★★★½

“the language is frequently astoundingly beautiful and provocative and could be listened to for weeks on end”

Canoe is a show that welcomes you in to its story and hugs you farewell at its close. That’s not a metaphor – writer and performer Matthew Roberts literally greets and bids goodbye to every audience member personally as they enter and leave the theatre. Moments like this encapsulate the heart of pure gold that the show carries; albeit one that occasionally beats a little too frantically.

The plot centres around Tom and David, a couple who have lost two of their adopted children in an accident and are struggling to process their grief. Canoe is an expansive and nuanced introspective into coping with loss, the legacies we leave behind, and how people can live on through their stories, incorporating a myriad of cultural and social touchstones to provide immense texture – social media, religious homophobia, Theresa May, and Charlotte’s Web are to name but a few. Roberts’ script is a textual hotbed of intersecting concepts and insights, told through spoken word and rhyme that is verbally meteoric; the language is frequently astoundingly beautiful and provocative and could be listened to for weeks on end.

However, the content beneath the words is at times lost by a script that has been adapted from a four-person show to a one-person show with the aid of director and dramaturg Struan Leslie. As Roberts bounds between characters and plot threads and anecdotes, Canoe’s strain to maintain the multiple moving parts an additional three actors on stage would allow shows, with the ways in which different story strands would inform and complement each other often feeling lost. Roberts gives a blazing performance from a script that feels it’s demanding too much – the huge leaps between characters, emotional states, and accents that are given are impressive, but it came across as though it was one man trying to sing every note in a harmony at once, where there should have been a choir; it didn’t allow for the show’s many facets to truly resonate with each other.

Canoe feels like a fervent puppy dog – desperate to please and endearing, but pouring bounds of energy into so much at once that it’s overwhelming. With a greater sense of narrative clarity, Canoe stands to make some serious waves.

Reviewed by Tom Francis

(No) Leaves on my Precious Self

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed – 9th October 2018

★★

“we are left disillusioned with the acting industry due to both the message of the piece and Fabray’s performance.”

Starting an acting career familiarly as the “third tree from the left”, Kate Fabray candidly depicts the expectation, self-doubt and rejection experienced by an emerging actor pursuing a lifelong dream. Through a combination of music, monologue and physical theatre, Fabray gives the audience a day-in-the-life whistle stop tour of the trials and tribulations of the acting world with sincerity and occasional humour.

The piece has a promising start with a striking dance that introduces the play’s motif of beauty and self-presentation. The contrasting physical struggle that follows and reappears throughout, encapsulates the accompanying mental strain of maintaining a sense of self-worth and defiance. Movement and dance appear to be Fabray’s strong suit and most comfortable forte and this is used effectively to transition between scenes and to drive the play forward.

Musical songs, ‘Maybe This Time’ and ‘There are Worse Things I could Do’, are heartfelt and offer moments of connection with the audience but miss the mark due to Fabray’s weak vocals. Many songs are off-pitch for their entirety, yet song forms a large part of this piece. This comes across as a lost opportunity to explore dance and physical theatre further, which would also enrich occasional drawn-out monologues. The saviour of this piece is Fabray’s writing skill. Her poetic description of the tree which symbolises her growth as an actor, is poignant and demonstrates an exciting capability that is not fully realised in the delivery.

The tirelessness of auditioning also translates to the audience although this dangerously drifts towards a rant. Witty moments in the piece, and instances where Fabray breaks the fourth wall to address the audience as fellow auditionees, really shine but certainly leave them desiring more. Performed slicker and wittier, the audition scenes would really pack a punch.

Fabray describes the act of putting her self-esteem in the hands of strangers in auditions. As audience members we somewhat add to the “vicious cycle of uncertainty” however it is unclear whether this irony is intentional. Lacking self-enhancing humour, she risks leaving us with a sense of culpability and forges an inconsistent connection.

The triumphant self-empowerment that concludes (No) Leaves on my Precious Self is slightly outweighed by the sense of defeat throughout. With further development, it could be extremely affecting and could reinstil the “magical power of performing arts” that Fabray repeatedly refers to. Unfortunately, we are left disillusioned with the acting industry due to both the message of the piece and Fabray’s performance.

Canoe

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed – 25th October 2018

★★★½

“the language is frequently astoundingly beautiful and provocative and could be listened to for weeks on end”

Canoe feels like a fervent puppy dog – desperate to please and endearing, but pouring bounds of energy into so much at once that it’s overwhelming. With a greater sense of narrative clarity, Canoe stands to make some serious waves.

Reviewed by Tom Francis

Canoe

King’s Head Theatre until 26th October

Previously reviewed at this venue:

(No) Leaves on my Precious Self

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed – 9th October 2018

★★

“we are left disillusioned with the acting industry due to both the message of the piece and Fabray’s performance.”

Reviewed by Beth Partington

(No) Leaves on my Precious Self

King’s Head Theatre until 13th October

Previously reviewed at this venue: