“an uneven and ultimately disappointing piece of work”
The idea behind The Thread is a beautiful one. The programme says; ‘The Thread is essentially the fundamental human values that we all share, no matter our religion, our ethnicity or beliefs. It is a notion that is both personal, timely and relatable, and at the same time universal and timeless. In a few words, the Thread is the energy that connects us to the universe.’
Unfortunately, this beautiful idea is not brought to life in performance. The beginning is promising, as dancers snake in sinuous chains, weaving threads of connection. Then they fragment into smaller groups, navigating a stage lit in geometric blocks. There are lovely, slow moving tableaux of Minoan women, a few sections of faster moving contemporary that never really find their energy and a rather bizarre set piece where dancers wear what appear to be cow bells around their waists. I found myself wanting some wild action to inject some zest into the proceedings.
At one point the music roars and swoops as the male dancers perform the sort of Greek dancing where men have their arms around each other’s shoulders and slap their legs and feet. It was reminiscent of being in a taverna in the Plaka in a thunderstorm, and the waiters deciding to have a knees up. But not as much fun without a view of the Acropolis and a glass of ouzo. It is the type of dancing that can be powerful and gripping when you are close to it, feeling the excitement in a party or a restaurant. But it is hopelessly lost on the large Sadler’s Wells stage. It recurred several times. The end of the piece was when it became interesting and had a bit of oompf. But it was all a bit late by then.
Vangelis’ music is atmospheric and compelling. Michael Hulls’ lighting is simple and effective. Mary Katrantzou’s costumes are evocative of ancient Greek art, or elegantly functional. But Russell Maliphant’s choreography fails to convey the beautiful idea of The Thread. The mixing of traditional Greek dancing, which has grown out of communities as part of celebrations and social cohesion, with contemporary styles doesn’t work well, resulting in an uneven and ultimately disappointing piece of work.
“an ambitious project … nicely done, with simple choreography and unified breath”
10 is an ambitious project for an hour long play; to distill the lives of ten women from history. Luckily, Lizzie Milton’s script lives up to the challenge well. When the audience enter the five women, who will take on two roles each, are standing around the space, statuesque in long dark blue dresses. The beginning and the transitions are nicely done, with simple choreography and unified breath. Director Nastazja Somers has created a strong framework on which to base the strands of the women’s stories and the music, sound and lighting, by Nicola Chang and Rajiv Pattani, support and complement the action beautifully. The casting is largely race and age blind, and it works really well.
Pamela Jikiemi took on the contrasting roles of Aethelflaed and Mary Prince. As Aethelflaed, the earliest recorded female ruler in Britain, she was impressive; portraying pride in achievement, and the shock of not being remembered. As Mary Prince, a woman who escaped slavery and terrible ill treatment to become only the second black woman to have her autobiography published, she was magnificent. Mary’s strength and anger, her suffering, and her pride shone through, and her sorrow when she thought of her husband was genuinely moving.
Rebecca Crankshaw was Brenda Proctor and Ada Lovelace. Proctor played a central, but largely undocumented, role in the miner’s strike, leading twenty-three thousand women on a march from Staffordshire to London. This piece was the least successful, not really conveying Proctor’s strength. There was so much concentration on her warm offerings of tea and cake that her activism rather got lost. Crankshaw gave a strong performance as Ada Lovelace, although I found her declarations, such as ‘I’m bloody brilliant, aren’t I!” rather jarring. There was no sense of her as a woman of her time.
Lydia Bakelmun played Princess Caraboo and Noor Inayat Khan, bringing warmth and charm to both roles. Princess Caraboo was a young woman from Devon who managed to convince people both in the UK and the USA that she was a princess from a faraway land. When her deception was discovered she settled in Bristol and sold leeches to the Infirmary. Bakelmun’s Caraboo was flirtatious and appealing, sure of her beauty and delightful. In the very different role of Noor Inayat Khan she gave us a portrayal of a brave and very human heroine. Khan was of Indian and American descent, and was in the Special Forces during WW11. She gave the audience a dilemma. Would you kill a nazi to save the lives of innocent people? Could you do it? Khan’s courage, arrest and execution, her final cry of ‘liberte’ were beautifully portrayed.
Beth Eyre’s first role was the Welsh artist Gwen John. John was recognised for her portraits of women, although she was overshadowed by her more famous brother, Augustus. Eyre’s Gwen was full of self doubt, imbued with a sense of faith, yet anxious about an upcoming exhibition. Her second role was that of Joan Clarke, who worked at Bletchley Park decoding the Enigma machine. Remembered now for her brief engagement to Alan Turing, Clarke was a gifted mathematician who made an important contribution the the war effort. Eyre showed her as a careful, deep thinking woman, concerned to make a word where everyone would be equally valued and welcome. Don’t try to knock the wall down, create a way through – a door maybe, she said.
Naomi Knox gave us Mary Seacole and Constance Markievicz, two very different women, both brought beautifully to life. Seacole was British-Jamaican woman who went to nurse in the Crimea, going there at her own expense. Knox showed her as a strong, woman, fulfilled by her work and her care for the patients. Then as a person lost, having to return home after doing so much. The warm strength of Mary Seacole was sharply contrasted by the harder strength of Constance Markievicz, a political revolutionary who fought for Ireland’s freedom from Britain. Knox was fierce, deadly determined, ready to shoot, but showing, too, Markievicz’s isolation in prison and her belief in a better world.
The play’s ten women, some better known than others, each made their own unique contributions. As an audience, enjoying the performances, we also learned about these extraordinary people and their lives, without ever feeling that we were being taught.
