simulated. We are often in awe at the technical wizardry, not to mention the concentration and prowess of the backstage crew. But the content inevitably suffers, and is overshadowed. So much so that we also forget the starry line up in the cast.

Ben Whishaw, Emma D’Arcy and Kayla Meikle are A, B and C respectively. But it doesn’t matter, as A, B and C are all the same person. The three performers move and speak as one, finishing each other’s sentences and covering up each other’s frequent non-sequiturs. It often resembles the childhood game of ‘Consequences’, but more grown up and sadly duller. Which is a shame. Stripped of the cleverness that surrounds them, the words would resonate much more if allowed to speak for themselves. Nelson’s writing is beautifully rhythmic, reflective and evocative. There are frequent pauses in the pathos and the poetry. The tight choreography of monologue and movement trips every so often as we worry that a prop is delivered correctly and on time, or that the actor is still on the right page.

Amid the clutter of a film set and the chaos of non-chronological shooting, it is only in the editing room that the vision begins to become coherent. In “Bluets” we get the sense that we are watching the raw material, and we are given little time or space to reflect on what the performers are saying. We are left with having to try and decipher it later, but at least are inspired to root out the original book.

Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation. Sometimes dreamlike, it also shows the grinding cogs that conjure the dreams. It verges on being hypnotic while narrowly avoiding soporific. The hour does seem to stretch, but the urge to look at our watches is mercifully suppressed enough as we are occasionally caught off guard by a moving and lyrical turn of phrase. An intriguing piece of theatre and at times a poignant exploration of grief, loneliness, sadness, heartbreak – but also pleasure. Yet the true emotion is hard to locate in this interpretation and only really tracked down in retrospect; like “a pile of thin blue gels scattered on the stage long after the show has come and gone”. It’s a challenge, but one worth taking.

BLUETS at the Royal Court Theatre

Reviewed on 24th May 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Camilla Greenwood

Previously reviewed at this venue:

GUNTER | ★★★★ | April 2024

COWBOIS | ★★★★★ | January 2024

MATES IN CHELSEA | ★★★ | November 2023

CUCKOO | ★★½ | July 2023

BLACK SUPERHERO | ★★★★ | March 2023

FOR BLACK BOYS … | ★★★★★ | April 2022

BLUETS

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★★★★

“when the otherworldly music is allowed to flourish, the piece achieves some truly transcendent moments”

Dragon Ladies Don’t Weep is a musical autobiography of renowned Singaporean avant-garde pianist and multi-instrumentalist Margaret Leng Tan. A meditation on music and loss, the piece is an experimental one-woman show that seamlessly blends elements of biographical monologue, musical concert and performance art, written by ‘dramaturg’ Kok Heng Leun using text from Tan’s diaries and recollections. Tan, a long-time collaborator of seminal American composer John Cage, channels all the experience of her six-decade career, which began when she entered New York’s Julliard School of Music at the age of sixteen, to produce a compelling and original performance.

Naturally, music is central, serving as catalyst and accompaniment for the recounting of some pivotal experiences of Tan’s life. Using the innovative instruments for which she is known, Tan creates a dynamic sonic palette that ripples throughout the performance, reaching instances of real beauty. Alongside a grand piano that she modifies on stage by placing nuts and bolts between the strings to produce a bell-like tone, she employs a child’s toy piano – her trademark – as well as the triangle, melodica, cymbals, and wind-up music boxes. The music made on stage transfers from the live instruments to a recorded soundtrack, allowing the solo performer to weave layered soundscapes throughout the show, performing music by composer Erik Griswold.

The staging is relatively spare, director Tamara Saulwick working with just the instruments, the performer and two visible displays, a larger screen upstage right and a central vertical column onto which patterns, and, occasionally text, is projected. Much as toy instruments are used to create ethereal music, from this minimalist set comes a fascinating visual spectacle. Video projections (Nick Roux) interpret the live musical performance and are central to the success of the work: intricate solo piano pieces elicit a moving tapestry of lines that teasingly form perfect shapes before quickly dissipating, defying our desire for patterns as the music subverts our expectations of obvious melodies. In one particularly effective passage, Tan uses multiple music boxes to recall her first meeting with Cage, when twenty Julliard pianists simultaneously played his composition ‘Winter’. She remembers how it sounded to her like melting icicles, and this description is reflected through projections that evoke dripping ice.

Dragon Ladies Don’t Weep is marked by the absence of two guiding figures in Tan’s life, her mother and Cage, who are recalled both through her descriptions of them and video appearances on the screens. These images are ephemeral: footage of Cage and Tan in conversation has its audio unsynchronised, and a video apparition of her mother becomes clearer and fades with swells of music, suggesting that while art may bring us closer to the memory of those we love, it will never return them to us. This sense of loss is deeply affecting, as the work considers the transience of life and the imperfection of memory.

Some of the spoken passages, despite allowing Tan to demonstrate her wry sense of humour, are a little flat, including a lamentation on the predominance of mobile phones in contemporary society which feels particularly ill-fitting. These sections are brief, however, and, when the otherworldly music is allowed to flourish, the piece achieves some truly transcendent moments, illustrating why Margaret Leng Tan is such an important figure in twentieth-century music and beyond. When combining music and the personal experiences of the performer, the piece is at its best, dragon ladies may not weep but they are not unfeeling.

Category Archives: Reviews

BLUETS

★★★

Royal Court Theatre

BLUETS at the Royal Court Theatre

★★★

“Undoubtedly audacious and innovative, “Bluets” defies categorisation.”