Since my little break in Girona, I have been out so much and writing so much other stuff I’ve had no time to blog. For anyone interested the other stuff includes three short stories, an album review and an article about the opening of the new Blue Note London jazz club for All About Jazz the international portal for all things jazz. If you want some fun reads they are here. https://www.allaboutjazz.com/articles-by-mike-raggett.
The day I got back from Spain on an on-time flight and a Stansted Express that worked well, I was able to pop home, shower and get back to Stratford East to see Bloodsport the new play by Ava Pickett whose 1536 Frances and I had enjoyed so much at The Almeida and which rightfully later had a West End run. Subtitled “After Helen of Troy” she seems to have tapped into a zeitgeisty appetite for reworked classics from Greece and Rome. Pickett is herself an Essex girl and the set was straight out of TOWIE as were some of the characters.
It was an absolutely brilliant dissection of human relationships introduced by a tracksuited chorus man who gives us the context that Helen had started an English civil war by going off with an “outsider”. There’s misogyny, racism and violence – horribly relevant at a time when balaclaved men were marauding in the streets of Britain. But the dystopian message is shot through with wit, humour and satire of lifestyles and life choices and concludes with an astonishing piece of theatre.
No spoilers as I hope this brilliant play will get a transfer. I see that one of my other favourites of the year The Guilty is to have a deserved West End run – go see it!
The next evening saw me join Frances at the Kiln Theatre for Table 17, a rather different examination of human relationships. Set in a booth in a swanky American bar Jamael Westman as Dallas and Marisha Wallace as Jada are exes having a reunion for what purpose we are not quite sure. They time slip (and execute rapid wardrobe changes) to show us their past and make us wonder if they are going to get together again. They are observed and interrupted by Michael Rishawn’s camp bar host (and several other roles) who just about steals the show with his deep yearning for a relationship and snippy comments on what he sees and hears. But whereas Bloodsport was harrowing in places, Table 17 is light and fluffy and you leave the theatre with a smile on your face.
On Friday we convened in the RHS Linley Hall for Drink Japan. Shoko had provided us with free tickets and the evening provided us with free sake and the opportunity to learn more about the subtle differences in flavour and mouthfeel of different brews. We met Shoko as well and some of her friends and had a totally mad couple of hours. We were able to walk back to Victoria Station afterwards, you’ll be pleased to hear.
I hadn’t ventured as far west as The Lyric Hammersmith for some years but Lucy Kirkwood’s The Children sounded interesting. I had not seen the original production ten years ago and despite some fine acting from Meera Syal, Declan Conlon and Kerry Fox, I found the production dull and the script a bit dated despite its chime with the apocalypic world we live in.
The premise is that a Chernobyl/Fukushimi event has taken place in England and the characters are retired nuclear engineers. A reunion in a remote cottage leads to exploration of past events, a sense of responsibility and ultimately the view that they should go back and supervise the clean up so as to let the younger employees (the children of the title) live full lives whereas they are in the final stages of theirs anyway. Again personal emotions and past relationships feature strongly. There are some elements of humour but it wasn’t my best experience of the week.
Man to Man at the Royal Court saw a bravura performance from Tilda Swinton in a play where on the death of her husband and family breadwinner, the widow takes on her husband’s identity as a crane driver and takes us through many scenes of repression, mysogyny while portraying the rise of Nazism in timely messages for today. Clad in a vest and red Y-front men’s pants, her performance is quite astonishing as she moves through story-prompting props which litter the stage. Sadly the play wasn’t quite as good as the performance but the evening will live long in the visual memory thanks to Tilda who had performed the play 39 years ago initially at Edinburgh.
I love a good newsroom story – Hecht and MacArthur’s The Front Page is of course the classic and I was looking forward to The Story at the NT. For a change Tracey Scott Wilson’s play is set in an all black newsroom but with the usual banter, jockeying for the best stories and bailiwick preservation. Cue murder of a white schoolteacher by a black person while the victim’s pregnant wife watches the deed unfold. There are some nice theatrical elements with breaking fourth wall and acting as chorus and commentators on the action.
Letitia Wright is quite brilliant as Yvonne the ambitious reporter with a white newspaper proprietor boyfriend who promises to get her out of the black enclave at the paper if she can bring home the best stories. Her traditionalist editor Pat, played by Lorraine Toussaint,wants positive black stories and bemoans the lack of opportunities. It is fast and furious with multiple scenarios on stage and screen and despite keeping its setting in pre-social media 2003, it raises serious questions of fake news, media manipluation and sterotyping.
A much more quiet and intimate evening followed at the Orange Tree where a small and quiet light by Stephanie Street [her choice of lower case] explores a little known story of second world war heroism. Meticulous research can sometimes spoil a theatrical endeavour but Street’s collaboration with lead actor Priyanga Burford delivers an enthralling tale.
It is based on the real life of Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan the first female radio operator parachuted into France in 1943 to assist the resistance. She is staggeringly effective in getting messages back, moving from plalce to place and finding ways to broadcast but is ultimately betrayed and captured. Indeed the play opens with her interrogation by a Nazi officer. The timeline jumps about from Noor’s childhood to her capture and the cast represent multiple characters in her all-too-short life. It was engrossing, moving and told me a story I didn’t know in an engaging manner.
Saturday saw me make a welcome return visit to the V&A Storehouse with my daughter, who had not been before, on our way to the ballet at Sadler’s Wells East. The Storehouse retains its appeal with the serendipitous juxtapositions of items from various periods and cultures. One item I hadn’t seen on my previous visit was the office for Edward J Kaufmann designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. To see such splendid work in its entirety is spectacular – desk, chairs, carpet and light fittings just as Lloyd Wright intended. We also enjoyed the David Bowie collection with suitable sound track and videos, but the thousands of personal items, song lyrics and wardrobe rails filled with exotic costumes – all of which you can pull from the racks to explore provided a fascinating insight into his genius.
We then went to East for a pleasant supper in the Park Bar and Kitchen before seeing Deepfake. This is a work by Jessica Wright and Morgann Runacre-Temple who have been choreographing works together for fifteen years as Jess & Morgs. The use of video and screens in the theatre has become a bit of bore as familiartity breeds contempt but this dance was all about the cameras and their depiction of a political scandal set against a green screen on which were projected minister’s offices, a TV studio and other locations. Characters’ projections move across rectangular blocks only to join their real selves contine the progress. It has music, speech and a cast of green clad dancers who swoop elegantly to move props and propel the action. It is a brilliant exploration of truth and reality in the era of fake news. Both Jo and I loved it and found the use of technology totally justified.
Sunday 4 October marked the 90th anniversary of the battle of Cable Street when the combined powers of London’s Eastenders confronted and drove out a proposed march by Oswald Mosley’s blackshirt fascists. The event is marked by a huge mural and the day was commemorated with marches and a poetry slam in the nearby St. George In-The-East church. The British Bilingual Poetry Collective was invited to participate and four of us followed rather shyly in the wake of the brilliant Michael Rosen and other noted poets to contribute to the themes of Cockney/East End identity and the sense of community. It was a most enjoyable way to look back on what a community can do when faced with existential threat provided that all faiths and races collaborate with each other.
On my goodness that’s 1500 words and I am just coming up to the point where I was away from home for nine evenings on the spin – better save that for the next one!
