“streamlining and simplified stagecraft would make it breathe more easily; but it is still a worthy piece of theatre”
It is refreshing to see the Park’s studio space used so inventively. Dialektikon entices with its visual tricks, enticing and varied staging, and exceptional live music. Occasionally obfuscatory, the drama loses itself in a combination of intellectual verbosity and abstract storytelling. However, exploding with ideas, and with plenty of power and substance, this premiere is well worth watching.
Conceptually, Dialektikon is vast. Unifying myth with real debate, and endeavouring to find the common truth in both, it does well to sustain the audience’s interest without an interval. This is primarily down to the exceptional design of Carl Robertshaw and Jonathan Samuels in particular. Porous fabrics throwing shapes on the walls, every colour in the spectrum reflecting off diamond surfaces and the leaping, undulating bodies of the company. The use of shadow theatre was compelling and beautiful, and the top of the show was one of the best I’ve seen in a long while. The puppetry also was a visual treat, and a much needed diversion from the intense atmosphere created by the cast of nine. Kate Luxmoore, composer and instrumentalist, and Stanley Ohios on drums, brought the whole play up a notch. It was a joy to have live music used so nimbly, creatively and expertly to interplay with the stage action. The company must be commended for working so well as a team, enshrining many theatrical practices whilst adding their own flavour of innovation.
Adébayo Bolaji’s ambitious directing showcased some very visually striking moments. The cast of male, ‘real’ people – among them Allen Ginsberg and R.D. Laing – formed a dynamic chorus, stamping and chanting, performing with passion, conviction, and the genuine support of a committed ensemble. Benjamin Victor’s lithe and energetic performance was the perfect combination of entrancing and unsettling. Mary Nyambura as the eyes-wide-open Miranda was calm, elegant and an excellent fulcrum. Ayuda Wedo’s commanding stage presence elevated the drama.
That said, though the piece had strong performances and many watchable set movement pieces, the transitions in, out of and between them were sometimes rough around the edges, such that staging did not always compliment what was said. When they supported one another, the text and the directing were marvellous. But they frequently clashed in an overindulgent spree, leaving the emotional vigour and weight of the play flattened. The relationships between characters were sacrificed for soundbites and punchy political messages, which left both rather wanting, and the play’s ultimate impact less hard-hitting than it deserved to be.
Dialektikon has many strengths. It coalesces a lot of matter into something which, at its best, truly exhilarates. Dramaturgical streamlining and simplified stagecraft would make it breathe more easily; but it is still a worthy piece of theatre.
“Newham and the rest of the production team have serviced these plays well. They are just right and never overdone”
Hidden in plain sight in an alleyway off Hampstead’s High Street, Pentameters Theatre takes its charming home, where it has lived for fifty years. Old photos of historic theatrical greats pave the walls; nooks and crannies are filled with books and records; and the seats in the front row are an assortment of armchairs. The venue itself is as much a part of the action as what takes place on its oblong-ish stage. I was welcomed and shown to my seat by founder Léonie Scott-Matthews. It felt like to be in the theatre was to be a part of a secret party of authentic live art devotees. I was rather captivated by it all before the show had even begun.
To celebrate their fiftieth anniversary, Pentameters are working their way through rather beautiful stagings of Tennessee Williams’ early one-act plays, which he produced with amazing frequency and facility. Midnight in Manhattan transports the audience to New York, to three unhappy and cursed marital and extramarital situations. Theatrical readings of two of Williams’ poems aptly punctuate the drama.
Subtle jazz selected by Sound Designer Lee Ryda created a seamless through line as one piece moved to the next. Godfrey Old’s set used the space effectively, creating a bedroom and a living area simply but distinctly. Attention to detail, such as the labels on the bottles either being removed or in period, would have made the design great. Each central woman in each play wore a silk dressing gown, which was a lovely touch. Old’s hand-drawn publicity design is perfectly in keeping with Williams’ style: reflective of reality, yet slightly dreamlike. Ollie Edwards’ lighting design was simple and effective, but a lamp or other form of onstage light would have added a further layer of intimacy.
Every Twenty Minutes has a sardonic humour, which Andrea Milton-Furtlotti and Richard Stephenson Winter played very well, by preserving the text’s genius depressing sincerity. However, to mount the irritable tension between the couple, silence between retorts could have been used more effectively, to justify the Woman’s sudden outburst at the Man. Milton-Furlotti, in a difficult role as the sidelined wife, fleshed out her performance by avoiding being too pathetic, which kept the tennis match with her husband more interesting. Ava Amande in The Pink Bedroom was the perfect balance of haughty and tragic.
Director Séamus Newham’s choice to double up the Man in Every Twenty Minutes with the Man in The Pink Bedroom and Joe Cartwright in The Fat Man’s Wife works very well, as this allows the texts to interrelate, and their poignancy to hit home. Therefore, the tantalising offer to the audience is that Amande’s character is the lover of the Man in Every Twenty Minutes, as well as of the Man in The Pink Bedroom. The silent characters in one play are allowed to speak in the next. Stephenson Winter’s performance in all three is expertly odious – we love to hate him as the poor women in his life do. And David Angland as the Woman’s Younger Man in The Pink Bedroom and Jessica Boyde’s younger admirer, Dennis Merriwether in The Fat Man’s Wife, represents the possibility of a heavenly escape for these trapped women. That they can only escape by another man’s possession reminds the audience of just how trapped they are. Angland plays Dennis with youthful energy and just a hint of the tortured.
In terms of quality of writing, complexity of situation and length of duration, Williams certainly builds up to the final play in the trio, The Fat Man’s Wife. This is also the only play in the trio Midnight In Manhattan where the characters have names – they are allowed to grow to being more than archetypes and metaphors of unhappy predicaments. Jessica Boyde is utterly hypnotic. Her performance stands out in this strong company of five by its nuance and tenderness. There is a brilliant moment where her husband unclasps her dress, and it is clear that the spark in their relationship is long extinguished.
Newham and the rest of the production team have serviced these plays well. They are just right and never overdone. Overall attention to detail in the staging and more time for pause in the first two plays would have fully realised the precise tragedy of Williams’ writing. But I recommend Midnight in Manhattan with confidence, and Pentameters with a happy heart.
