“this riveting work shines some light into the darkness”
First presented in a dilapidated Dublin building two years ago as part of the centenary marking the Easter Rising, “These Rooms” is an intense, immersive blend of theatre, dance and installation. Drawing on eye witness accounts it recalls the events of Dublin’s North King Street Massacre in April 1916 – when fifteen civilian men were killed in house-to-house raids by British soldiers. In this utterly compelling, haunting and thought-provoking depiction we are forced to consider both stories: those of the civilians who were victims of and witnesses to the North King Street Massacre, and those of the men of the South Staffordshire Regiment who committed this act.
Created by the Irish performance companies, ANU and CoisCéim Dance Theatre, there is not an ounce of exposition or preaching here. Instead we are taken on a journey into the victim’s homes, not as flies on the wall but as one of them. Yet directors David Bolger and Louise Lowe are attuned enough to the absurdity and cruel contradictions of conflict that we also feel, at times, that we are the perpetrators too. We are delivered some brutal truths of history. Robbie O’Connor, in a spellbinding performance, asks us to define the phrase “take no prisoners”. But it is genuine fear, not aggression, that reflects in his eyes as he does so. As a regimental soldier he has no idea what he is doing in Dublin. And neither do we, but this riveting work shines some light into the darkness and, more importantly, brings the victims’ overlooked story, and its far-reaching aftermath, to the fore.
From the off it is impossible to remain impassive. The choreography, with its mixture of violence and virtuosity, beauty and barbarism, bypasses narration and takes a more expressive path straight to the core of each character’s emotions. The attention to detail is shared by designer Owen Boss who has transformed the basement of Shoreditch Town Hall into ‘these rooms’ of the title: the smashed walls, barricades of broken chairs, abandoned breakfast tables, the corner pub at closing time. Within these walls the characters search for meaning, taking us with them – sharing a drink with them, sharing secrets, sharing bread and marmalade and grief. We are shown fragments, but these minor details are what paint the bigger picture. Úna Kavanagh’s devastated response to the question of the colour of her husband’s socks, for instance, uncovers the trauma of identifying victims. People who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time.
At the heart, though, are the powerful and evocative performances. The finely nuanced emotions, whether expressed through movement or dialogue, reveal more of the history than the scant documentary evidence can. Especially as the subsequent investigations into the massacre were fudged – with the incredulous argument that the ‘fog of war’ made it impossible to figure out what really happened. A hundred years on these actors bring the horror of these events alive in a compellingly stirring and important piece of theatre. Intimate yet panoramic, this show is totally unmissable.
As we are lead, after a breath-taking ninety minutes, back up into the courtyard there is total silence. The broken women, frozen in their shared grief, merely follow us with their gaze. No applause, though we know that once we have grappled with, and untangled the emotions that writhe within us, the ovation in our heads is thunderous.
Suicide Notes … The Spoken Word of Christopher Brett Bailey
Shoreditch Town Hall
Reviewed – 4th May 2018
★★★½
“There is definitely a wonderful show that will come from these previews”
Christopher Brett Bailey’s This is How We Die took the fringe by storm when it emerged. The seemingly simple form, seeing Bailey sat by a desk with a microphone and the script swerved through dark and surreal storytelling and erupted into a climactic wall of music and light. These series of previews of his new material at Shoreditch Town Hall, comprised of different every night showings of brand new short stories, see him return to this set up with fascinating results.
Once again, we find Bailey familiarly sat behind his desk with a stack of papers around him, each waiting to be delicately picked up and shown to their audience. Compared to his previous work, this show and tell was much more relaxed and warm in nature, with audience asides and often breaks of laughter during particularly difficult extracts. On the night we were taken from an enticing and detailed encounter with Adam, the first man and the world, and quickly breezed through to a gloriously apocalyptic goodbye from humans entirely.
Bailey has a natural voice for his writing, engaging and warm yet able to twist and shift at a moment’s notice. He performs tremendous feats of diction and lyrical dexterity, and his writing creates vivid, very changing imagery for us to envisage. He creates hilarious moments from the world he creates, and a set up for a previous girlfriend referring to her downstairs as her ‘axe wound’ created a meeting that it was difficult to stop giggling at for all its sheer weirdness. For a work in progress understandably however there were moments at which punchlines of some stories fell slightly flat and at times lacked some of the razor-sharp appeal that has come to define him.
There is definitely a wonderful show that will come from these previews, and the potential there was obvious to see. At this point it is difficult to review this show due to the open nature of its performance, and acknowledgement that it will develop on from here. It is not quite the final product that it is crying out to become, as it fails to fully feel like a single show, more like a mixed confetti bag of bits. But Bailey’s superb writing ability fires on, and as the lights fall down we are left to consider how we look at suicide, and his gift for finding the beauty and humour in death is something that sticks in the mind and into the night.
Reviewed by Callum McCartney
Photography by Jemima Yong
Suicide Notes … The Spoken Word of Christopher Brett Bailey