Tag Archives: Timothy Kelly

Tinted

Tinted

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VAULT Festival 2020

Tinted

Tinted

Studio – The Vaults

Reviewed – 13th February

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“has the right foundations, but could do with fleshing things out further”

 

Scripped Up theatre company are making their voice known at the VAULT Festival this year, championing the work of D/deaf, disabled, and neurodivergent artists. Tinted, their debut one-woman performance, written by disabled playwright Amy Bethan Evans, cracks open the lid of life with an impairment with honesty and humour.

Laura’s still living at home with her parents. They still drive her places and wipe her face. Laura’s friends aren’t doing that. They’re living their best twenty-something lives, flat sharing and having sex whenever they want. Laura wants those sorts of things. But so far her disability has made things tricky. So has her last relationship which took an unexpected turn. With flashbacks to childhood and her teens, Laura builds up a picture of events that make her the person she is today, as well questioning the current climate of #MeToo, and where her voice as a disabled person lies within it.

As thought provoking and arresting as Tinted is, the final execution of the piece doesn’t quite live up to what I think it wants to achieve. Even though you get an appreciation of what it’s like living without full ability, and seeing how sexual discrimination can affect absolutely anyone, the story gets a bit stuck in the mud, until the apex of the monologue is reached towards the end. The characters development and revelation could be stronger and more precise. The jumping in time works effectively, however, the jumping in subject matter can be jarring and confusing. Amy Bethan Evans strength is in creating a world of nostalgia. The cultural references of the late Nineties/early Noughties gets huge chuckles of remembrance from the audience.

Charlotte Eyres as Laura is β€œcool. And cute”. To quote what Laura’s friends think of her. There’s an endearing quality that makes her likeable to watch, with an effortless funny bone. The emotional climax she hits spot on, with an honest believability. Eyres comes across rather natural throughout, it feels like a verbatim piece at times. One small criticism is Eyre’s habit of constantly tucking her hair behind her ear, a nervous tick, or a character choice, it’s uncertain. Not to sound nit-picky, but it happens so often it becomes distracting.

This long-form monologue requires no set other than a chair. The power and vividness is in the words, in the story. More interesting choices could have been made with the one and only prop, or it may have been better to have just left it static, as some occasions the chair would be moved for no apparent reason, becoming off putting.

All in all, Tinted has the right foundations, but could do with fleshing things out further. You get fleeting snap shots into Laura’s life, but it doesn’t always go deep enough under the surface. The performance can come across feeling like a high school drama piece but it’s hard to distinguish if this is more of an issue with the writing or with Eyre’s depiction. Regardless, it’s still an absorbing story. It hits the right balance of being funny and moving. It’s highly refreshing to hear the voice of someone less abled and we need more stories like this in the world of theatre. Scripped Up, absolutely need to keep throwing work out there, kicking up a fuss and demanding those with a disability deserve a place at the (theatre) table.

 

Reviewed by Phoebe Cole

Photography by Georgia Harris

 

VAULT Festival 2020

 

 

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Jade City

Jade City

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The Bunker

Jade City

Jade City

The Bunker

Reviewed – 5th September

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“praise should be given for facing stories of masculine brutality head-on”

 

Two men circle each other in a boxing ring; they spar, they wrestle, they laugh and, in a sense at least, they fight. The ropes that encircle the ring also encircle their lives, and by the end of performance, it’s clear that those ropes can’t contain them both.

Jade City, cleverly-named for both the local takeaway (with its Β£3.20 special) and a reference to the proximity of the Emerald Isle, is a two-man show from playwright Alice Malseed. Malseed hails from Belfast, where the play is set, and the whole production resonates with a sense of place. It opens with Monty (Barry Calvert) and Sas (Brendan Quinn) rattling off memories of their hometown. The Goliath crane, the Cregagh, Ormeau Road; cultural and local references which would be bound to strike powerful chords with those who know the city (and, as a nice touch, the Bunker is selling Tayto crisps). This densely-worded production is captioned throughout and in these quickfire exchanges it is invaluable (although at times distractingly serves to highlight deviations from the text, with whole lines missed, that can’t all be deliberate).

As we follow visits to the local, to Monty’s β€˜stinking flat’, to the new bar in town, it’s clear that our two characters are knitted into their landscape, but passing references to their past indicate a troubling story. This unfolds, graphically and somewhat predictably, throughout the production. Some of the narrative is delivered via escapist role-plays, as Monty and Sas act out remembered or imagined situations. This is a helpful device, but it feels a bit hard to square the idea of lads who joke about times they’ve lobbed rocks at police and started fights also readily immersing themselves in shared childlike fantasies (β€˜We’re bin men!’). Given the narrative dwells on the toxicity and dishonesty of masculine posturing, this particular leap feels like a real ask of the audience, although passionate and likeable performances from Calvert and Quinn help.

The Bunker is a simple space in which to represent Belfast’s streets, pubs and clubs but clever lighting (Timothy Kelly) works hard, with strips around the boxing ring starkly setting up the stage and a sickly orange hue invoking the tacky-floored pub. Sound design from Michael Mormecha is also effective.

So many great components, then, but director Katherine Nesbitt isn’t quite able to unite them into a totally winning whole. One challenge is certainly the lyrical but heavy script, which feels like it’d be better served by being read on the page than seen performed. Another is the pacing; billed as a one-hour show, my performance ran 15 minutes over this and this extra time cost us tautness.

Rarely has a production had such a connection to a place; Belfast runs through Jade City like a stick of rock. In this regard, the play excels, and praise should be given for facing stories of masculine brutality head-on.

 

Reviewed by Abi Davies

Photography by Ali Wright

 


Jade City

The Bunker until 21st September

 

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:
Sam, The Good Person | β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Welcome To The UK | β˜…β˜… | January 2019
Boots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | February 2019
Box Clever | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Killymuck | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
My White Best Friend | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2019
Funeral Flowers | β˜…β˜…β˜…Β½ | April 2019
Fuck You Pay Me | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2019
The Flies | β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2019
Have I Told You I’m Writing a Play About my Vagina? | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2019

 

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