“sometimes its cleverness is confusing, and occasionally the dialogue does become repetitive”
At the height of the refugee crisis, in 2015, over seven hundred people drowned in one morning crossing the Mediterranean on the hazardous boat trip from Libya to the Italian island of Lampedusa. They were just a part of the mass Syrian exodus trying to reach Europe, handing over control of their lives to fate, knowing that there was only a slim chance of ever getting it back. For those lucky enough to reach dry land, the next step on their journey was hopping on the overnight train to Paris; a direct route between the countries, which has become known as the “train of second chances”.
This night train is the setting for “The Sleeper”, written and directed by Henry C. Krempels, currently running at The Space following its debut in Edinburgh last year. Drawn from his experiences of riding that train himself as research for a commissioned magazine article, this slick and powerful theatre piece revolves around Karina, a white, British traveller; Amena – a Syrian refugee without papers or passport, or money; and the officious guard on board the train.
And ‘revolve’ is what the drama does. The story frequently finds itself back at the beginning, allowing us to observe the events from differing viewpoints – our own shifting perceptions being cleverly swayed each time the characters subtly reshape the narrative.
Karina (Michelle Fahrenheim) reports a refugee (Sarah Agha) hiding in her bunk on the overnight train in Europe. Fahrenheim brilliantly captures that very English mix of obsequiousness and hauteur. Is she really trying to help or is she just a professional complainer looking for a quick upgrade to first class? Joshua Jacob, as the French guard, is the voice of authority. Unbending in his commitment to ‘following procedure’ he chillingly reminds us of the historical dangers of taking this edict to the extreme. But the shining light is Agha’s strong portrayal of the refugee. Initially mute, she eventually seizes the narrative for herself. Even at one point totally smashing down the fourth wall and stopping the action, stepping out of character, and questioning the other two ‘white’ actors’ right to be involved in the telling of what is, after all, her story. “A play is not going to solve the refugee crisis!” she pointedly laments.
This self-awareness in the writing keeps the piece entertaining and avoids the pitfalls of diatribe, but sometimes its cleverness is confusing, and occasionally the dialogue does become repetitive. But, despite an overly drawn-out conclusion, this is an important piece of theatre: thought-provoking and illuminating. The cyclical structure reminds us that there is always more than one way of looking at things. Krempels challenges our preconceptions about the crisis and allows us to absorb the fact that there is “no single solution”. Again – like the play itself – that can be interpreted in more than one way.
“a super display of wordless and subtle physical comedy from Jessica White”
The One Festival is The Space’s ambitious showcase of new monologues. It consists of four programmes, each being shown five times, over the course of three weeks, and this is its final year. Programme A launched the season with five pieces shown over two hours. It opened with Treasure, written and directed by Laura Kaye Thomson and performed by Jennifer Greenwood, and was followed by Meeting Roman Polanski, written by Janice Hallett, directed by Adam Hemming and performed by Jessica White. Treasure is an extended rumination on grief, with Jennifer Greenwood taking on the role of a recently-bereaved daughter, coming to terms with her loss by revisiting objects and music from her past. Despite frequent direct communication with the audience, Greenwood’s character felt strangely distant from us, and the final release from the defensive nature of her grief came too late in the piece for this reviewer to share her catharsis. Her poignant moments with the keyboard gave occasional glimpses into her more truthful self, and it was then that the piece really came alive. Treasure felt like a brave first attempt at the exploration of extremely complicated emotional subject matter, and it would be interesting to see Laura Kaye Thomson delve deeper.
Meeting Roman Polanski began with a super display of wordless and subtle physical comedy from Jessica White, which pointed to a harmonious and understated director/performer partnership. Credit here to Adam Hemming for his subtle directional guidance throughout. There was some terrific writing here, and Janice Hallett provoked numerous uproarious laughs whilst simultaneously expertly building tension. The ever-present ‘elephant in the room’ nature of Polanski’s notoriety grew more and more troublesome, until the pressure finally broke, and Jessica White’s superb controlled explosion took the audience where we needed to go. It was a timely and thought-provoking piece; well-programmed to provide good food for chatter in the interval.
Post-interval, Mitch Day gave us an insight into the mind of a celebrity stalker. Inside Alan was frequently very funny indeed, but also had moments of almost unbearable sadness. Although occasionally a little overblown, Mitch Day navigated these tonal changes with total conviction. His performance filled the space brilliantly, and he carried the audience with him throughout, right until the very last tender moment. There was a polish to this piece which may well have stemmed from writer and performer being one and the same, but mention must also be made to director Anthony Houghton, who created a clear visual arc for the story.
Guleraana Mir’s A Sweet Life came next: a brisk piece of Black Mirror-esque whimsy, with a lovely theatrical punchline. It opened with an arresting visual image (nice work by director Ming Yu Lin) and Alice Langrish gave an engaging performance which provided a welcome freshness and comic zing to the evening’s proceedings.
The concluding piece, Mike Carter’s A Mighty Oak Conquerer, again started with a terrific mise en scene. It’s a testament to Tom Michael Blyth’s ability that he transformed a couple of black blocks and a wooden post so utterly convincingly into an enormously tall oak! He gave a terrific performance, somewhat in the Leonard Rossiter vein, as Brian, ‘a grown man who lives in St. Albans’, and allowed us to have a lot of fun with some excellent comic writing from Mike Carter. The shift from Brian’s early triumph at his achievement to the precarious nature of his predicament was expertly written and performed, with laugh-aloud aperçus throughout. The play ended on a big laugh, which swept us out into the night on a tide of good humour.
Congratulations must go to The Space for continually providing a launch pad for new talent. If you take an interest in theatre, this type of evening is always worth the price of admission, and who knows, you just might be there at the very beginning of a stellar professional journey.
