Tag Archives: Wiebke Green

Union

Union

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Arcola Theatre

UNION at the Arcola Theatre

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Union

“amongst the yelling and huffing, there are a lot of poignant and heartfelt moments in Union”

 

Given the state liberal politics is currently in, it’s understandable there would be a sense of panicked urgency in trying to get an important message across; the time for nuance is over, the time for yelling is now. But didactic theatre, which this ends up being, isn’t super fun for a few reasons: Firstly, no-one likes being yelled at for 90 minutes. Sure, art isn’t always pleasant, but it is supposed to be affective, and after a while this starts to feel less like theatre and more like a public service announcement.

Secondly, if you’ve got a leftist agenda, sermonising to an off-west end theatre audience is likely preaching to the choir. I can’t imagine many passionate capitalists are signing up to see a play about a big-time property developer having a moral crisis. That being said, amongst the yelling and huffing, there are a lot of poignant and heartfelt moments in Union.

Saskia is at the peak of her career. She’s about to sign her biggest development deal which will potentially lead to partnership. But in a moment of insanity- or clarity- she flees the meeting before signing, changes into her very expensive Lycra gear and decides to run the many miles home through London, meeting a plethora of colourful characters along the way, each with a little lesson to impart.

Writer Max Wilkinson’s 2021 play Rainer feels very much like the seed for Union: One main character flies through London, clearly having a breakdown and meeting all sorts on her journey. But where Rainer was focused on a singular experience of personal trauma, Union uses Saskia’s meltdown to convey a much bigger issue: the capitalist sterilisation of big cities. This feels like a more interesting use of the trope, and the script itself feels more sophisticated.

Director Wiebke Green’s recent credits include Philip Ridley’s Poltergeist, The Beast Will Rise, and Tarantula. There’s a definite link between Union and old hand Ridley’s works, but it’s hard to know how much comes from the writing and how much the production. Union has the same non-stop intensity, the same amped up spiralling and the same inevitable ‘big reveal’ when the audience learns a crucial piece of information that explains the aforementioned spiralling, all of which have become Ridley’s trademarks. It’s affecting, sure, but it’s also a bit formulaic now. And just as I found it hard to focus during Ridley’s 85-minute rant Poltergeist last year, I find Union too consistently high-strung to remain interested.

Maintaining this level of high-energy performance, though, is undoubtedly impressive. Dominique Tipper as Saskia never lets up, pounding the stage and virtually spitting out her dialogue throughout. She’s convincing as both the cutthroat corporatist and the wavering moralist. When she leaps back into her teenage past she avoids that often cloying, babyish performance so many people give, and instead presents young Saskia as fully formed if still malleable and vulnerable to sinister forces.

As it happens, set and costume designer Kit Hinchcliffe also worked on Ridley’s Poltergeist, but where there was only one character to dress, and no costume changes, in this production she’s had a little more opportunity to stretch herself. All costume changes happen in full view, with the help of two very full clothing racks. This keeps all the energy on stage, rather than any hurried exits and entries. And given you couldn’t very well design the whole of Regent’s Canal, Hinchcliffe has opted for a near empty stage, and the visible unworn costumes give a little colour to the production.

While this might easily have been a one-person play, with Tipper merely jumping between characters, we have the added pleasure of Sorcha Kennedy and Andre Bullock playing all the bit parts as well as giving live sound effects such as panicked heavy breathing and crying babies. For the most part, this works really well, giving an extra dimension to an otherwise singular voice, and also creating the impression that Saskia is being watched- not just by an audience of 100, but by judging parties in her own world.

Both Kennedy and Bullock are excellent chameleons, using quick costume changes to transform into any number of people. The only time it doesn’t quite fit is with Saskia’s husband Leon. Where every other character is enjoyably cartoonish in comparison to the multi-faceted Saskia, Leon should really be slightly more detailed in order for their complicated alliance to make sense, and this just isn’t possible when Kennedy is switching characters in 30 seconds with the mere addition of a hat and glasses.

The aggressive development of London, or as one character says, the turning of the world in to β€œone big f*cking Pret” is a real and scary issue. Wilkinson has, in a lot of ways, hit the nail on the head. It’s just that he’s hit it a little too hard.

 


UNION at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 25th July 2023

by Miriam Sallon

 

Photography by Lidia Crisafulli

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Duck | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2023
Possession | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | June 2023
Under The Black Rock | β˜…β˜…β˜… | March 2023
The Mistake | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | January 2023
The Poltergeist | β˜…β˜…Β½ | October 2022
The Apology | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2022
L’Incoronazione Di Poppea | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2022
Rainer | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021

Union

Union

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Poltergeist

The Poltergeist

β˜…β˜…Β½

Arcola Theatre

THE POLTERGEIST at the Arcola Theatre

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Poltergeist

“It feels like it came from a young, angsty mind who hasn’t seen or read enough yet but who has a lot of exciting potential”

 

There are certain trademarks of a Philip Ridley story present, in some formation or other, in pretty much everything he writes: deep unexplained trauma, repression, mania, dark humour and unusual family dynamics. Normally these markers serve as a jumping-off point for nuanced and unexpected ideas- his seminal 1991 play, The Pitchfork Disney, for example, or Tender Napalm, staged only last year at the Kings Head Theatre. But in the case of The Poltergeist, they serve as the entire idea, with no nuance or unexpectedness in sight.

In fact, after the first minute of the script I know exactly what I’m in for: Artist, Sasha (Joseph Potter) tensely prepares to visit his brother for his niece’s birthday party which he desperately doesn’t want to attend, even with his calming, lovely partner Chet in tow. He’s already seething over his favourite face mask being empty, nastily predicting his boyfriend’s behaviours by counting down 3-2-1 before Chet will inevitably knock on the bathroom door to check he’s ok (what a monster). He’s cynical and mean in a way that leaves no room for sympathy, and which makes any β€˜jokes’ completely not funny; unfortunate, given we’ve got to spend the next 85 minutes with him as a spitting, crazed wreck.

Don’t get me wrong, whilst we’ve seen the repressed trauma story a million times, I still think it’s relevant and meaty enough for us to see it some more. But 85 minutes of being glared and yelled at will not cut it.

Potter, being the only performer, is required to play multiple roles at this children’s party. He works exceedingly hard throughout, not only cranking up his already raging character from 10 to 11, but also switching in a group conversation between five or six characters. But with the combination of too many voices speaking in close proximity, and the characters being only vague, stereotyped outlines, it becomes exhausting and insipid to watch. And the big reveal of why Sasha is angry at his brother comes so late and is already so completely predictable that the relief it’s supposed to bring hardly touches the sides. If Potter hadn’t been directed to spit every word with intense hate from the very beginning, it’s possible the effect would have been different, but likely nominally so.

A set and costume consultant is listed in the programme, but there’s no staging, and Potter wears a single outfit throughout- a shiny shirt tucked into light blue jeans- which I hate. It takes until Sasha and Chet are in the car on a mobile phone for me to realise this is set in the present day, because he’s dressed like an early β€˜80s George Michael.

If this were a young writer’s first foray, I would likely feel quite different. It feels like it came from a young, angsty mind who hasn’t seen or read enough yet but who has a lot of exciting potential. But it’s from a giant! Philip Ridley, for goodness’ sake! And in the context of his wildly impressive oeuvre, this is beyond disappointing.

 

Reviewed on 17th October 2022

by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Matt Martin

 

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Game Of Love And Chance | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2021
The Narcissist | β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2021
Rainer | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | October 2021
L’Incoronazione Di Poppea | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | July 2022
The Apology | β˜…β˜…β˜…β˜… | September 2022

 

 

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