Author Archives: Andy Roberts

About Andy Roberts

Andy Roberts is a theatre & performance maker with Bootworks Theatre company, he is also a director of the company. He has an MA from Chichester University and currently Administrates The ShowRoom Theatre Chichester.

Rash Dash: Scary Gorgeous

Scary Gorgeous revolves around the themes of sex, pornography, relationships and the need to be popular. We follow two narrative strands: a young couple whose relationship is based around their sexual urges and contemplations of love, and a passive aggressive friendship where two girls (Abbi and Helen) constantly challenge one another’s morals and identity.

Rash Dash really throw everything in their artistic arsenal into their shows – song, dance and a live band are all combined here into a frenzied hour. Amid all these theatrical devices the real heart of the performance is when we see these two young artists (in character) slow down and just talk to us about their personal experiences of love and sex, which is far more engaging than the disjointed mix of live music and dance offered elsewhere.

I am unsure who this show’s target audience is – one would assume adults with its time slot and use of language, but with the content, especially the scenes that tackle themes of sex and pornography, the duo seem to have gone to great lengths to tone it down. The pair could have taken a more provocative approach considering the content, which may have pleased the hard-hitting contemporary crowd a lot more.

Rash Dash handle the dialogue between characters incredibly well and the honesty in their feelings really comes across without preaching. But the live band seemed out of place for a lot of the production and were unable to gel with the performance as a whole. The dance sequences, also, were unable to breathe due to a lack of space, and the need to continue each narrative strand held the performers back from really exploring the movement’s relationship to the production’s content.

Rash Dash have an interesting approach to performance, and putting aside some of the content and choices there are times here where they succeed in bringing a fresh and honest performance to life.

www.rashdash.co.uk

Melanie Wilson and Abigail Conway: every minute, always

Reviewed by Dorothy Max Prior and Andy Roberts

Her: We’re invited to come with a partner or friend. It’s a trip to the cinema, I’ve found a nice young man, and we’re offered the back row and a box of popcorn (‘salty or sweet?’) by the prettily-uniformed usherette. Well, what could be better on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in Edinburgh?

Him: ‘Simple and uncomplicated’ – well at least that’s the persona I internally accepted upon suggestion from the soft voice in my headphones. I never asked my partner afterwards what title she placed upon herself, and I hope she’s OK with me labelling her ‘complicated and kind-hearted’ but in the cosy moment it just seemed to fit.

Her: Complicated? Moi? Oh, OK. You’re just a simple guy… You seem a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I’m old enough to be your mother. Oh I see, that’s what’s worrying you.

Him: In the dark cinema’s low lighting I feel aware of my every movement and what signals I might be sending to my partner. But that’s what we are here to embrace, the small nuances we display as we lose ourselves in the movie – being so close to someone, the intimacy is already in place, but there are rules of etiquette we share without knowing.

Her: ‘Lean closer, move your leg towards your partner, offer your hand, turn and smile into their eyes…’ It’s hard to know if he’s getting the same instructions and ignoring them, or if I’ve been cast as the pushy one! Oh OK, so now he’s putting his arm round me, slightly tentatively, but very sweetly.

Him: Brief Encounter (1945) is the movie there on the cinema screen, and the etiquette of the 1940s era encompasses the space. I sit there feeling as if I have been placed into Trevor Howard’s shoes. Was my partner feeling a little like Celia Johnson? I’m unsure but I hope so. In the modern world gently taking someone’s hand sat next to you might not mean much, but it becomes apparent that these things really do have resonance, not just in the piece but in our everyday encounters with friends and family and that’s what’s so lovely – the piece never attempts to be anything more than a gentle and brief encounter with the person sat next to you. It’s not in-yer-face or life-changing and the piece does have its faults: it’s clear the focus is on us and our relationship with the person we are sat next to, but the interaction with the performers (our ushers) could have been embellished more to warm up the 1940s aesthetic.

Her: It’s a lovely set-up, but it feels like a slight piece. I’m not sure quite else what they could have done – I don’t think they could or should have pushed the personal physical contact beyond what was proposed. But it felt lacking; as if there was somewhere it needed to go next and never got to. But Melanie Wilson’s text is, as ever, poetic and beautiful, and the red-plush setting and usherettes’ outfits a simple but beautiful design (visual/live artist Abigail Conway’s contribution, I presume). I also liked the inclusion of a classic cartoon (Steamboat Willy, perhaps?) as a warm-up, referencing the days when a trip to the cinema meant more than just the main feature!

Him: Most of all it was really nice to escape the frenzy of the festival and share a cosy moment with a friend over a box of salty popcorn.

Her: Well, I don’t really do the ‘stars’ or ‘marks out of ten’ thing, but yes, I’d be happy to see him again. Just as friends.

www.melaniewilson.org.uk

Mars.tarrab: Tomboy Blues – The Theory of Disappointment

In Tomboy Blues – The Theory of Disappointment two performers explore the nature of disappointment and tomboyish behaviour by trailing through their childhood memories, quoting cheesy movies, listening to music, and reading unreliable science books. We focus on the scientific fact that hope is intrinsically built into every human psyche, and that to have hope will unavoidably lead to disappointment. So for two tomboys trying to tell a love story about two girls wanting to dress and act like boys, struggling with their place in society, inevitably hope and disappointment are handed out in equal measure.

The performers frantically embody the space and keep the tempo high throughout, and there’s an amateurish quality to their performance register that adds to the boyish element of play being explored. The duo are honest in their tales as they play with underwear and Barbie dolls, but these theatrical representations feel obvious and a little clichéd, and the production is at its strongest when the pair focus on the loneliness of their situation: they embrace each other with such gentleness, allowing the moment to materialise with stillness and control. The awkward dance in the hideous pink dresses perfectly encapsulates the attitude of the whole production, equally representing the frigidity and happiness of their life choices. The performance fluctuates as they build up a sense of hope, which will only be met with disappointment, as the more pessimistic of the two interrupts the flow.

Productions exploring identity and otherness seem rife at the Fringe this year, but Tomboy Blues has a really charming and gentle quality, never preaching, as it reveals the realities of the performers’ lives.

www.marstarrab.co.uk

Shock N Awe: Muscle

Muscle is an ensemble piece of verbatim theatre that explores what it takes to be a man. Through a series of collected stories the all-male company combine projection, dance and verbatim text to bring these personal accounts of manhood to life.

Due to the form Shock N Awe have chosen to explore masculinity I was sure I was in for the usual clichéd stories of woe and heartbreak, but I was quite pleasantly surprised. The company have done a lot of digging and the stories worked well in a rich mix spanning across the centuries, combining different ages and ethnicities. The company put a lot of effort into bringing out the characters in each story rather than just the narrative they had to tell, and the performance score worked well, giving each section the right amount of time to be fully realised. It’s in the nature of the work that everyone will walk away with their own favourite tale and character, and the section involving Barry – a young ten year-old trying to look after his family – dominates a lot of stage time as we fly through the years of his life. The company have respectfully given this narrative the time and space it needed and surprisingly have steered clear of whacking a piece of physical movement in for effect; the story was all the stronger for it.

The performances from this multi-aged group are solid, and they work well as an ensemble even in the moments of dance, but it was quite clear which of the performers have dance training. Not all of the dances worked in this production, and it was only when describing the life of a disabled boy that the movement had true resonance with the text (though the projection that was thrown in for effect wasn’t needed).

Shock N Awe have done a solid job of bringing these stories to life. In formal terms this company are not covering any new ground, but they have accomplished an interesting take on masculinity in a good piece of ensemble theatre.

www.shocknawe.org.uk

Inconvenient Spoof: Naïve Dance Masterclass

Matt Rudkin left the world of professional dance to take a job in the Metropolitan police, but, after some time spent riot training with his new friends, a chance meeting with a busking hula princess (represented to us in the form of a small toy) lead to an epiphany, the development of naïve dance, and the ultimate return of Matt to the world of contemporary dance. The recounting of this story is the first of many surreal moments that grace the stage, and it only gets wonderfully odder from there on in.

The performance itself is in the form of a lecture-presentation, building up to the inevitable demonstration of naïve dance, the reason we are all here. Rudkin has amazing stage presence. His ability to flip performance registers is quite surreal – every time he switches back to his formal lecture mode there’s a moment of realisation at how mad the piece has become, and every time you think you have found a flaw in his weird dance logic Rudkin brings his own reasoning to light. He mocks the forms of contemporary dance/performance, but at the same time pays nothing but tribute to them.

The inevitable moment comes as the demonstration of naïve dance – which is made up of three stages: the dance of air, liquid and flesh – begins, but it is quickly broken by the entrance of the real life hula princess. The focus of the story is then positioned on the twisted relationship between the two of them.
There are many highlights in this surprising and entertaining performance as the strange just keeps getting stranger: the manipulation dance where the hula girl is thrown about the stage is both compassionate and fierce, and has you transfixed; and the mini performance art puppet is nothing short of brilliant as a reflection of the audience’s own grasp on what has just taken place in front of them.

This performance won’t be for everyone, but will be remembered by all who witness it. Surreal, weird and brilliant, I can’t wait to see what Inconvenient Spoof come up with next.

Total Theatre