Tag Archives: Verity Quinn

THE BOUNDS

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Royal Court

THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court

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“The stakes in The Bounds are high, and there’s more than the outcome of a soccer game at risk”

The Bounds is an ambitious attempt to create a historical drama out of the origins of soccer. It’s a well chosen subject, given that the game has been a national obsession for centuries. And it’s no great stretch to imagine a form of the soccer that included a pitch that could stretch for miles, a match that could last days, and players willing to risk their lives for a chance to bring immortal glory to their team. Playwright Stewart Pringle also includes a sketched in backdrop of Tudor politics, both spiritual and secular, and a sprinkling of apocalyptic visions. That’s the gist of The Bounds, now on at the Royal Court’s Theatre Upstairs.

The Bounds begins well. We are introduced to Percy and Rowan, a couple of working class soccer players, who are determined that this will be the year that their village of Allendale finally triumphs over their arch rivals in Catton. The fact that they haven’t won in a long time does not deter their enthusiasm. Or the fact that they are on the outer peripheries of the game, miles from any action. As the good natured banter between Percy and his friend Rowan continues, we realize that these two are more like soccer fans in the stands, than players in the game. That’s Tudor soccer for you. When a third character, a classic outsider both in dress and address, enters, these two are naturally suspicious. And, this being Tudor times, accusations of witchcraft, popery and perversion start flying. When Samuel admits that he’s a college graduate (from Oxford, no less) he doesn’t help his case. Percy and Rowan, well educated in the signs of omens and portents, know that he is bad news, for all his educated ways. In this mismatched trio, all the rivalries of north versus south, working class versus middle class, and Protestantism versus Catholicism, come spilling out in a variety of ugly ways. What has all this to do with soccer? It’s a good question.

 

 

Unfortunately, the broad brush of Pringle’s own vision for his play is hampered by the fact that he has to work within the confines of a small space in the Theatre Upstairs, and with only four actors. These constraints wouldn’t have stopped the playwrights of the Tudor era, but we are in a less poetic age (in drama, at least). Where iambic pentameter could sketch a world in a few lines, we moderns tend to rely on the overuse of monosyllabic expletives. Pringle’s pared down dialogue and sketched in characters are entertaining, but with such serious subject matter as soccer and politics under discussion, the inventiveness in this piece starts to run out a while before the end of the play. Rather like the soccer game that the trio are observing.

The stakes in The Bounds are high, and there’s more than the outcome of a soccer game at risk. And that’s really where The Bounds ends up. It turns out that there are more important things than soccer games going on in Allendale. Pringle almost casually introduces us to the theme of boundaries being redrawn in The Bounds, but this is the masterstroke of Tudor strategy that echoes down the centuries, robbing local people of their spaces, and even their identities. It’s easy to see how the limitless game of soccer in Tudor times becomes the rule bound play of the modern game, confined within a single pitch of a predetermined size, and time constraints that don’t allow much flexibility. Pringle suggests that the unstructured nature of the ancient game had more freedom, despite the anarchy of play.

The actors, Soroosh Lavasani (Samuel), Ryan Nolan (Percy), Lauren Waine (Rowan) and Harry Weston (the Boy) bring an energetic presence to The Bounds. Ryan Nolan in particular, as a native Geordie, is completely at home both with the dialect and passion for the game. His versatility as a performer keeps the play focused, especially when it is in danger of drifting. Lauren Waine’s Rowan as the foil to Ryan Nolan’s Percy, is equally confident, and it is a delight to watch them play off against each other. If Soroosh Lavasani’s Samuel is less certain, it’s an accurate depiction of the place his character inhabits in Tudor society. A little education with a lot of religious indoctrination can be a dangerous thing, and Samuel proves that in spades. Harry Weston’s part may be small, but he carries the future in his lines, and his confident delivery as the Boy sounds the knell for the autonomy of folk like Percy. Jack McNamara’s direction keeps the action on the move, even within such a confined space.

Pringle’s drama is bold in its inception. If it doesn’t quite measure up to its opening promise, it may be that The Bounds needs a space, and a cast, as large as the Whitsuntide match between Allendale and Catton in the mid sixteenth century.


THE BOUNDS at the Royal Court

Reviewed on 17th Jun e2024

by Dominica Plummer

Photography by Von Fox Promotions

 

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

LIE LOW | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2024
BLUETS | β˜…β˜…β˜… | May 2024
GUNTER | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2024
COWBOIS | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2024
MATES IN CHELSEA | β˜…β˜…β˜… | November 2023
CUCKOO | β˜…β˜…Β½ | July 2023
BLACK SUPERHERO | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2023
FOR BLACK BOYS … | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | April 2022

THE BOUNDS

THE BOUNDS

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The Ballad of Maria Marten

The Ballad of Maria Marten

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Wilton’s Music Hall

The Ballad of Maria Marten

The Ballad of Maria Marten

Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed – 15th February 2022

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An undoubtedly compelling and timely story, told with a fine balance of edge and heartiness

 

β€œIt’s been a year since I died and still nobody’s found me.”

There’s a reason murders are generally told from the perspective of the murderer, obviously because the victim isn’t there to tell it. So Beth Flintoff’s The Ballad of Maria Marten is necessarily told from the grave. Based on a true story, Maria Marten herself guides us through the loves, heartbreaks and societal failings that led to her violent death.

I’m embarrassed to say I had never heard of Maria Marten, or the Red Barn murder as it’s otherwise known. Particularly so as that’s where my partner is from, and apparently that’s what the tiny village of Polstead is largely known for. That and cherries.

In fact, it’s been a popular story since the days of the trial in 1827, with songs written about it- one by Tom Waits- and multiple TV, film and radio adaptations. But under Hal Chambers’ direction, this production has taken a lot of risks in order to contemporise, the first and most overt being there are no men in the cast. Not only that, whilst Maria’s former lovers are played as bit-parts by the all-female cast, William Corder doesn’t even get a look-in, remaining an off-stage character throughout. This is especially interesting because, as with most tales of murder, adaptations and retellings have been largely focused on him over her.

Accents are all over the shop which does get to be quite distracting- there’s a little west country, a little generic northern, some south London, even a bit of Irish, often combined in a single sentence. But the performances themselves are generally strong. The cast at their most powerful as a chorus: As the title suggests, the story is punctuated with ballads, sung in tight six-part harmonies. These are some of the tenderest and most affecting moments, giving the sense that whilst women like Maria have been largely lost to history, there is in their place a kind of communal voice of mourning. This is amplified by synchronised intakes of breath that feel as though Maria’s plight belongs to a multitude.

I have a bit of a bee in my bonnet about adults playing children, and there’s a lot of it going round at the moment- The Book of Dust at the Bridge Theatre comes to mind, with a twelve-year old being played by a twenty-something. I do see the necessity in this case: they’re children for very little of the story, so it’d be a waste to double the cast. Regardless, it’s near impossible to do well and feels a bit embarrassing.

Verity Quinn’s costumes and set are kept fairly traditional: a dilapidated barn wall looms over the stage throughout and the cast all sport bonnets and aprons. The story’s contemporary slant generally sits comfortably against this conventional backdrop, but there is some anachronism that doesn’t feel quite right. One of the characters, for example, is an empowered woman who loves sex and whose children each have a different father. I understand the impetus to modernise in this way, but it feels particularly bizarre given that Maria suffers the harsh judgement of the village for having children out of wedlock herself.

The ending too feels uncomfortably positive, where a more truthfully bleak conclusion would have better served the point of the story. That being said, it’s hard to keep an audience hooked when they know from the get who was murdered and, half-way through by whom, which this production does. An undoubtedly compelling and timely story, told with a fine balance of edge and heartiness.

 

 

Reviewed by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Mike Kwasniak

 


The Ballad of Maria Marten

Wilton’s Music Hall until 19th February then UK Tour continues. SeeΒ www.mariamarten.com for details

 

Recently reviewed at this venue:
Roots | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021
The Child in the Snow | β˜…β˜…β˜… | December 2021

 

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