Tag Archives: Helen Maybanks

Message in a Bottle

Message in a Bottle

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Peacock Theatre

Message in a Bottle

Message in a Bottle

Peacock Theatre

Reviewed – 19th February 2020

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“Each moment is a highlight, each step a carefully chosen phrase. An organic amalgam of light, sound, choreography.”

 

β€œMessage In A Bottle” is the latest extravaganza from Kate Prince and her ZooNation company. The queen of hip-hop, Prince has made her mark already with the hits β€˜Some Like it Hip Hop’, β€˜Into the Hoods’ and β€˜Everybody’s Talking About Jamie’. Drawing on Sting’s extensive back catalogue she has woven together a story of a refugee family in crisis. The more Juke Box Musicals proliferate in the West End, the more it becomes apparent that story tellers have problems fitting existing songs to a pre-conceived narrative. Whether Juke Box Dance (if such a term exists) is an easier option, I wouldn’t know, but the skill and virtuosity of the dancers make the story crystal clear and, for the most part, nothing jars with the choice of music.

Sting has often gone with the flow of the zeitgeist of socio-political opinion which, in turn, has shaped his lyrics. So it is no surprise that they lend themselves to the themes of displacement and civil war. Set in an unnamed country, we witness the plight of a community torn apart as their homes are destroyed, and we follow one family in particular on their journey to a new, initially hostile land. The music can’t tell this story on its own, yet the choreography can. Prince is a master of the art, ZooNation an inspiration, mixing street dance and ballet with ease. It is almost impossible to identify the individual dancers with the characters on stage, but no one needs to be singled out here. The whole company is exceptional; at times moving as one, breaking apart and coming together again with pops and pirouettes, break-dance moves and a gymnastic flair that is breath-taking.

We are swept along by the dual currents of the choreography and the music. β€œKing of Pain” pinpoints the explosion of unrest, a black sun hanging over Ben Stones’ minimalist set. β€œShape of my Heart” is a beautiful moment, a loving oasis amidst the chaos. β€œThe Bed’s Too Big Without You” is a stunning combination of the dance, moving in perfect time to Andrzej Goulding’s projections and Natasha Chivers’ lighting. Each moment is a highlight, each step a carefully chosen phrase. An organic amalgam of light, sound, choreography. And the music. However, there are occasional jarring moments. β€œDon’t Stand So Close To Me”, for example, sat uncomfortably with the vision of black-hooded oppressors manhandling the refugees. It was impossible to divorce the original meaning of the lyrics from the scene being played out onstage. Elsewhere it worked better. The undertones of menace and stalking inherent in β€œEvery Breath You Take” were well emphasised.

It’s not all doom and gloom. β€œLove is the Seventh Wave” opened up the skies to a dawn of hope, the black sun now a bright star. But the real stars of the show are the dancers. You’ll be singing Sting’s songs directly to them; β€œEvery move you make, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Maybanks

 


Message in a Bottle

Peacock Theatre until 21st March

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
Tango Fire | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Hotel | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Yamato – Passion | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Beats On Pointe | β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2019
Some Like It Hip Hop | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2019
The Snowman | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2019

 

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Donmar Warehouse

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Donmar Warehouse

Reviewed – 23rd October 2019

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“cleverly creeps under our skin as a piece of theatre and leaves us with a lot to contemplate”

 

A woman breaks into her parents’ home to steal money for drugs; a prisoner sees every object as a possible way of killing herself; a sex worker waits in the cold for an extra ten pounds…

For forty years, Clean Break has been changing the future of women during and after their time in prison by both providing an outlet to challenge their misrepresentation in popular entertainment and as a formative process for learning, expression and evolution. Alice Birch’s commission to celebrate this gives carte blanche from a selection of 100 scenes – any number, any order – which address the manifold causes, processes and effects of being caught up in the criminal justice system. By the very nature of the crimes women commit, locking them away is less a safety measure for the rest of society than distancing them from their own threats with devastating repercussions for them, those they depend on and who depend on them. Director, Maria Aberg, has carefully chosen and arranged her selection to touch on lives blighted by a structure which does not confront these complex pastoral issues.

With a brilliant choice of cast, the scope for illustrating the breadth of age, race and class of these women works well visually as well as within the script. Rosie Elnile’s versatile set of raised, individual box rooms around a central space forms different levels of impact for the audience, from the feeling of observed, intimate conversations of abusive relationships and foster care to being drawn into the group spirit of prison life. Some scenes work better than others, however, which produces a somewhat uneven flow. After fragments of emotional experiences at home and in prison, of mothers, daughters, prisoners and staff, the action’s centrepiece (and scene number 100) is a dinner party of old friends. Here Birch brings together all the elements of the good-doing, professional society, patting each other on the back and having another glass of wine. The overlapping conversation between the guests is superb, hypocrisy slowly smouldering as their personalities unfold (the detective, the documentary maker, the therapist, the charity volunteers…) until the one outsider, played by Shona Babayemi, in a passionate outburst, can stand the insincerity no longer.

There are strong performances all round, though our natural expectations for an imposed narrative makes it difficult to completely engage with the characters. Thusitha Jayasundera shows us the painful impotence of a mother who is told her daughter has committed suicide in prison and we feel the confused heartbreak of Joanna Horton as the mother who sees no option for her children but to kill them. In a truly sobering moment, Lucy Edkins and Kate O’Flynn’s quietly powerful final scene as mother and daughter sums up the tragic personal loss of the ignored. Despite the dark and distressing subject, the writing, acting and direction balances sadness with humour. β€˜Blank’ cleverly creeps under our skin as a piece of theatre and leaves us with a lot to contemplate.

 

Reviewed by Joanna Hetherington

Photography by Helen Maybanks

 


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Donmar Warehouse until 30th November

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
Appropriate | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | August 2019

 

Click here to see our most recent reviews