Tag Archives: Brighton Fringe

Ubu Roi – 5 Stars

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Ubu

Ubu Roi

The Warren: The Blockhouse – Brighton Fringe

Reviewed – 27th May 2018

★★★★★

“The plot begins to unravel, buried under a barrage of abuse, bloodlust, and bizarre fighting that looks an awful lot like Morris dancing”

 

It is hard to know where to begin with Ubu Roi, Alfred Jarry’s infamous, proto-absurdist masterpiece. Equal parts inspired and inane, the original production caused a riot at its Paris premiere and was subsequently banned from the French stage for several decades. Thank goodness such restrictions don’t apply to the Brighton Fringe.

Set in medieval Poland, the plot revolves around the grotesque figure of Pere Ubu, a capricious, cowardly, and infantile courtier with an insatiable appetite for food and sex. Together with his wife, the equally insatiable but altogether more intelligent Mere Ubu, our apparent hero conspires to kill the king of Poland and claim the crown for himself. The further up the food chain this insane figure rises, the more despicable, depraved, and hilarious he becomes. The plot begins to unravel, buried under a barrage of abuse, bloodlust, and bizarre fighting that looks an awful lot like Morris dancing. But reading between the lines of the crazed dialogue, it becomes clear that Jarry has hidden a deadly serious commentary on humanity itself. Just as in the world of Ubu Roi, real life is frequently ridiculous, unfair, and over much too quickly. Perhaps the only antidote is to laugh.

The madness is captured brilliantly by Squall + Frenzy, the Brighton-based company responsible for this production. Owen Bleach and Ada Dodds – Pere and Mere respectively – make for a hilariously dysfunctional double act, maintaining the hysterical tone of the piece without ever trampling on the story. A series of equally brilliant supporting characters are played by Chris Gates, Matt Grief, Tara Richards, and Matt Swan. Though the show may appear to unfold into complete anarchy, it is the tightness of the actors’ performances that make such an effect possible.

The audience gets dragged into the mayhem as well, regularly called upon to join in with the characters’ chaotic schemes or suffer the consequences of them. At one point a hapless punter fails to literally kill Owen Bleach – as opposed to his character – copping himself an angry earful from the Tsar of Russia (or perhaps from Chris Gates himself?). I myself am summarily executed along with several other members of the audience and later I nearly lose an eye thanks to one of Mere Ubu’s impressively spikey nipples (watch yourself if you sit in the front row). In a meltdown of petulant rage, Pere Ubu eventually attempts to have the entire world executed, including all the actors and the long-dead author of the play itself. It is reluctantly that he realises he must make do with those of us he has to hand.

I love the idea that someone could stumble into Ubu Roi without any concept of theatre. Perhaps only under those conditions could a person truly appreciate Jarry’s absurd message. For those of us who have arrived willingly, we realise that the play is an entertainment, and that the ridiculous childishness is all part of the fun, and perhaps even rather clever. But for a viewer unaware of what they are seeing, the ensuing assault on their senses and dignity -especially in this immersive format – would only be marginally more terrifying than seeing the crowd they are in laughing and cheering as Ubu becomes ever more depraved. But as the “Make Poland Great Again” slogan on Squall + Frenzy’s poster suggests, perhaps such a reality isn’t so surreal after all.

 

Reviewed by Harry True

 


Ubu Roi

Brighton Fringe

 

 

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The Polished Scar – 3 Stars

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Scar

The Polished Scar

Rialto Theatre – Brighton Fringe

Reviewed – 15th May 2018

★★★

“Though the premise of the piece is sound, it can sometimes play out rather predictably”

 

Conformity comes in many shapes and sizes, but invariably it crushes the soul. This is, in part at least, the moral of The Polished Scar, a one-man play written and performed by Duncan Henderson. However, it is only at around the halfway mark that the conflict at the heart of the piece begins to make itself clear.

Told in a series of vignettes, the play follows an unnamed protagonist through a privileged but ultimately hollow life. At boarding school, he quickly learns that bullying is the best way to avoid being bullied, and that making friends with the “right” people is more important than meaningful relationships. He floats seamlessly from the Oxford Union to a seat in parliament, with the smugness of a man who believes that it is his birth right to do so. But his cold exterior is only a front, a defence against the pain of being sent away from home so young. Inevitably, tragically, the fragile foundations of his life must crumble.

Though the premise of the piece is sound, it can sometimes play out rather predictably. Being as it is a portrait of a Cameronite Conservative, it is almost as though Henderson felt he had to include an episode of coke-fuelled carousing, and later another in which political influence is used to get a friend out of an embarrassing jam. Amusing though these sequences are, they feel somewhat generic and tell us little if anything about the character himself.

Far more interesting are the scenes in which his emotional wounds are most obviously on show. For example, when he has injured a boy in a bullying incident at school, and with the last shreds of his guilt evaporating, he warns the victim “not to make a fuss”. Or later when he is trying to convince his wife that their son will be okay at boarding school, and he repeats the phrase “I went and I’m fine” over and over like some kind of morbid mantra. These chapters are where the true meat of the show is to be found, but too much filler means it is hard to see what direction the piece is going in until well into its hour-long running time.

Henderson himself puts in a strong performance, his smooth, almost hypnotic voice fitting the phony politician’s charm perfectly. The stage dressing is sparse – a single chair and occasionally a table – meaning Henderson must hold our gaze throughout. He succeeds, and perhaps the best thing about this show is just how watchable Henderson is. So believable is his portrayal, that the aforementioned holes in the plot don’t become obvious until afterwards.

At times The Polished Scar can feel didactic, a simple case against upper class social rigidity. But by its devastating finale, it would take an especially cynical viewer to argue that it hadn’t made its case well. The only wish is that it could have been made tighter.

 

Reviewed by Harry True

 


The Polished Scar

Brighton Fringe

 

 

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