Tag Archives: Miriam Sallon

Dirty Crusty

Dirty Crusty

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The Yard Theatre

Dirty Crusty

Dirty Crusty

The Yard Theatre

Reviewed – 28th October 2019

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β€œas completely random and unexpected as it is, it makes me inexplicably happy”

 

I feel slightly ill-equipped to properly appraise a show that employs so many different contrivances. Dirty Crusty, written by Clare Barron, begins with a plain white origami doll’s house lit from within, accompanied by a voice-over conversation between house mates. Jeanine (Akiya Henry) then appears on the upper stage followed by Victor (Douggie McMeekin) both of whom are holding giant CBBC style microphones. They deliver their conversation half facing the audience, a giant glowing moon projected behind them, and then suddenly they break in to song. They then clamber down to the main set, cast off their microphones and resume a sort of normal narrative.

I say β€˜sort of’ because Jay Miller’s direction goes on to use (amongst other things) dance, voice-over narration, another musical number, and strange employment of time. Scenes in entirely different venues, often on different days, overlap: Jeanine and Victor are entangled in bed as Synda (Abiona Omonua) starts her dance class with Jeanine, and vice versa, as Victor initiates conversations about sex fantasies with Jeanine in his flat, whilst Jeanine and Synda are still dancing together in Synda’s rehearsal space.

But whilst the production itself attempts to animate the audience’s disbelief in a myriad of ways, the dialogue and its delivery are painstakingly true to life. Jeanine is thirty-one, and she’s at a difficult juncture. Feeling she hasn’t achieved enough for her age, she looks for ways to improve herself and expand her experiences. She tries to be sexually bolder with her (sort of) boyfriend Victor, and she decides to take up ballet lessons with dance teacher Synda. Her relationships with both are complicated. Sometimes they feed her enthusiasm and sometimes they crush it. Many of the conversations are so close to the real thing that it seems near impossible that they should be scripted. McMeekin’s delivery in particular – every hesitation, every stress – paints such a whole character, full of flaws and good intentions. This seems to be Barron’s particular expertise, having created similarly dimensional characters in her previous work, Dance Nation.

The stage (as designed by Emma Bailey) is built like a wide-set puppet show box, with heavy curtains concealing different sets: One is Victor’s flat, with meticulous Muji furniture; another, Synda’s sparse room, with not much more than a yoga mat for decoration. And a third, hidden for most of the story, is Jeanine’s clothes-covered mess of a hoarder’s room. The ever opening and closing curtains, along with all the other quirky production devices, provide a dream-like quality to the story, somehow magnifying the dialogue’s nuance and conviction.

But just when you think the plot has settled into a more conventional rhythm, (slight spoiler coming up, my apologies) the show ends with a children’s ballet recital- like, actual children ballet dancing. But as completely random and unexpected as it is, it makes me inexplicably happy. And that summary might be applied to the entire play: Completely random, but it makes me inexplicably happy.

 

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Maurizio Martorana

 


Dirty Crusty

The Yard Theatre until 20th November

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
48 Hours: | β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Call it a Day | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Hotter Than A Pan | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Plastic Soul | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
A Sea Of Troubles | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Cuteness Forensics | β˜…β˜…Β½ | February 2019
Sex Sex Men Men | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
To Move In Time | β˜…β˜…Β½ | February 2019
Ways To Submit | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Armadillo | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2019

 

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Gaslight

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The Playground Theatre

Gaslight

Gaslight

The Playground Theatre

Reviewed – 24th October 2019

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β€œfraught with suspension and quiet terror”

 

Mrs Manningham (Jemima Murphy) believes she is going mad, for what other explanation could there be when keys, pendants, even paintings go missing and end up amongst her own possessions.

Her husband, Mr. Manningham (Jordan Wallace), grows seemingly impatient with her inability to remember her own small thefts and strange behaviours, and threatens the visit of a doctor who will, no doubt, prescribe the same awful fate for her as befell her mother – the madhouse.

But all is not as it seems in the Manningham household, as is revealed by a kindly though somewhat motivated stranger, Rough (Joe Mcardle).

Murphy and Wallace both play their parts admirably: Murphy flits nervously about like a small bird, trying to disguise bordering hysteria with excitable cheer. Wallace is a force, ruling with restrained, smiling fury. My only criticism for both is their choice of pronunciation. It seems a decision has been made to use modern diction for certain words: β€˜yeh’, β€˜gonna’, β€˜dunno’, sometimes dropping β€˜t’s. Perhaps this is an attempt for the performers to feel more honest in what they’re expressing, but the script was written in the β€˜30s after all, and throwing in contemporary pronunciation once in a while sounds anachronistic and awkward.

After an excruciatingly tense twenty minutes between Mr and Mrs Manningham in the first half, Mcardle’s Rough is a much-needed respite, and the audience seems to laugh out of sheer relief. Affable and without airs, Mcardle plays his part with a kind of likeable impatience, cutting the play’s unbearable discomfort with ease.

Throughout, we hear a low, ominous rumble, so faint I’m not entirely sure it’s really there. If this is on purpose, it’s awfully clever, gently gaslighting the audience. If it’s not, sound designer Herbert Homer-Warbeck should say it is and take all the credit.

In a way, it’s a shame that the phrase β€˜gaslighting’, coined from this very play, is now in such common use, obviously because no-one should gaslight anyone, but also because you know what’s happening in the play from the get. I would be interested to see if they couldn’t condense the story slightly into a 75-minute single act, in order that the plot’s big reveal might be somewhere nearer the end, rather than half way through.

That being said, Gaslight, as directed by Imy Wyatt Corner, is still fraught with suspension and quiet terror, regardless of whether we know where it’s going to end up. On leaving the theatre, my shoulders ached from two hours of sustained panic, and gripping tension.

 

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by William Waterworth

 

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Gaslight

The Playground Theatre until 10th November

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
Fanatical – the Musical | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2018
Sacha Guitry, Ma Fille Et Moi | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | January 2019
My Brother’s Keeper | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
The Jazz Age | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2019

 

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