“The play is a fiendishly clever piece of writing, served brilliantly by a formidable company”
They say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for’, or ‘never trust a smiling cat’. Although not perfect in their analogy, it would be a similar phrase that describes how we feel walking away from Isley Lynn’s new play “The Swell”. Lynn’s writing is deceptively artful and astute, crafty yet judiciously crafted. She has that rare gift of duping us into thinking we are on safe ground, but then abruptly pulling that ground away from under our feet.
Conceived five years ago as part of Hightide’s summer writing festival, director Hannah Hauer-King has helped steer the piece towards its premiere at the Orange Tree Theatre. Her close attachment shows up in the crisp and sensitive staging of the text. Specifically played in the round there is nowhere really to hide; a challenge that is embraced. When not directly involved in in the action, the characters are still ever present; in shadows, watching, chanting or silently echoing the unfolding drama centre stage.
The “Swell” in the play’s title refers variously to the crest of a wave, the metaphorical rush of blood to the heart when in love, or the rising of a chorister’s chest. But also, to the swelling in the brain of a blood clot that can cause a stroke – which informs the bulk of the brilliantly executed shifts and twists that shape our understanding of the characters’ journeys; their motives, relationships and deceptions.
The action shifts between then and now. Annie and Bel are seemingly in love, preparing for their wedding. Until Flo – a childhood friend of Annie’s – crashes into their lives with predictable results. Suffice to say the wedding never takes place. Jessica Clark fires Flo’s spirit with an energy that races ahead of her bubbly free spirit. Saroja-Lily Ratnavel, as the young Annie, veils her emotional scar tissue with taut jitteriness that borders on violence, while Ruby Crepin-Glyne’s rootless Bel is caught in the slow dance of domesticity, aching for the tempo to change. Sophie Ward, Shuna Snow and Viss Elliot Safavi are the girls thirty years later. The extraordinarily accomplished performances tease out the intervening backstory with an understated intensity that boils beneath the gentle simmering. It feels like a caress, but all along it is scorching us.
The play is a fiendishly clever piece of writing, served brilliantly by a formidable company of actresses. You cannot avoid the fact that queerness runs through it like marble. However, like Brokeback Mountain for example, the fears and prejudice sadly still experienced are addressed without coming across as a piece of queer writing. Sexual identity is not being scrutinised, yet questions and assumptions of personal identity are thrillingly exposed and cannily upturned.
The literal and the figurative walk hand in hand. Imagine them walking through a rather predictable romcom, but then they turn a corner and are ambushed by a psychological thriller. One in which lies come in all shades of white, and betrayal can be the kindest act. The mood is underpinned, though not particularly enhanced, by Nicola T. Chang’s a Capella vocal score. The essence lies within the dialogue and the drama, and swells into a fine fusion of writing and performance.
LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD at the Battersea Arts Centre
★★½
“all three performers worked harder than they should have to with Little Red Robin Hood”
The Sleeping Trees return to the Battersea Arts Centre with yet another mashed up pantomime, and this year it is the turn of Robin Hood and Little Red Riding Hood. Little Red Robin Hood has a lively script. That’s as you would expect from writers as talented as James Dunnell-Smith, John Woodburn and Joshua George Smith (with an able assist from Musical Director and Sound Designer Ben Hales). But, and it pains me to say this, the overall production is a disappointment.
Let’s start with the premise that kicks off the show. It might seem cute to hand the show over to a couple of earnest ushers, when the cast inexplicably—o.k not so inexplicably at this moment in history—get caught in a Tube strike, and special guest star Cher’s helicopter gets improbably stuck in mid air. And it’s no fault of performers Simone Cornelius, Miya James and Sam Rix that they get handed a script to improvise around, that was obviously written for the usual cast of Dunnell-Smith, Woodburn and Smith. Add to that some hastily made props, and some sketchy costumes, and the overall effect of Little Red Robin Hood is not of a plucky trio going on to save the show, but of three performers out of their depth, despite their best efforts.
The plot of Little Red Robin Hood is a nicely updated version of Little Red Riding Hood (aka Little Red) who wants to meet her hero, Robin Hood. Little Red has a couple of problems—one is that she is not a very good shot with the bow and arrow, and the second is that nobody knows what has happened to Robin Hood. The evil Sheriff of Nottingham and the Big Bad Wolf have joined forces which is very bad news for the citizens of both Sherwood Forest and Nottingham, since the Sheriff wants to make them all homeless by pulling down their houses, and putting up a big car park. The Sheriff is seemingly untroubled by things like planning permission, and apparently has the power to throw anyone he doesn’t like in jail—again, not totally implausible in this day and age. Things look bad for brave Little Red and her mum. And that’s to say nothing of Red’s Grandma, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Cher—if Cher lived in Sherwood Forest, which is almost completely unlike Los Angeles, where the real Cher lives. Anyway. There are some brilliant plot twists, involving long lost lovers reunited, a long lost Robin Hood found, and a pantomime unicorn. All ends happily as Little Red switches her red cloak for one of woodland green.
Part of the problem with Little Red Robin Hood is that The Sleeping Trees are victims of their own success. At their best, they are unbeatable at the pantomime mashup, and it’s noticeable when they fail to reach such high standards. Little Red Robin Hood, as a children’s show, is actually a good piece of educational theatre, since it is all about teaching kids how to be an audience at a pantomime. The performers, particularly Sam Rix, do an excellent job of teaching the children how to boo a villain, learn the stock responses, and how to leave, and return, after the interval. Simone Cornelius is a versatile performer with a good voice. Miya James, as the resident Californian, is, not surprisingly, the most out of her depth—Americans don’t do pantomime, and always look bemused when you try to explain it to them. In fairness, pantomime does sound an odd thing to put on stage, if you haven’t grown up with the traditions. But all three performers worked harder than they should have to with Little Red Robin Hood.
It’s probably too soon to predict when we’ll return to a world that’s recognizable pre 2020, and perhaps we never will. But that’s why it’s so important to be able to rely on the things that anchor us in a time of such unpredictable, and unwelcome, change. Particularly for our children, and their families. One of those things is The Sleeping Trees’ annual pantomime mashup for audiences of all ages. Isn’t that what the holiday season is all about?
