★★★★

“Vaguely Gothic, but down to earth; a touch of the supernatural brushing against domestic tragedy”

A crackling wail, somewhere between a synthesized didgeridoo and a death rattle, rises from the red earth, swelling into an anguished crescendo while three nameless women hiss with venom, spitting bitter fear and loathing at a corpse we cannot see. The mother and two daughters move and speak in staccato, jarring rhythms; locked in their state of shock and disbelief, dread and relief. The lifeless body is their husband and father, who gasped his last with a bullet through the neck.

This is not going to be comfortable viewing. Angus Cerini’s “The Bleeding Tree” is a hard-hitting murder ballad, poetic in its delivery yet full of raw rage. Mariah Gale is the mother while Elizabeth Dulau and Alexandra Jensen play the daughters, interchangeable and often indistinguishable from each other. The emotional power is impressive as they sway between culpability and victimhood. Their abuser, now lifeless on the ground, still torments them.

The one flaw in this otherwise impeccable hour-long play is that we are never sure whose side we are on. But then maybe that is the whole point of Cerini’s writing. The lines between the abused and the abuser become blurred. We never learn the full extent or true nature of the suffering caused by the deceased, but we are stealthily led to believe his end is justified. Yet somehow, we are not asked to judge. We are witnesses but not the jury.

Ali Hunter’s atmospheric lighting places the action in an eternal twilight. Jasmine Swan’s simple setting cleverly conveys the internal claustrophobia of these characters while also evoking the bleak terracotta backdrop of the Outback where further perils may lie. A knock at the door causes panic. The women ripple in unison as their savage secret is in danger of being discovered by their neighbours. Gale, Dulau and Jensen deftly switch into the roles of the outsiders; Mr Jones and Mrs Smith, and the postman-come-policeman who feed them with alibis and cover-ups. The beautifully flowing dialogue belies the complex issues bubbling underneath. Many a blind eye is being turned. Yet it seems that the events that led to this bloody conclusion were also equally ignored by those that perhaps should have seen it coming.

Sophie Drake’s minimal staging allows the cast to focus on the crucial and radical text. We learn what ‘The Bleeding Tree’ of the play’s title refers to, and it is quite harrowing. The protagonists may be left with mixed feelings eating away at them, from the inside out, but that is nothing compared to the literal fate of the decomposing body of evidence before them that needs to be disposed of.

“The Bleeding Tree” forces us to face important questions. Instead of offering answers it dresses them in atmospheric layers of theatricality. The result is something quite extraordinary. Vaguely Gothic, but down to earth; a touch of the supernatural brushing against domestic tragedy. Cerini writes with the pen of a poet but the mind of a crime writer. A thrilling combination that, combined with the excellent performances, is a theatrical experience that makes us look at its extreme subject matter in a new light.

FUN AT THE BEACH ROMP-BOMP-A-LOMP!! at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“If at times the show feels like it might sink beneath the waves, the performers are on hand to rescue it”

It’s hard to believe that we are barely three weeks away from the longest day of the year. The first day of summer. The clouds over London are grey, and a chill wind cuts through concrete avenues peopled by grim figures hiding under umbrellas. Not a Hawaiian shirt in sight, and thoughts of romping on a beach are… well – just thoughts. Vague dreams or distant memories.

Until, that is, you pass through the doors of Southwark Playhouse into the surreal world that is “Fun at the Beach Romp-Bomp-A-Lomp!!”. A world where the sun shines, albeit still only metaphorically, and where you’d have to be a real grouch to stop your mouth twitching into the shape of a smile. You have to admire the show’s creators, and their candid confession about the inspiration behind this romp through musical theatre. Having witnessed a jukebox musical that was (in their words) ‘staggeringly painful’ to watch, Martin Landry (book) and Brandon Lambert (music and lyrics) set themselves the task of writing a musical that was even worse.

And there you have it. Every step of the way Landry and Lambert expected the axe to fall, the plug to be pulled and test audiences to walk away. However, judging by the gathering at Southwark, they can happily bathe in, and surf on, the waves of laughter that come crashing down on their gag-riddled shores. It is not quite a jukebox musical. The musical numbers are all parodies and pastiches of well-known originals. The show is itself a parody. You begin by thinking it is making fun of the genre, but all it is really doing is making fun of itself. The butt of its own joke.

A simple premise. Each song title is a synonym. ‘It’s In His Kiss’ becomes ‘It’s In His Peck’ and makes great fun of the banal question and answer lyrical format. ‘Locomotion’ is now ‘The Ocean Motion’, The Beach Boys ‘Surfin’ U.S.A.’ morphs into ‘Surf America’ (genius, eh?), ‘Big Boys Don’t Cry’ is repackaged as ‘Mature Women Don’t Whine’… you get the drift. ‘Such fun’ – as Patricia Hodge would say in joyful desperation in a certain television sitcom. Which is the point. Don’t even try to make sense of the book onto which the songs are dolloped like an over-generous scoop of ice-cream onto a soggy, wafer-thin cone.

A motley crew of drifters skim onto the sun-drenched seaside to enter a bizarre ‘King – or Queen – of the beach’ competition. The challenges start out innocently enough before descending into a bit of a bloodbath. Meanwhile, virginal love matches swiftly nosedive into scandalous sagas of submarine adultery, and the supernatural is occasionally thrown onto the sand like twisted pieces of flotsam. A lot of the humour relies on repetition and stretching the gag to breaking point, but there are gems to be picked up if you’re in the right mood to detect them.

If at times the show feels like it might sink beneath the waves, the performers are on hand to rescue it, like breezy, Westcoast lifeguards relishing the fact they have the best job in the world. Their tongue-in-cheek sense of fun is infectious as they splash on the factor fifty cliché’s. Yet there is little protection to be had from the relentless cheesiness and silliness, so all that’s left is to just let go, ignore your bewilderment, and join in the fun. We are powerless. Even the privilege of making fun of it is taken away from us – they are doing such a good job of it themselves. Therein lies its genius, exemplified by some artfully and brilliantly timed lines of dialogue. “Even the stupidest musical can survive if it has one decent song”. Quad erat demonstradum. What more can I say!

THE BLEEDING TREE at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“Vaguely Gothic, but down to earth; a touch of the supernatural brushing against domestic tragedy”

THE BLEEDING TREE at Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 3rd June 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Lidia Crisafulli

Previously reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

THE BLEEDING TREE

THE BLEEDING TREE

FUN AT THE BEACH ROMP-BOMP-A-LOMP!! at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“If at times the show feels like it might sink beneath the waves, the performers are on hand to rescue it”