“Being entirely in verse, the linguistic, rhythmic and rhyming artistry is something to be applauded”
The frightful sound of the school bell rings out. As your teacher for the evening makes his way to the whiteboard, papers are handed out around the class / audience, of the poem that is to be stuffily analysed. Or so you think … My Evolution of Cave Painting is a profoundly personal one-man show written and performed by Howard Horner, or Mr. Horner as us ‘students’ are introduced to him as. This highly comical and cleverly written piece of storytelling opens as a lecture on poetry, and the dull approach in which it is taught in this country, before turning into an outlandish expulsion of Mr. Horner’s neurosis. Moving between the complexities of growing up, and our incessant need to make our mark on the world, this production successfully evaluates our modern-day British lifestyles, whilst maintaining a firm look at the past and how much it has shaped us.
The real gem of this performance is Howard Horner’s writing. Being entirely in verse, the linguistic, rhythmic and rhyming artistry is something to be applauded. Adopting this poetic style whilst reflecting on the effects poetry has had on his life is a nice paralleling touch. It is the use of verse that helps to give My Evolution of Cave Painting a real spark, channelling elements of a spoken word or poetry slam reading.
The placement within a school environment is also a winning combination. The small constrictions of the Hope Theatre effectively resemble that of a claustrophobic classroom, which we all have memories of sitting in. Giving the audience an active role as the students within the performance provides a generous sense of involvement and deeper interaction with the work.
Howard Horner gives an intimate and honest look into the inner workings of his mind, and early childhood. At times the piece can verge on feeling like too much of a rant or preachy, but this is quickly reined in by his off-the-wall antics, particularly with black paint and talcum powder (I’ll say no more). Picking up on current topics of discussion such as male identity crisis and how it personally affects him, firmly places the show in the realms of our time. There may be nothing mightily profound or enlightening that is conversed around these areas of dilemma, however it is the manner in which it is presented that leaves a lasting mark.
“Moments … a touching work, full of sadness but also smattered with humour”
Although Pennyworth Production’s objective to create ‘new work to challenge old ideas’ could be open to interpretation, this poignant and compelling double bill certainly reinforces the ‘kitchen sink’ philosophy that real-life is drama in itself. Drawing on subjects often buried but part of the make-up of modern society – loneliness, family tensions, mental health – the slow, tragic undercurrent of ‘Moments’ and the restless, tragic unravelling of ‘Empty Beds’ fit together beautifully. With sensitive writing by Julia Cranney and masterly direction by Kate Treadell, the production focuses on the impact of the unspoken and the force of the absent, leaving the characters on stage battling to move forward from lives they have left behind or missed.
‘Moments’ interlocks two unlikely people, with clever, spoken dialogue, binding them together for the audience before they find their own friendship. Simon Mattack and Julia Cranney (Daniel and Ava) give strong, sympathetic performances as they try to keep up appearances between awkward glances and growing familiarity and struggling to find the warmth of human contact in the coldness of a big city. The pace, perhaps, remains constant for slightly too long and the action is somewhat precipitated after Daniel’s personal revelation, which cuts short a very moving scene. Nevertheless, it is a touching work, full of sadness but also smattered with humour.
While ‘Moments’ works well, ‘Empty Beds’ is a flawless piece of drama, perfectly directed and interpreted. Debbie Brannan (Jo) and Carys Wright (Emily) join Julia Cranney (Catherine) as three sisters on a train journey to visit their brother on his birthday. Inevitably the emotional bond connecting them tightens and loosens, and resentments, truths and affections are stirred up. The changing pace and mood and the superb acting are completely absorbing as the sisters, confined to a train carriage, cannot escape the confrontations as they unpick their relationships with each other.
Anna Reid’s set is perfectly unassuming in its simplicity, uncluttered by props, and the lighting (Ali Hunter) is unobtrusive yet carefully enhancing. Even the sound, which plays a prominent part in sketching the background, similar to a radio drama, does not detract from the stage. In all three aspects less is unquestionably more, all brought neatly together by Georgia Tetlow (Stage Manager and Operator). Moreover, Pennyworth Productions advocacy to favour women on and off stage is remarkable here and most fitting in the current climate of equality.
It is often hard to dramatise the delicate social issues broached in these plays. They can become sentimental, over-simplified or too dark. The company gives an honest, articulate version of what lies behind families and friendships, admittance, acceptance and regret, in well-balanced tragi-comedies. It shows how the survival instinct of human nature shines through the pain of life’s conditions with humour and hope, conjuring up a myriad of emotions in a highly recommended evening at the Hope Theatre.
