Tag Archives: Patrick Morris

ALBATROSS

★★★

Omnibus Theatre

ALBATROSS

Omnibus Theatre

★★★

“deftly captures the cracks radiating through a fractured relationship”

Martha Loader’s award winning writing returns with ‘Albatross’, a sharp look at intergenerational strain within the escalating climate crisis. Like the ice sheets Alice studies, the piece has some cracks despite solid foundations.

Glaciologist and single mum Alice makes a flying visit home after a grim discovery in the Antarctic, but her mum’s welcome isn’t exactly warm. Will Alice choose a career the world sorely needs, or find her wings clipped by family expectations?

The award winning Loader offers an incisive look at motherhood through two women shaped by starkly different choices. One sacrifices everything to nurture a family; the other sacrifices family to save millions. Loader smartly flips Coleridge’s ‘Rime’ on its head: this Antarctic traveller is undone not by nature but by humanity for defying the expectation she stay home to raise a family. We get a sense of the complex forces at play, delivered through deft interruptions and simmering subtext. A couple of moments would benefit from more build up, particularly in the final unravelling, but the piece remains compelling and thoughtfully crafted.

Patrick Morris effectively pulls the icy Antarctic into their home, with a clever mix of video and lighting. The pacing is well judged, as is the rise and fall of tension. A few scenes remain static, though, and don’t quite tap the emotional depth the story promises. The sex scene’s indistinct noises and lack of movement land oddly, and the buzzing, flickering albatross doesn’t fully connect. The sense of time isn’t always clear, which may be channelling disorientating polar nights but makes the late night work call feel a bit incongruous.

Composer Michaela Polakova conjures a vast, desolate soundscape, full of distant Antarctic winds and abstract tones so evocative I almost don’t realise one passage is a phone ringing.

Chris Dobrowolski’s set is stunning, the flotsam and jetsam of a house ruined by natural disaster left stranded on their own jagged icebergs. The quirky angles of the white goods convey everyday peril despite being entirely functional – a fitting metaphor for Eve’s casual disregard of the climate crisis. Bravo! Paul Bourne’s lighting design is subtle yet striking, catching both Alice’s icy coolness and Eve’s warmer glow with ease.

Caroline Rippen’s Alice feels tightly wound from the off, giving her ice cream themed breakdown real bite and believability. A little more light and shade in places would heighten her arc even further. Agnes Lillis’ Eve radiates an easy, sunlit warmth befitting the family matriarch, shot through with just enough narcissism and insecurity to keep her compellingly human. Morris’ Martin effectively captures the trapped bewilderment of an outsider dropped into a family drama, though further shifts in tone would add welcome depth.

‘Albatross’ deftly captures the cracks radiating through a fractured relationship. Backed by confident writing and striking design, it’s a piece with clear potential. It will be interesting to see where it flies next.



ALBATROSS

Omnibus Theatre

Reviewed on 28th May 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Ashley Day


 

 

 

 

ALBATROSS

ALBATROSS

ALBATROSS

Constellations
★★

Lilian Baylis Studio

Constellations

Constellations

Lilian Baylis Studio

Reviewed – 6th June 2019

★★

 

“some moments are hypnotically step-perfect but others feel confused”

 

Let’s be real: contemporary dance can be hard. Appreciation of it can rely on interpreting unspoken languages that baffle the uninitiated; those in the know can decode it, but for the rest of us it can feel terribly othering, as though on the outside of a cryptic in-joke.

I’d love to say that this piece by emerging contemporary dance superstars bucks this trend. And there are moments of comfort and sweetness; lights soften, a dog potters into the space and greets the audience. Costumes (Curtis Oland with masks by Damselfrau) are impactful, invoking gender-bending jesters. But for much of the night, this is contemporary dance at its most alienating.

The concepts are beguiling, although the artspeak in the programme does nothing to draw us in (e.g. curator Stefan Jovanović states ‘…current research looks at the translation of systemic family constellations and somatic experiencing into dance and architecture’). Part masque, part artwork, part ritual and part village fête (we’re encouraged to attend the ‘Fool’s Market’ (set design Jack Hardy) during the interval to peruse artisanal pieces used in the performance), we’re told that ‘we’re living in a time of need of new rituals for coming together, to affect (sic?) change, to heal’ and ‘it is about sacred spaces and sacred times, the rekindling of community’. Hard to argue with that. But given its lofty intentions, I wonder who this performance is for. Perhaps many members of the very white, often more mature audience are experienced enough consumers of dance to take the more challenging set pieces in their stride (two dancers roaming the stage barking like dogs for minutes on end, anyone?), but for those less immersed these scenes can feel impossibly long and downright baffling.

This is a shame, as there are powerful moments and no shortage of impressive physicality on display. It’s hard not to feel as though the night revolves around Pau Aran Gimeno, whose movement is easily the most entrancing and whose narratives are some of the more accessible. A scene of shamanic ritual, set to a pulsing drumbeat (composer Domenico Angarano), is one of the most compelling, and the swirling metal orb suspended over the stage (created by one of the craftspeople on display) is an effective staging moment. Dancers writhe around more metal structures throughout, and these too promise mesmeric flashes – until occasionally a performer thunks awkwardly against one and the spell is broken. This reflects another issue with the night; some moments are hypnotically step-perfect but others feel confused.

There are also interactions with audience members: more awkwardness. Many of these offer up moments of tenderness; to its credit, this is not a production intended to embarrass its attendees. But the informality of these interactions is also distracting; one game volunteer squeaked ‘what am I supposed to DO??!’ as she teetered on a metal wheel. Indeed.

Dance – nay, any piece of art – doesn’t need to be literal, of course it doesn’t, and in a piece dedicated to carving out ‘a space that is both familiar and strange’ it’s right and to be expected that discomfiture will feature. It just feels as though Constellations, with its promise of humour and warmth, takes fragmentation just a step too far.

 

Reviewed by Abi Davies

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

 


Constellations

Lilian Baylis Studio until 6th June

 

Last ten Sadler’s Wells shows reviewed:
Medusa | ★★★½ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | October 2018
The Emperor and the Concubine | ★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | October 2018
Dystopian Dream | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | November 2018
Layla and Majnun | ★★★½ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | November 2018
Tom | ★★★★ | Lilian Baylis Studio | November 2018
Swan Lake | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | December 2018
Bon Voyage, Bob | ★★½ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | February 2019
The Thread | ★★½ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | March 2019
Mitten Wir Im Leben Sind/Bach6Cellosuiten | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | April 2019
Rite Of Spring | ★★★★★ | Sadler’s Wells Theatre | May 2019

 

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