I Love Big Brother: 1984 at the Playhouse Theatre

George Orwell's 1984 is probably one of the texts’ that has most affected me in my life. I cannot say I have always loved it or that I did not struggle with its politics and deceptive language the first time I read it at 14 or 15. I loathed having to read the sections of O’Brien's book certainly. But I understood it and its suggestions burned deep within my psyche as a teenager, in a mind already troubled by pigs that looked like Stalin (aged 13). It was the beginning of my fervour for dystopian novels that lasted a few years, perfectly echoing my cynical teenage ways and I read my way through Atwood and Huxley, Burgess and HG Wells. 

Since GCSE coursework, I picked it up a couple of times at university for references but never read it properly again. Somehow it haunted me and the less than pleasant nature of the subject and the gruelling energy required for digestion somehow stopped me from rereading it. It's been 14 years. 

When the Headlong production at the Almeida Theatre received rave reviews, I knew I wanted to see it (it was at the Nottingham Playhouse prior to this). I knew that its relevance in today's screen-filled, observed world was almost not worth mentioning to the educated; I just wanted to see how it would be produced. Would it still shock and make one question everything. Or was I just older and less cynical now, hardened against Orwell's didactic warnings. Ready just to observe the way it was interpreted. Was I hell. 

I finally got tickets to the production when it transferred to the Playhouse Theatre on the Embankment and went in with no pre-conceptions with my standard theatre friend D. Light Wednesday viewing we knew it would not be,

“Will we be very depressed do you think, afterwards?”

“Most likely,” I answered, “but in the good way, the Byronic way, the I’ve just got angry about the world, but at least I’m involved way.. You know.”

The thing is, relative to Orwell’s message in the novel is, it did not depress me. Relative to my viewing of the great 1984 film Nineteen Eighty Four with John Hurt and Richard Burton, it did not either. This play is sharp and certainly encourages reflection, but it did not out and out depress me.

The creators, Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan have created a nimble yet intelligent adaptation. The set by Chloe Lamford is fabulous and so simple, one backdrop really, until Room 101, with a small bedroom partition as the sluttish “room with no screen” in the place that time stood still. The use of lighting, sound and video projections is also perfectly apt for this production, used wisely and well. Cracking through the senses at the exact points necessary and propelling Orwell’s far-too cliché-cluttered Room 101, back to its original terrifying form.

From the beginning of the play the presence of a crowd of people, unrecognisable characters who seem to be discussing Orwell’s novel, work as an impressive narrative tool... almost Brechtian, I thought, so aah... yes we are observing fiction here... This became more confusing as the play went on as characters in the “book club” seem to also be part of Winston’s life and unravelling. Nothing new there you may say, multiple roles, but it felt more uncomfortable, like they were sort of living part of his story as they discussed it, or had already lived it. Was it a novel or a case study or a history book, we may never know.

 

 

The lead actors, Sam Carne as Winston and Hara Yannas as Julia were also affective. Though both far too attractive, from what I remember of the novel, this did not affect your belief of them. Carne particularly plays Winston as the reluctant hero that we all know him to be. With a stuttering sort of character, never knowing whether he is in or out, or what he knows, seized by fits of passionate hatred and lulls of quiet dissonance.

The themes we know and love are still there. The demise of language into newspeak, something which thankfully worries me less now as it did 14 years ago, as I see more and more words enter our dictionaries; no snobbery against the #selfie please and thank-you. Yes, doublethink, well we know this can happen.

Screens, screens and watching us ALL THE TIME, for the paranoid luddites this will certainly ring true, for the normal person who browses the internet, this will feel like a nagging headache. Yes we should be careful. Even in the room with no screen they are seen. 

 Love. Is it there? I wasn’t convinced in this production, but then I never have been. From the moment I first read 1984, I did not believe in the love between Winston and Julia. She is his soapbox, his humanity, the one who shoves him from the comfort of thoughtcrime to out and out treason and hatred of Big Brother. But love, I don’t know. In this production, she very obviously personifies human desires, wants, needs, all the things banned by Big Brother. Chocolate and sex she is... To be honest, I always thought Orwell was a little unfair on Julia; he seems to hate her and love her equally. She is brave but where is this directed. Can we really believe that someone in that circumstance would only care about their animal wants while risking so much... but that’s just me.

A particularly resonating scene of the production for me was the two minutes hate, a government form of brainwashing by whipping the subjects into a frenzy of hate against the party enemies by showing them shocking footage. This is something where live action beats the page and although we all know about extremist regimes that practice this. It was recognising similar traits in our society that shivered down my spine. Hatred of particular groups or people is all too easy when we are looking for someone to blame.

Room 101... the terror, the torture the mind. This was also a chilling scene as I said. The set resembled a mental institute and reminded the audience or certainly me of the egocentric nature of our fear and our rebellion. Especially exaggerated in this production,

 “If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

Well, yes and this is the route of all the fear of Big Brother, if he can change in our inner thoughts, then we are doomed.

I do not know how the creators of this production managed to fit so much into 90 minutes. Even those with no knowledge of Orwell’s novel would comprehend and consider the messages in this play... Go see it. It’s a must.

1984 is at The Playhouse Theatre, London
Running until 23^rd August.

Flights of Fame: Birdland at the Royal Court

   

"Do you want to go and see 'A piercing new play looking at empathy, money and fame' - Birdland, it is at the Royal Court newish... I know it's a Monday but..."

It's fair to say our seats were pretty far back, but when you go online for the £10.00 day release tickets for a new play at 9.07 instead of dead on 9.00, that is loath to happen. Theatre-friend D and I were reasonably early and she was so suntanned in the greyness of rainy Sloane Square that I felt positively cement coloured next to her.

"India good was it..Let's get some wine... 

Also, I can't believe Peaches Geldof has just died, I nearly threw up on the way here. It's just so terrible."

"I looked after her dog once you know.. When I worked for that designer."

"I know.. Can you move under the alcove please it's raining quite a bit now... Isn't it weird that we feel so sad about it when we didn't even know her. I cried a bit and I felt guilty for crying, cos we don't like know her... Can I have my lighter back please"

This was how are evening started. Grey and morose. I knew it wouldn't be a cheery one either "the perils of fame" having been bandied around a bit in reference to Birdland. To be honest none of the plays I go to see seem to be that cheerful. The man behind the bar told us the set was impressive, though.. that was something. Indeed our seats were so far back and with both of us being blind as bats you see. It was like a Van Gough version.

"That's why we can't book last minute.. we're too vain to carry our specs around all the time..."

D's blinder than me...but we could make out the impressive stage from the start, all water - a sort of moat actually, blue lighting and upright wooden structures and I could make out the faces of the "company" of characters. You know thems... all in sunglasses and trendy outfits and signifying the mood around the lead character. Such a modern narrative tool but actually Shakespeare did it OK.

 And how did I not know Andrew Scott was playing the lead... I am such a fan of his acting and his weird, weird voice and face. Famous as Moriarty in Sherlock opposite beautiful Benedict and I remember him in the Hour too, but really he's a prolific theatre actor. He's got such a way with being evil and twisting his face and body up... such a physicality about him..

The play tells the tale of the last week of a very famous rockstar's third tour. Fame has already gripped this guy, there's no going back. He's bored, cruel, jumpy and slightly insane.

 

He treats money like water, he boredly copulates with any female that he tosses his eyes at.. Including his best friend's girlfriend who then kills herself. He takes a member of the female hotel staff from Moscow to Paris because he can.

His character is really very hard to sympathise with. Wired that he is. Consumed by fame that he is.

He hates the fame. Hates not knowing he is. Hates the photos and yet he loves it too. Loves his own power.

In a conversation with his father who's asking him for money he is shocked over he value of £1000.00 to his father. It's not uncharted territory.

“Everything can be quantified. All worth can be quantified. Artistic worth. Human worth. Material worth. Everything. Some food is simply better than other food. Isn’t it? Some clothes are better than other clothes. Aren’t they?” - Paul

Of course he ends up in a sticky end.. Sleeping with a minor, facing jail time, owing his record company millions and do unable to quit.

What is incredible is both the acting of Andrew Scott and the wonderful set. As the perils of fame suck Paul further into its clutches, the stage submerges, tilted into the surrounding water.

Other cast members are ghostly as if unreal and we live through his manic mind, never sure if what we believe to be happening actually is.

The physicality that Scott displays as Paul is all part of it as well, jerkily dancing throughout. The bird that he is, pulled by the winds of fame like a dark Icarus, too close to the desired prize, or the black swan whose lost all memory of the white.

Overall I would recommend this play to anyone who is interested in the nuances of fame or who wants to see an excitingly staged production with a lead actor that takes up the stage with his entire physical presence. Drugs, sex, ghosts, suicide, paedophilia, blackmail, loneliness it has it all. Who'd want that. 

It wasn't cheerful is for sure. We sat soggily in the bar next door after the performance, not perky, watching Sloane Square go home, thankful we weren't famous. 

Birdland
Written by Simon Stephens
Directed by Carrie Cracknell
3 April - 31 May

at

The Royal Court
50-51 Sloane Square
London
SW1W 8AS

020 7565 5000

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Images (c) Richard H. Smith
Video (c) The Royal Court

Sshh... It's a.. Secret Theatre, Show 3 at The Lyric

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.

 

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.

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.

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.

Roll on Show 4... Coming soon

More on the cast and crew here...

The Lyric, Hammersmith

Lyric Hammersmith, Lyric Square, King St, London W6 0QL

Images are all (c) The Lyric on Flickr