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| Doctor, Governor, Journalist, Spiritual Helper |
The Lyric in Hammersmith is famous for its creative and
original productions of both old and new works. The recent buzz surrounding its
new Secret Theatre series had not escaped me, but it was only when Show 3 begun
that my usual theatre-date friend and I actually made an effort to book
tickets. I apologise in advance if this review is a little rambling or discombobulated, it was that kind of night.
"Wear comfy shoes" we were told before. What? I
was nervous. Although I love experimental theatre, anything that hints of
audience participation tends to freak me a little, especially when there is no
real description as to what the play is about.
I tried to find some reviews, but they were all rightly
vague. I managed to establish that the Lyric had building works going on and
you had to walk up numerous steps to where the play was being performed. Aaah I
see. Health and safety and all.
When we arrived at the Lyric to collect the tickets, well in
time for some pre-performance wine, we were told... "Meet in the foyer...
730... Don't be late, don't be late... We’ll leave without you."
Alright calm down... We sat right next to the foyer in the
bar slurping wine and furtively checking our phones and glancing over to the
approved meeting area "don't be late, don't be late."
Jittery already, our Sauvignon Blanc was interrupted by a
theatre official (Captain of Health and Safety or some such) making an announcement
in the bar.
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| The Governor and Warden |
"You have to climb some stairs to get to the
performance area, so if you feel you can't manage this, let us know, we will
take you a different route... don't be late."
Cue thoughts of the future when we couldn't manage stairs.
Perish the thought. Eventually we were ready to go and indeed we climbed up a
fair few stairs before we reached the performance area. Oh ok we managed the
stairs, we weren't late and we were numbed a little by our drinks. Now we could
relax as we shuffled on benches - front row - cue more nerves from me.
The premise of the play as I saw it is capital punishment,
authority, good and evil and a little bit of cause and effect. You are aware of
the capital punishment issue from the beginning. It is clearly spelled out to
you by the Governor of the Prison, attendants, journalist and others who are
all there to watch an execution. It is clearly spelled out to you by the set
which shows a lonely bed with a raised head and clearly not a friendly bed.
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| The Doctor |
The first half is mostly amusing. As the Prison Governor is
debuting her new form of the death penalty, an experiment which may be taken
country-wide; the victim/criminal, Richard Sanger (Leo Bill) is an abductor, a
rapist, a horrible man by all accounts. The rapport between the prison
attendants is comical and the character of the watching journalist - though
slightly obvious - is recognisable and easily disapproved of by any liberal
theatregoer. The man who is meant to die, does not, cue more humour and a
wonderful portrayal of a student doctor confused by his loyalty to his
profession, morals and his career. Titter, titter.
21st Century wall still up we can take this, the audience I
mean, we can take this, they're killing a man or trying to, so what... Yes, yes
there's the politics and power scuffles and morality queries by all the players
and yet still as the audience we are thinking aaahhh lovely yes, this is going
to teach us about how capital punishment is not the answer. This is going to
give us food for thought and great dinner party discussion. Great. We are all waiting for the moral to be told
to us and then we can forget about it and go home to our warm beds. And then
something happens...
The rapist, though he has not died, has seemingly forgotten
everything and therefore may be classed as mentally unstable and cannot be killed- laws as
they are. It changes the judgement ruled. With a time limit on the success of
the experiment, as the governor is set to report into the Home Secretary the
next morning, she and the wardens and the doctor desperately try to force the
man to remember what he has done so they can try to kill him again. By this
point we are feeling uncomfortable, but there is still humour. They try
everything they can, sinking to the depths of bringing in the identical twin
sister of the murdered girl (Katherine Pearce) who has been sat in the
execution viewing room. The governor gets her there through obvious
psychological manipulation and she promptly faints.
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| The Criminal |
Then they bring in the criminal's special-needs brother (Billy Seymour), who has also been in the waiting room. For a while he goes into
spasms of joy and they embrace. Following some reminiscing on their childhood and some soft strokes and
hugs from Richard, he admits he turned Richard in- he found the half-dead girl in the
cupboard and turned his own brother in. He says his mother knew all along. We
feel sorry for this poor, strange and certainly below-average intelligent boy and we
even feel a little sorry for the neutered criminal.
Then suddenly whilst in his brother's embrace, Richard the
raper regains himself, or that which he has never lost, that which he has only
been faking and kills his poor brother on the spot.
He then launches into a ferocious monologue terrifying his
rapt audience.
"He was lying you know, he knew all along. He had a go
on her himself. He just panicked when the stupid slut died."
Cue more moral questioning from the audience as we know he
speaks the truth.
On and on and on he goes, evil to the core as he threatens
to kill various members of the team.
Then suddenly we leave them. Aware that dawn is breaking and
the experiment has not worked. How will this end?
The lights are down and we hear the sound of a wall moving
as the entire right hand side of the stage area is pulled back to reveal the
theatre - or where the audience usually sit. We are on the stage. Rows and rows
of blank seats stare back at us as we look right, feeling observed, feeling part
of the whole experiment.
Then up in the circle, we see two of the guards sitting
watching us. They are talking as-if outside the prison where media and
protestors are waiting and apparently ambulances and police.
"I filled the syringes with water. I sabotaged it. I
couldn't let this happen, I couldn't let out society regress." He speaks over the
empty stalls.
"And now they are all dead” says the other, "what
was the point. Your own selfish heroic cause; that was not the way you should
have done it!"
Really that is all I remember. And then we, the audience
filed out, numb from it. Too many questions, too much to think-over and no
signposts to tell us what we should think. That I believe is a sign of good
theatre.
What made the play so successful is not only the
topsy-turvy, disorientating staging, but the class of the actors - particularly
the wonderful Leo Bill as Richard who had us all thrilled, Billy Seymour played
the part of his mentally disabled brother sensitively with no clichés and Cara Hogan as the
governor has an alarming presence on stage- wonderful acting.
The music and staging was also extremely successful, each
item, each chorus necessary not over-cluttered, forcing us to focus on the
action.
I'm not going to pretend it was a happy experience, it was
not. I laughed, cried and was horror-struck and afraid in equal measure. It took two bottles of wine afterwards for my friend and I to feel near to normal. But it
was a powerful performance that I'd certainly recommend.
Lyric Hammersmith, Lyric Square, King St, London W6 0QL
Images are all (c) The Lyric on Flickr
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