“cleverly creeps under our skin as a piece of theatre and leaves us with a lot to contemplate”
A woman breaks into her parents’ home to steal money for drugs; a prisoner sees every object as a possible way of killing herself; a sex worker waits in the cold for an extra ten pounds…
For forty years, Clean Break has been changing the future of women during and after their time in prison by both providing an outlet to challenge their misrepresentation in popular entertainment and as a formative process for learning, expression and evolution. Alice Birch’s commission to celebrate this gives carte blanche from a selection of 100 scenes – any number, any order – which address the manifold causes, processes and effects of being caught up in the criminal justice system. By the very nature of the crimes women commit, locking them away is less a safety measure for the rest of society than distancing them from their own threats with devastating repercussions for them, those they depend on and who depend on them. Director, Maria Aberg, has carefully chosen and arranged her selection to touch on lives blighted by a structure which does not confront these complex pastoral issues.
With a brilliant choice of cast, the scope for illustrating the breadth of age, race and class of these women works well visually as well as within the script. Rosie Elnile’s versatile set of raised, individual box rooms around a central space forms different levels of impact for the audience, from the feeling of observed, intimate conversations of abusive relationships and foster care to being drawn into the group spirit of prison life. Some scenes work better than others, however, which produces a somewhat uneven flow. After fragments of emotional experiences at home and in prison, of mothers, daughters, prisoners and staff, the action’s centrepiece (and scene number 100) is a dinner party of old friends. Here Birch brings together all the elements of the good-doing, professional society, patting each other on the back and having another glass of wine. The overlapping conversation between the guests is superb, hypocrisy slowly smouldering as their personalities unfold (the detective, the documentary maker, the therapist, the charity volunteers…) until the one outsider, played by Shona Babayemi, in a passionate outburst, can stand the insincerity no longer.
There are strong performances all round, though our natural expectations for an imposed narrative makes it difficult to completely engage with the characters. Thusitha Jayasundera shows us the painful impotence of a mother who is told her daughter has committed suicide in prison and we feel the confused heartbreak of Joanna Horton as the mother who sees no option for her children but to kill them. In a truly sobering moment, Lucy Edkins and Kate O’Flynn’s quietly powerful final scene as mother and daughter sums up the tragic personal loss of the ignored. Despite the dark and distressing subject, the writing, acting and direction balances sadness with humour. ‘Blank’ cleverly creeps under our skin as a piece of theatre and leaves us with a lot to contemplate.
“The piece is brimming with an electric energy that is infectious, vital and unapologetic”
Across the stage: a drum kit, a bath, a chandelier that almost grazes the floor, two chairs, a pie, a chaise longue, a piano. The lights go down. The lights go up. The white, bespectacled bust of Chekhov stares back at us to the sound of applause. The lights go down again. So begins RashDash’s reimagining of ‘Three Sisters’ and it is no conventional reimagining. The piece was created, it is implied, after a reviewer recommended that in order for the group to be taken seriously, they ought to engage with ‘the classics’. Certainly this engages with said classics, not to obliterate them completely but to ask how they can be made applicable to the modern day woman, and even how might Chekhov have written his three sisters in a present day setting.
This is a night of disruption – disruption to theatrical form in that the piece weaves from play to concert to dance show to clowning and round again, and disruption to the literary canon as the trio questions how we can engage in the famed classics where we are barely featured. Interspersed with chants of “men make speeches, men make speeches”, it quickly becomes apparent that even when women take the title roles, it doesn’t mean they are given anything of substance to say or do. The question “What does it mean when a group of women talk to each other?” is met with a lengthy silence.
The piece is brimming with an electric energy that is infectious, vital and unapologetic. It is laced with moments of wonderful visual comedy: Spice Girls costumes (including a sequined Union Jack dress), Chekhov’s bust as baby and lover (not simultaneously), and Olga stood on two stacks of books balanced on Masha’s horizontal body: a visual depiction of the weight of the canon. The cast change over and over from ballgowns to bear suits, cheerleading outfits and a sparkling knight’s headdress, stripping semi-naked time and again in the process of helping each other into the next outfit.
Perhaps most striking about the production is the incredible talent of those onstage. Our trio, made up of Abbie Greenland, Helen Goalen and Becky Wilkie, can act, sing, dance, play musical instruments, make us laugh, make us want to dance, make us think – it’s a masterclass to behold. They are supported by two fantastic musicians, Choe Rianna on the drums and Yoon-Ji Kim jumping between violin and synth. Rosie Elnile’s set design is flawlessly haphazard, full of hidden gems and boasting a back wall of zine-like collage, all effectively lit by lighting designer Ziggy Jacobs. There isn’t a weak link in the production.
There are moments during several of the songs where the words get lost under the music, a particular shame in the number commenting on the critical reception of Chekhov-inspired productions. In moments, the absurdity of the play dominates to such an extent that the narrative is lost and confusion temporarily reigns, and for those unfamiliar with the play it could take a while to settle into the references of the piece. But then this isn’t a piece about settling or linearity.
A rousing call to create work that truly represents and embodies us, and to respond creatively to work and sectors of the world that don’t, RashDash’s production is fiercely vibrant. At points parodic, and always playful, the show is filled with wit, joy and plenty of stripping. This is Chekhov as you have never seen him before, and surely now hope to see him again.
