The piece is basically an adaptation of a book by Maggie Nelson, which is a narrated story, more in the form of a poetic meditation than a novel.
All of the cast were excellent: Emma D’Arcy, Kayla Meikle & Ben Whishaw – especially the former.
The use of film projections and intriguing props, which we often find a distraction when we see them used in theatrical productions, worked extremely well in this piece. I have subsequently read the book and realise that the visual devices were, in a way, a distraction from some of the words, but in a good way given the dramatic sense those devices gave to the production.
Reviews are out now, although we saw a preview. (IT has taken me a few weeks to get around to writing this up). Click here for a link that shows the reviews. The reviews are mixed. londontheatrereviews.co.uk shared our feeling that this was as an excellent example of theatrical productions using projections. But I sense that Susannah Clapp in The Observer was more intrigued by the piece than overboard about it. Time Out found it a bit obscure, as did theartsdesk.com
Click through the preceding link, read the reviews…and if you get the chance, see the show and decide for yourselves!
I don’t suppose we booked a play named “Anatomy Of A Suicide” expecting to go to the theatre for a jolly time. Which is just as well.
In any case, the Vicky Featherstone regime at the Royal Court specialises in miserablist theatre, as I have discussed elsewhere, so we knew what to expect.
The play is about three generations of women. As the story starts to unfold, each scene in effect depicts three scenes, one for each of those generations, being shown to the audience at the same time.
If that sounds like information and sensory overload to you, then you are spot on; that is exactly what it is. In truth, most of the time there are two active, dialogue scenes and one less active, minimal or no dialogue scene. But still, a heavy sensory load, if not overload.
Further, the play is two hours long without an interval, which is a heck of a long time for drama without a break, even in the easiest of scenarios. Which this isn’t.
Janie described the experience immediately afterwards as feeling like we’d been put through a mental ringer.
And yet it worked as a play and we were both really pleased we’d seen it.
At first, I’m sure both of us were thinking “what on earth is going on here?”, but as the play pans out, the central device becomes apparent and you do get a good sense of what is happening in each of the three generations and how the earlier generations’ events impact on the later generations and how the later generations’ events echo those of the earlier ones.
Paul Hilton is a fine actor who we’ve seen several times – he does a grand job in this play. As does Kate O’Flynn – indeed all of the cast were very good.
It must be fiendishly complicated to direct and perform – like a dramatic symphony with so many different parts which have to time and sound in harmony with each other. In fact, we were at the first preview and Katie Mitchell stood up before the show to address the audience. She warned us that the piece was so complex to perform that they might have to stop and start in places on this first performance – but apart from a couple of stutters which might have passed for deliberate, the whole thing was done with aplomb that night.
So, despite the play being a grim portrayal of depression and suicide, it was gripping and superbly unusual drama. We’ll remember this one for a long time. For people with sufficient attention span and a sense of dramatic adventure, we’d highly recommend this play/production.
Janie and I certainly both enjoyed a glass or two of white wine with our light smoked salmon and salad supper when we got home; we’d recommend that too.
A different recent supper on a different continent, but I’m sure you get the drift
Janie and I saw this one the day after we got married…
…I’m not sure the thoughts of Gertrude Stein were entirely appropriate for that occasion…
…not that it was always possible to work out from these pieces what the thoughts of Gertrude Stein really are/were.
We really wanted to like this assortment of short pieces. Some of them were really interesting and/or enjoyable. But some were, I suppose predictably, very obscure indeed.
It was very well done – Katie Mitchell and a very strong cast. The downstairs had been transfromed into several performance rooms – the audience had to mill around as the scenes/performers moved from piece to piece. We liked all of that.
A rare (at that time) visit to the Hampstead on a Saturday. It was the start of a trend away from Hampstead Theatre Fridays towards Hampstead Theatre Saturdays for us.
Three seemingly different stories that sort-of overlap and sort-of don’t. It’s hard to explain why, but Simon Stephens has a way with drama that simply keeps you gripped and thinking throughout.
Here is a very interesting behind the scenes short film from Sky Arts, including interviews with Simon Stephens, Linda Basset and several of the other cast and creatives, about Wastwater:
What a grim evening of theatre this turned out to be.
The only ungrim thing about the evening was bumping into George Littlejohn and his good lady in the foyer before the show and then again in the interval. I have known George since 1994 when we met, for reasons that will only be explained to you if you click here, at the 1994 inaugural Accountancy Awards. Only click if you find pompous awards funny; don’t click if you take them seriously.
The play is about young upwardly mobile Viennese trainee doctors in the 1920’s, who should have been among the most happening people on earth were it not for their unfortunate juxtaposition with time and space (i.e. 1920’s Vienna) and their existential angst.
Janie and I hated the first half of the play and resolved not to stay for the second half. I’m not saying that it was either going to be members of the cast, or us, or a mixture of those two cohorts, but suicide was clearly on the cards during the second half. We made absolutely certain it wasn’t going to be us.
Unfortunately for George and his good lady, they had some sort of connection with someone involved in the production, so they stayed for the second half. We wished them luck as we waved them goodbye.
The irony of the bad straplining of that last piece will not be wasted on George Littlejohn, who was at one time the editor of Accountancy Age, no less, but has since managed to exceed even those giddy heights.
Despite their ordeal, sticking out the whole evening, I am pleasantly surprised, indeed delighted, to report that both the Littlejohns seem hale and hearty at the time of writing (January 2017). Janie and I ran into them both again at the Curzon Bloomsbury on New Year’s Day 2017 – click here, which triggered this memory and hence this write up.
Weird play, this one. You never quite know what’s going on with Martin Crimp. This play is a companion piece to one named The Country, which we saw at the Royal Court in the summer of 2000 and rated as “very good”.
The Country was also weird, but The City was, I think, even weirder. Short play, though. I seem to recall it got us talking and thinking, which is good.
A young Benedict Cumberbatch, still emerging as a star, was in this one. Hattie Morahan and Amanda Hale were also very good in it.
Janie and I were very taken with this creepy three-hander at the Royal Court. I remember us agreeing that it was Pinteresque at the time – without the influence of reviews I hasten to add.
I think this was our first sighting of a Martin Crimp play and for sure we were intrigued enough to seek out his work several times subsequently.
Owen Teale, Juliet Stevenson and Indira Varma, directed by Katie Mitchell. All people who had impressed us before and/or since.
My friend Michael Billington in the Guardian shared our fascination with this piece and also saw the Pinter parallels:
My log says that we thought Easter “excellent” wheras I rated The Dance Of Death “superb”. Not sure whether one of those big adjectives trumps the other. We clearly very much enjoyed both plays/productions.
Katie Mitchell directed Easter and the cast was excellent. A young Lucy Whybrow picked up an Ian Charleson Award for her role as Eleanora in this production. Adrian Rawlins played Elis, Susan Brown played the mother and Philip Locke played the sinister Lindkvist.
