Tag Archives: Nick Walker

FAULT LINES

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Edinburgh Festival Fringe

FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe

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“the choreography was extraordinarily creative, sharp and inspired throughout”

Fault Lines, written by Nick Walker and performed by Lรฎla Dance, pulls no punches. Whilst itโ€™s not exactly a theatre of cruelty, the immediacy of its metaphors and the emotions there within strike you from moment one. The show, very explicitly, tries at the much worked message of righteous panic around the climate; the glaring, world-altering issue which, on account of its relatively abstract, gradual danger, gets ignored the world over by short-term, hedonistic desires.

As a dance piece (dancers Joe Darby, Amy Morvell, Luke Brown, Yanki Yau, Coralie Calfond, Ivan Merino Gaspar and Madison Burgess), the categories for assessment are more limited than their theatrical counterparts, at least to a layman such as myself. First, the movement. Second, the technical aspects. And finally, the combination and collaboration of the two.

The dancing itself is extraordinary (choreographed byย Abi Mortimer and Carrie Whitaker). Whilst the synchronization had moments of sloppiness, the choreography was extraordinarily creative, sharp and inspired throughout. The play moved through a multitude of anthologies; different areas and timelines, where each individual and community suffers in a variety of ways from the unstable, burning world. A personal favourite of mine is a section on coastal overpopulation. Sometimes, movement pieces often feel like they delve too strongly into the abstract that their metaphorical reflection is lost, but here; with effective, concise dialogue alongside jagged, desperate movements, both chaotic and routine, the overwhelming claustrophobia of this highly likely scenario is viscerally striking. One dancer outlines, with increasingly hollow optimism, the possible designs of their new accommodation, whilst the fundamental lack of space threatens to break down the door to his delusion. The image is powerful and unavoidable, and their profound physical skill is evident throughout.

Furthermore, their use of props, primarily long, wooden poles, elevates the potential for complex, aggressive power dynamics and movement sequences throughout. In one significantly, empathetic section, one of the characters pleads in Spanish as heโ€™s attacked with poles by the other dancers who donโ€™t seem to understand him. Though only one individual initially singles him out, the desperate need to other spurred on by the dire circumstances themselves spurred on by climate change suddenly designates him an outcast warranting violence and targeting. The emotion here is immediate. Though certain sections feel too aesthetically beautiful to relate to any raw feeling or experience, this sequence – itโ€™s torture, itโ€™s desperation, itโ€™s humanity – triggers oneโ€™s innate compassion and sense of unfairness. Though such bullying has existed throughout human history, the potential for climate change to create circumstances which reverse social progress in a way we are already witnessing is very powerful here.

The technical aspects are, in short, perfect. The production is not afraid to make the sound loud (Dougie Evans), and itโ€™s all the better for it, each stab and strike and beat and pulse immersing one in the intensity of the scene. The music choices are effective; not cliche, but familiar, anxious techno beats which never maintain long enough to become comforting or predictable. The use of voiceover exerts, remixed into haunting EDM hooks, about the need for space, warmth, safety and the like, add a more relatable humanity to the symbolism of the often silent dancing choreography.

The amalgamation of these two elements is largely effective. In the aforementioned overcrowding sequence, a beam of light (Natalie Rowland), which casts a cascade of jerking, shuddering shadows, gradually shrinks and shrinks until it fits each dancer, single file, with not an inch to spare. The increasingly claustrophobic choreography in this scene, clawing at the edges, running into the shrinking, shifting light, adds to the breathless, desperate effect.

Overall, Fault Lines powerfully meets and accentuates the existential danger climate change poses. Though certain sections drag or fail to clearly illustrate their meaning, the composition as a whole is shattering in its visceral presentation of a not-unlikely reality.


FAULT LINES at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe – Assembly @ Dance Base

Reviewed on 22nd August 2024

by Horatio Holloway

Photography by Dougie Evans

 

 


FAULT LINES

FAULT LINES

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Allesley Silas

The Allesley Silas

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Belgrade Theatre

Allesley Silas

The Allesley Silas

Belgrade Theatre

Reviewed – 26th July 2022

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“Dowse does a fine job in keeping the audience engaged, finding a delightful lyricism in the words and being a natural storyteller”

 

Following a successful outdoor staging as part of the Coventry UK City Of Culture 2021 programme last year, โ€œThe Allesley Silasโ€ has been adapted for Belgradeโ€™s B2 performance space, where it plays this week. An adaptation of George Eliotโ€™s 1861 novel โ€œSilas Marnerโ€, the play tells the story of a linen weaver who is wrongly accused of theft and subsequently withdraws from society. His loneliness and isolation cause him to move to the quiet village of Raveloe, and become obsessed with money, with his collection of gold coins becoming the only thing in the world that matters to him. One night, his gold is stolen, and Silas is devastated. Soon after, an orphaned child with golden hair enters his life when he finds her wandering alone in the snow, and he believes God has returned his gold to him in another form. Through caring for the child (whom he names Eppie), Silas begins to feel the warmth of human contact once more, and tries to overcome the pain of his past. However, the secret of her true parentage may bring fresh heartache to the lives of others in Raveloe.

Adapted from Eliotโ€™s original novel into a two hour abridgement by Alan Pollock and directed by Olivia Marie, โ€œThe Allesley Silasโ€ tells Marnerโ€™s story faithfully, if not always particularly excitingly. To be fair, Eliotโ€™s tale is heavy on talking and light on action, and this production works within the parameters of the material and creates an enjoyable experience. The show takes a while to bed in and find its feet, with Act One feeling somewhat ploddy, although Act Two is much stronger. The plot is narrated on stage by Jill Dowse, which helps to tighten up the wordier stretches of the story, and Dowse does a fine job in keeping the audience engaged, finding a delightful lyricism in the words and being a natural storyteller. The production is underscored by folk-tinged incidental music (composed by Rebecca Applin) which maintains the setting and tone of the piece, and Abby Clarkeโ€™s set design is simple but effective, using a skeletal house structure as the focal point and framing the stage with wooden boxes which also cleverly double-up as floral borders to help show the passing of time and the seasons. The play is staged in the smaller B2 space, with its intimate nature suiting the piece really well and involving the audience in the story.

Adrian Decosta goes a great job as Silas, really taking the audience on the journey from wronged man to miser to nurturing father, and is particularly impressive near the showโ€™s end where he finally gets closure on his past. Alex Allison is also wonderful as Eppie, brilliantly puppeteering (and vocalising) two child versions of her character before playing her for real in the showโ€™s second act. She brings a real warmth to Eppie, and as a girl who is meant to shine like the sun, Allison is spot-on. Decosta and Allison create a bond throughout the showโ€™s second act that feels genuine and heartfelt, which is lovely to watch.

Telling a 160-year-old story in 2022 is always going to be a tricky task, deciding whether to either modernise the story for todayโ€™s world or keep it as a period piece. This production goes for the latter, and although it may lack thrills, it offers a gentle and faithful look into the past, and finds real heart on its journey. Simply told, with the cast showing real affection for the piece, โ€œThe Allesley Silasโ€ is a pleasantly nostalgic trip back to secondary school English class for audiences looking to dip back into a classic.

 

Reviewed by Rob Bartley

Photography by Dylan Parrin (from 2021 production)

 


The Allesley Silas

Belgrade Theatre until 30th July

 

All our July reviews so far – click on the link to read:

I Can’t Hear You | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Theatre503 | July 2022
The Hive | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Hoxton Hall | July 2022
Report to an Academy | โ˜… | Old Red Lion Theatre | July 2022
Barefoot in the Park | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | The Mill at Sonning | July 2022
Flat and Curves | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Toulouse Lautrec | July 2022
Hungry | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Soho Theatre | July 2022
Pennyroyal | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Finborough Theatre | July 2022
Shit-Faced Shakespeare: Romeo & Juliet | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Leicester Square Theatre | July 2022
Millennials | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | The Other Palace | July 2022
Fashion Freak Show | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Roundhouse | July 2022
Sobriety on the Rocks | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Bread and Roses Theatre | July 2022
Oh Mother | โ˜…โ˜…โ˜…โ˜… | Soho Theatre | July 2022

 

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