Tag Archives: Ira Mandela Siobhan

16 POSTCODES

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Pleasance Theatre

16 POSTCODES at the Pleasance Theatre

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“Regan clearly has a talent for light-hearted comedy and storytelling”

16 Postcodes is a series of short, autobiographic stories told by actor Jessica Regan about her experiences living in London. An audience member is invited up on stage to pick a postcode (written on a postcard and attached to the backdrop of the stage) and Regan performs the selected story. Each story is about a different London gaff and the spans are wide: from North to South, East to West. Regan has been on an expansive and diverse journey, trying to find what London means to her.

She greets the audience as they enter, innocently asking them where they’re from, to get them thinking about locations. She riffs with ease, nudging the audience into feeling comfortable about mild participation.

Regan clearly has a talent for light-hearted comedy and storytelling, combining both in this easy viewing series. As we dart through different postcodes, Regan covers important topics, such as: women’s safety, homelessness, feeling out of place, tight landlords. And she does this with a likeable comedic edge, blending naturalism with stand-up comedy.

The staging was a bare setup; simply with a table, two chairs and a small backdrop of greenery where Regan attaches the postcards with postcodes on. It could’ve been even simpler, giving her more freedom of movement, something which the show lacked. While the rough and ready set added to the charm of the piece, it felt clunky, at times; with Regan getting stuck behind obstacles while addressing the audience. There was use of a mic at one point too, which raised questions about its use and the reason for it.

The lighting and sound, too, were basic. With small changes either signifying time of day or change of scene, rather than mood and atmosphere. This meant that the show relied solely on Regan to deliver engaging narrative, which she did execute a lot of the time. The humour was a little tame and lacked some renter grit, but it made for an entertaining fifty minutes.

Any Londoner would see etchings of themselves in these short tales of renting, with humour used as a relieving mode of coping and a medium which ties the community together. There is felt, lived experience in the storytelling. 16 Postcodes finishes with some sad truths about the state of the renting sector. The show covers a timeline which starts in 2004, and the factual ending is a stark reminder of the situation a large number of Londoners find themselves in.


16 POSTCODES at the Pleasance Theatre

Reviewed on 29th October 2024

by Curtis Dean

Photography by Steve Ullathorne

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

GIRLS REALLY LISTEN TO ME | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2024
GISELLE: REMIX | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2024
GWYNETH GOES SKIING | β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2024
CASTING THE RUNES | β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2023
DIANA: THE UNTOLD AND UNTRUE STORY | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2022
DIRTY CORSET | β˜…β˜…Β½ | April 2022
SHE SEEKS OUT WOOL | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2022
DOG SHOW | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2021

16 POSTCODES

16 POSTCODES

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Robin Hood

Robin Hood: The Legend. Re-Written

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Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

ROBIN HOOD: THE LEGEND. RE-WRITTEN at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre

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Robin Hood

“The performances are uniformly strong, joyful, silly and skilful”

 

Everyone has their own favourite image of Robin Hood, whether it be Kevin Costner, Jason Connery, Russell Crowe (really?); or the Disney rendition. Or a camp pantomime outlaw in green tights. Carl Grose has taken three of those archetypes and has them gate-crash his alternative – and quite eccentric – version of the legend. The device is an embodiment of the quirky humour that, unlike the sleight of hand archery skills on display, often misses its target.

Part of the problem is that nobody, including Grose, seems to know where the target is. You can’t see the wood for the trees in this overgrown Sherwood Forest where tangled brambles of offbeat ideas lie in wait like thorny catch weed. You don’t need to wade too far in to get lost. Or frustrated enough to want to turn back. Tax collectors in hi vis jackets delight at relieving commoners of their bow fingers. Fingers which, no less, end up in a casket the sheriff keeps hidden away, occasionally lifting the lid to allow the dismembered digits to prophesise to him in squeaky voices. We are in a pretty slaughterous world where scarlet blood puddles and muddles the greenery. Where fact, fiction, myth and legend collide at the whim of an insurgent history teacher on acid.

The opening moments are magical, the scene set by the Balladeer (Nandi Bhebhe; velvet voiced and spellbinding). The landscape is borrowed from Jez Butterworth’s β€˜Jerusalem’ as the mystical atmosphere swiftly morphs into a kind of β€˜state of the nation’ play. β€œWho owns England?”, the downtrodden ask. Sheriff Baldwyn (a commanding performance from Alex Mugnaioni) keeps the King in a permanent state of befuddlement by spiking his tea in order to have free reign to be as dastardly as can be. Paul Hunter’s portrayal of the king is a masterclass in comic buffoonery, while still conveying that this hapless monarch knows much more than he is letting on.

Chiara Stephenson’s split-level set crudely separates the two classes, but there is plenty of social mobility. Not least the sheriff’s grog-guzzling wife, Marian (Ellen Robertson – in fine, playful form). We are never quite sure of her motives, but her disdain of, and possibly guilt over, her privilege drives her to extremes of disguise, the likes of which would be far too big a spoiler to reveal here. An ensemble troupe of Merry Men (excuse the Olde Worlde gender reference) create the required mayhem to subvert the established order. Apparently, it all started with a plan to build a new road, putting much of the forest at risk. A rather throwaway shuffle onto the environmentalist bandwagon, but I guess Grose felt the need.

The performances are uniformly strong, joyful, silly and skilful. It must have been a task, but director Melly Still guides the company through the mayhem with a steady hand. For the most part. At interval, the lawns are littered with bemused expressions heading for solace at the bar. It is short lived. The second act gets jaw-droppingly bizarre as we become lost in a sea of abdications, beheadings and resurrections. In the spirit of true farce, some ends are tied up, but no matter how hard we try the disjointed fragments of this production never really meet in our minds. The theatrical trickery has to be admired (Ira Mandela Siobhan is compelling as the conjuring but doomed villain, Gisburne) but the overall journey is unnavigated. Lost in the forest, left to make it up as it goes along.

As the sun sets and a crescent moon hangs above Regent’s Park, we file out into the night wondering if what we have just seen really did come from the same writer who penned β€œDead Dog in a Suitcase” and β€œThe Grinning Man”. The tagline in the PR blurb pronounces β€œThink you know the story of Robin Hood? Think again!”. It promises revelation, but the question remains the same as we leave the theatre.

 

Reviewed on 23rd June 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Once On This Island | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2023
Legally Blonde | β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2022
Romeo and Juliet | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | June 2021

 

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