“The play is a fiendishly clever piece of writing, served brilliantly by a formidable company”
They say it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for’, or ‘never trust a smiling cat’. Although not perfect in their analogy, it would be a similar phrase that describes how we feel walking away from Isley Lynn’s new play “The Swell”. Lynn’s writing is deceptively artful and astute, crafty yet judiciously crafted. She has that rare gift of duping us into thinking we are on safe ground, but then abruptly pulling that ground away from under our feet.
Conceived five years ago as part of Hightide’s summer writing festival, director Hannah Hauer-King has helped steer the piece towards its premiere at the Orange Tree Theatre. Her close attachment shows up in the crisp and sensitive staging of the text. Specifically played in the round there is nowhere really to hide; a challenge that is embraced. When not directly involved in in the action, the characters are still ever present; in shadows, watching, chanting or silently echoing the unfolding drama centre stage.
The “Swell” in the play’s title refers variously to the crest of a wave, the metaphorical rush of blood to the heart when in love, or the rising of a chorister’s chest. But also, to the swelling in the brain of a blood clot that can cause a stroke – which informs the bulk of the brilliantly executed shifts and twists that shape our understanding of the characters’ journeys; their motives, relationships and deceptions.
The action shifts between then and now. Annie and Bel are seemingly in love, preparing for their wedding. Until Flo – a childhood friend of Annie’s – crashes into their lives with predictable results. Suffice to say the wedding never takes place. Jessica Clark fires Flo’s spirit with an energy that races ahead of her bubbly free spirit. Saroja-Lily Ratnavel, as the young Annie, veils her emotional scar tissue with taut jitteriness that borders on violence, while Ruby Crepin-Glyne’s rootless Bel is caught in the slow dance of domesticity, aching for the tempo to change. Sophie Ward, Shuna Snow and Viss Elliot Safavi are the girls thirty years later. The extraordinarily accomplished performances tease out the intervening backstory with an understated intensity that boils beneath the gentle simmering. It feels like a caress, but all along it is scorching us.
The play is a fiendishly clever piece of writing, served brilliantly by a formidable company of actresses. You cannot avoid the fact that queerness runs through it like marble. However, like Brokeback Mountain for example, the fears and prejudice sadly still experienced are addressed without coming across as a piece of queer writing. Sexual identity is not being scrutinised, yet questions and assumptions of personal identity are thrillingly exposed and cannily upturned.
The literal and the figurative walk hand in hand. Imagine them walking through a rather predictable romcom, but then they turn a corner and are ambushed by a psychological thriller. One in which lies come in all shades of white, and betrayal can be the kindest act. The mood is underpinned, though not particularly enhanced, by Nicola T. Chang’s a Capella vocal score. The essence lies within the dialogue and the drama, and swells into a fine fusion of writing and performance.
“From the prologue to the epilogue the atmosphere is quite electric.”
Most of us live in the real universe most of the time. For over thirty years now, Quentin Tarantino has led us intermittently into the ‘realer than real’ universe. There are similarities, and connections to real-life sources but everything is “more”. Exaggerated, graphic, stylised, violent. The unreal becomes reality, and vice versa. Most of us have dipped – or dived – into (at varying depths) the Tarantino Cinematic Universe and emerged with the soundtrack still swimming around our heads. The films make us listen to the music in a different way. “Tarantino Live” takes the songs and brings them to life once more in a stunning, genre-defying, mash-up, immersive rock musical.
Woven into this bold, full-throated rock concert is the iconic Tarantino dialogue. It doesn’t matter in the slightest whether you’re a die-hard fan, or completely unfamiliar with the films; what unfolds before your eyes, and ears, will make you look at theatre in a different way. Most of the music stems from the era of vinyl but the structure of the show is built around the modern concept of the playlist. Split into chapters rather than scenes there is no chronological logic. The points of view, close ups, wide angles, jump cuts and crossfades are scattered around the studio like gunfire. The action takes place on the stage as well as around us and amongst us. It is relentless but we can’t get enough.
It’s full title, “Tarantino Live: Fox Force Five & The Tyranny of Evil Men”, loosely sums up the concept. The ‘Fox Force Five’ comprise a group of superwomen made up of five of Tarantino’s most iconic female characters as they take on the ‘Tyranny of Evil Men’ in a battle of revenge. The concept gets swept aside, however, by the sheer power and skill of the vocal performances. To single anyone out would be merely to reel off the entire cast list, just as to attempt to match the actors with the characters would be like trying to follow a chaotic medley of accelerated rolling credits. It is possible, but my word count advises against it. Needless to say, the talent on display is so much more than a triple threat. The lines between orchestra and cast, lead and ensemble, actor, singer, dancer, musician are blurred.
The disciplines are brought together seamlessly, the show having evolved over the last decade. ‘For The Record’, led by adapter and director Anderson Davis with associate director and choreographer Sumie Maeda, launched the show at The Bourbon Room, a small bar on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles in 2010. Immediately a ‘must see’ cabaret show, it was awarded the seal of approval from Tarantino himself, and along the way has been adapted in response to each new addition to Tarantino’s canon of work.
From the prologue to the epilogue the atmosphere is quite electric. It is simultaneously like a roller coaster ride but also not. It’s not Hollywood, nor film, nor musical theatre, nor rock gig. Yet it is all of those. It throws in the air different scenes from different movies, but when they land there is a kind of beginning and middle and end. But even if it doesn’t make sense – from the prologue to the epilogue we are transfixed. Motionless while our heads spin. And we could go on the journey again and again. It is a must, whether you’re a Tarantino geek or if you’ve never seen a Tarantino film in your life. At least you’ll be familiar with the (thirty-plus) classic songs. But not in this context.
Unlike anything you’ll come across in London at the moment, “Tarantino Live” is, in a nutshell, theatre with attitude.
