Tag Archives: Chris Sonnex

We Anchor in Hope

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The Bunker

We Anchor in Hope

We Anchor in Hope

The Bunker

Reviewed – 3rd October 2019

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“a richly atmospheric show about memory, community, and what it means to let go.”

 

The stage area of The Bunker Theatre has been transformed into a neighbourhood pub. With a fully-functioning bar, β€˜The Anchor’ is open an hour prior to each performance for drinks and pool. There’s no need to go out to the foyer for a pint during the interval. A pub quiz every Tuesday night after the show, and karaoke every Thursday night, completes the transformation.

Written by Anna Jordan and directed by Chris Sonnex, We Anchor in Hope is a simmering, uneasy piece that reminds us how precarious our footholds are in society’s ever-shifting landscape. Designed by Zoe Hurwitz, The Anchor is a working-class, locals’ pub. It’s an old bastion in its Pimlico neighbourhood, but the play begins on its last day in business. The year is 2016. The referendum has just passed. The owner calls The Anchor a β€œsafe place”, a haven from the madness. But while we may be safe inside, Jordan and Sonnex ensure we’re constantly aware of the tides of change lapping at the doors. The Anchor won’t withstand the relentless waves of gentrification.

The two young bartenders are Pearl (Alex Jarrett) and Bilbo (Daniel Kendrick). Pearl has grown up in bars. She remembers being six years old, colouring in colouring books while her mum flirted at the pool table. Bilbo got his nickname from his love of The Hobbit. Raised in foster homes, the community at The Anchor is the closest thing he’s had to family. Regulars Frank (David Killick) and Shaun (Alan Turkington) are in almost every day. Frank, in his seventies, is a fixture at the pub. He’s seen it change hands from father to son. Shaun works construction during the week, and goes home at the weekends to see his wife and kids. Kenny (Valentine Hanson) owns the pub. It’s been a rough few months for him. His wife left around the same time he was forced to sell The Anchor.

The crew decide to have one last hurrah on The Anchor’s final night. The last of the alcohol needs to be drunk. β€œWhen it’s gone, it’s gone.” As the night unfolds, tensions rise, secrets are revealed, and decisions are reached. The five personalities of the play are dynamic and complicated, compellingly brought to life by a talented cast. Killick stands out for his precise portrayal of The Anchor’s own anchor, Frank; Kendrick for his earnest performance of the down-and-out Bilbo.

We Anchor in Hope is largely a character study. It works for the most part, thanks to the vividness of the characters and the strength of the cast. However, the lack of narrative thread can make the show feel long at times. The beginning is slow, and the play takes some time to find its stride. More shape to the story would cut down the instances when the show seems to stall or drift.

Nevertheless, Jordan has skilfully captured the brief sigh of mourning – for the comfort of the status quo, and the nostalgia for the way things were – before the necessity of moving on. This is a working-class story. All communities must adapt with the changing times, but it’s the working classes that are hit the hardest. It’s harder punches they have to roll with, and while it seems clear the crew at The Anchor will survive – they are survivors – they’ll carry the bruises with them.

Jordan, Sonnex, and Hurwitz have created a richly atmospheric show about memory, community, and what it means to let go. Pull up a barstool and join in the bitter celebration for the end of an era.

 

Reviewed by Addison Waite

Photography by Helen Murray

 


We Anchor in Hope

The Bunker until 19th October

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Welcome To The UK | β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Boots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Box Clever | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Killymuck | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
My White Best Friend | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Funeral Flowers | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | April 2019
Fuck You Pay Me | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2019
The Flies | β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2019
Have I Told You I’m Writing a Play About my Vagina? | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2019
Jade City | β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2019

 

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My White Best Friend

My White Best Friend
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The Bunker

My White Best Friend

My White Best Friend (and Other Letters Left Unsaid)

The Bunker

Reviewed – 20th March 2019

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“Using the word show seems a bit weird. It wasn’t really a show. It was an event, a sharing.”

 

Yesterday evening at The Bunker felt unlike any evening I’ve ever spent in a theatre, and as such, I felt it was right to write about it in a totally different way. I’ve introduced an I for starters, and so I’m going to introduce myself too. I’m a cis, pansexual, middle class white woman, aged 48. It feels essential to let you know this, as the series of evenings which Rachel De-Lahay and Millie Bhatia have curated put identity centre stage – racial identity, class identity, sexual identity and gender identity – and one of the things that last night made very clear, is that we can only view things through our own identity prism. So the old myth of the invisible critic just won’t wash.

The Bunker felt like a club last night. Buzzy. There was an excellent DJ, we were all standing, and we were offered a drink (rum and Ting, delicious) when we walked into the space. It was a young crowd and it looked and felt and sounded like London; like the London that is outside, that we journeyed through to get there. Which felt great. And made me realise how rare that is. There were knots of friends chatting, predominantly people of colour, and a sense of relaxed ownership, a comfortable knowledge – this night is for us, and about us – which I could only share from the edges. And that feeling taught me something, even before the show began. Even using the word show seems a bit weird. It wasn’t really a show. It was an event, a sharing.

Rachel De-Lahay’s idea is a simple one: different writers leave a letter to be read out loud by a specific performer. The letter is in a sealed envelope and the performer reads it live, having never read it before. The evening kicks off with a long letter that Rachel wrote to one of her best friends, InΓ¨s de Clercq, and it is InΓ¨s who reads it. The letter is honest, and funny and uncomfortable for InΓ¨s to read, as it is a reminder that no matter how much Rachel loves her, her race can’t help but play a part in their relationship. It is uncomfortable for any white person to hear, to witness, to think about, and that’s the point. The young woman standing in front of me was completely overwhelmed by tears half way through this reading, and, throughout the night, the electricity of words being spoken that are so often, too often, left unsaid, was palpable. There was a charge; the air crackled with it. Of urgency, of energy, of presence.

The next letter was written as a piece of spoken word poetry. Fantastic writing by Jammz; it also dealt with race in friendship, and Ben Bailey Smith (‘I’m mixed race, so I’m my own white best friend’) was direct and charming, and did the words justice. The final, and longest letter of the evening was written by Zia Ahmed and read by Zainab Hasan. This took a different form again, with Zainab reading out a selection of quotes – from Zia himself, from the Home Secretary Sajid Javid, from popular Muslim comedians – before reading Zia’s unbearably painful story of continual racist profiling which led him finally to stop his job as a nanny.

It went against the grain to give this show a star rating, as the words and stories of these artists and performers don’t need my critical validation, but they do need to be listened to. So consider my five stars a way of saying that this is essential theatre. Get yourself a ticket and open your ears.

 

Reviewed by Rebecca Crankshaw

Photography courtesy The Bunker

 


My White Best Friend (and Other Letters Left Unsaid)

The Bunker until 23rd March

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Section 2 | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2018
Breathe | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2018
Eris | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2018
Reboot: Shorts 2 | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2018
Semites | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2018
Chutney | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
The Interpretation of Dreams | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
Sam, The Good Person | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Welcome To The UK | β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Boots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019

 

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