Author Archives: James Foz Foster

Boogaloo Stu: Crimplene Millionaire

Boogaloo Stu: Crimplene Millionaire

Boogaloo Stu: Crimplene Millionaire

As we take our seats in the upstairs theatre of the Oval House we are confronted with a stage laid out with a spiral of large orange dots looking like a relative of the game Twister. In the centre sits an Orville the Duck on a turntable and off to the side is a 1970s portable television displaying the wordsCrimplene Millionaire. The cheesy 70s game show music starts up and our grey haired, bushy eyebrowed and mutli-patterned crimplene clad host takes to the stage with the swagger of an old-time light entertainer who has spent his life on the boards. Please welcome Derek Daniels!

Derek is the new creation of Stuart Alexander, aka Boogaloo Stu – a DJ, singer, performer, party host and performance artist who’s a legend in Brighton and a regular with Duckie. Although Boogaloo Stu is a theatrical creation, he has been partying, singing and making glove puppets amongst us for a good many years, so it’s good to see his work moving into a more theatrical setting with a character that you wouldn’t want to make friends with.

The show begins with Derek splitting the audience into three teams, each choosing a 70s icon to place on the stage/game-board which he moves around Ludo style as we throw giant fluffy dice. Each orange dot has a theme relating to the 70s , and will reveal a TV clip, a song or a challenge. While the game is played Derek regales us with showbiz stories of his life and career. He is a very strange character with an undefined northern accent that can switch between Brummie and Geordie in the middle of a sentence, and that rises higher and higher in pitch until it’s so high Derek has to sometimes stop and start again at a lower register (a reason for this is revealed later on in the show). The hammy bad acting, shtick, cringing patter and dodgy innuendos all reminding us of the darker side of seventies light entertainment (this show forms the ’70s’ element of Ovallhouse’s current Counterculture 50 journey through the decades).

Behind the ‘game for a laugh’ and supposed innocence of family entertainment is the story told by the themes on the board – one of a very dark decade of strikes, blackouts, riots, and of confronting the status quo of the post-war, ‘never had it so good’ generation. If the 60s was about revolution (failed), the 70s was a time of rebellion: class, race and sexual politics, all against the backdrop of jolly, upbeat TV commercials, catchphrases and Saturday night variety entertainment. The establishment, media and press struggled to keep up, while the mood on the streets darkened. This show could be seen as an ironic look back at how foolish we were or equally a celebration of our slowly evolving liberation with a warning not to be too complacent. The recent Jimmy Saville disclosures, pointing to the apparent involvement of some of the 70s biggest stars, hangs over the performance and is hinted at during Derek’s monologues. All of this is handled by Stu with grace, charm and a lightness of touch. The game show format, the questioning of the audience and the constant stream of information constantly remind us that just 30 years ago people were fighting for rights we now take for granted.

It was great to see Stu step out of his usual loveable bewigged and cat-suited persona to show a more complex and disquieting side to the retro themes he explores. The show was directed by Emma Kilbey who has obviously helped bring a theatrical discipline and structure to the show even if it does get a bit messy at times (butterscotch Angel Delight anyone?). Highlights were the great songs, the perfectly judged soundtrack, and what must have been the result of weeks rummaging in the second-hand shops of Brighton – the crimplene. The show has its faults – there were many technical issues and some confusion managing the audience interaction on the night, and Derek’s accent could do with settling in one county – but my feeling was we were in at the start of something special, and that the show will only get better.

Derek is a great character, all the better for the suspicion that he is secretly more monster than loveable rogue. I’m looking forward to seeing his court case.

http://www.boogaloostu.com/

The Lost and Found Orchestra

Yes/No Productions: The Lost and Found Orchestra

The Lost and Found Orchestra

As we enter the Dome’s auditorium our eyes are drawn to the colourfully lit stage featuring a multi-level scaffolding construction with industrial tubing arranged like church organ pipes, numerous giant wooden marimbas, a full set of plastic building site barrel timpani, and an array of Heath Robinson-esque apparatus waiting to reveal its purpose. The lights dim and a troupe of musicians take to the stage carrying cello cases which are played, unopened, as percussion instruments. And so starts The Lost and Found Orchestra…

The show has had quite a journey to this point. Created by Luke Cresswell and Steve Nicholas (of Stomp fame), it was first commissioned for the 2006 Brighton Festival and has undergone many and various changes whilst touring the world, now coming back full circle to Brighton. Having seen that original 2006 production, I was eager to see how much the show had changed and developed over the intervening six years.

The format, for the most part, is an orchestral performance – musicians on the scaffold playing instruments which remain fixed for the duration of the show – teamed with upbeat physical performance from a group of dancer/percussionists (the Stomp regulars) at stage-level who carry, push or ride around in instruments made from domestic junk and industrial waste. Garden hoses, shower units, carpet cleaners, bicycle bells, and bellows all have their moment. Each piece of music has a different selection of portable instruments played by the stage-level performers, which sets the theme and mood, and sometimes suggests a narrative of sorts. As an example: traffic cones used as trumpets (dubbed ‘plumpets’) and concrete-mixer percussion create the feel of a noisy roadworks scene.

Many of these makeshift instruments played by the physical performers form multiple parts within which each performer has his or her own individual note, the tune being made by each playing their note in sequence – an example being the ‘squonkaphones’, made from pipes of various length with balloons stretched over the end. This leads to a very energetic visual performance, displaying a high level of coordination and synchronisation, but the downside is the somewhat stilted and limited musical performance, which reminded me of Spike Milligan’s national anthem where each note is played by a different instrument – very funny, but soon gets jarring.

Character and personality are left mostly to the instruments – the exception being a solitary clown who stumbles around, weaving in and out of the other performers trying to join in. He is given very little space, and much of what he does is hard to see, crowded out as he is by the energetic jumping and running around of the other performers. The few times he was allowed the spotlight, the show gained some much needed heart and soul.

Cresswell and Nicholas made a very brave decision to move away from purely percussive playing, to explore the possibilities of harmony and musical innovation on found objects and specially constructed instruments. The engineering and inventiveness of the instruments and the standard of musicianship (for the most part) are excellent. Favourite pieces included: the home-made glass armonium – the most magical sound in the world, played in the same way as you would a glass, by rubbing a wet finger on the rim, except that this ‘glass’ has a full two or three octaves; the double-bass bed, in which the base of a bed turns into a stringed instrument; and the chorus of musical saws played delicately and harmoniously in tune (which is much harder than you might think).

It is in its theatrical elements that Lost and Found falls short. The original show had a great deal more oddball quirkiness and gentleness, and it has been noticeably ‘Stomp-ified’ over the years: there was a good deal less of the typical Stomp street percussion in the earlier version, and a less fixed, more theatrical set. One of the highlights of the 2006 show saw renowned circus performer Lindsey Butcher and other aerialists flying high across the stage on ropes that sounded bells and gongs. No doubt the current version of the show is more tourable – and more marketable to Stomp fans and to venues looking for ‘Stomp part 2’ – which is maybe a good commercial decision, but detracts from the odd and eccentric personality the original Lost and Found Orchestra had.

There is a growing trend for productions to mix live music and theatrical performance in equal balance. Done well – for example, in Zic Zazou’s Brocante Sonore: The Mechanicians, a show which also features an orchestra of junk and found instruments – the show is greater than the sum of its parts. In Lost and Found Orchestra there are very many beautiful and interesting parts, yet the sum of the whole somehow falls short of those inspiring parts.

www.lfopresents.co.uk

East End Cabaret: Notoriously Kinky

East End Cabaret: Notoriously Kinky

East End Cabaret: Notoriously Kinky

East End Cabaret are a female double act who are extremely charismatic, extremely talented musicians, extremely talented comedic fools, and extremely rude! Everything about them is EXTREME.

They are Bernadette Byrne, the tall vampy one, dressed in black with a black Weimar cabaret bob of a hairstyle, pale skin and wide red-rouged lips ready to bite the head off of any man who comes her way. She is the singer, the straight woman – and she is desperate for a man, any man. Victor Victoria is half-man half-woman in the Tommy Cooper tradition: the female half is a saucy dancing girl, the male half sporting tuxedo, bow tie and half-a-moustache (a visual motif they use on their publicity, handing out half-moustaches on sticks around the Royal Mile). Victor Victoria is the multi-instrumental musician, the clown/fool from the wrong side of the tracks. She is totally besotted with Bernadette, and extremely jealous of her male companions.

Together they are the perfect double act, exploring the master/servant clown tradition that has come down to us from Commedia via Music Hall and Variety. One tall, posh, good looking and sophisticated but somewhat lacking in life skills and judgement; the other smaller, rougher, gaudier, a fool with a cunning and deadly intelligence, a fool who doesn’t suffer other fools gladly (her looks of sheer contempt at the men Bernadette picks on are truly withering).

Notoriously Kinky is on the surface a cabaret musical act, but underneath lurks a dark tale of sex, longing, jealousy and murder – probably mass-murder. It opens with the pair playing to the audience in the queue. Once the audience have taken their seats Bernadette tries to get backstage without the audience seeing (obviously failing miserably). Victor Victoria takes the stage alone, sitting behind the piano, playing a ridiculously complicated, virtuoso opening, giving the game away when she takes her hands off the keys to wave when, of course, the music continues (an old chestnut, but beautifully executed). While playing she constantly looks into the audience, making eye contact with a vaudevillian grin, a nod and a wink. Sometimes the mask slips and she gives some poor man a contemptuous pout. It’s all brilliant clowning and audience contact that sets up the show perfectly.

Bernadette comes out and sings the first of many songs which would be much too rude to discuss here – every orifice, bodily fluid, and sexual deviancy is fully discussed in depth as she takes us on her quest to find a man who can satisfy her. As you can guess, no male in the audience is safe – she prowls the auditorium looking for men to pick on as Victor Victoria looks on in disgust.

Playing with the double act dynamic (Bernadette is always in the spotlight) Victor Victoria tries for a solo spot. She plays an instrumental she has composed for the Musical Saw, which she plays beautifully. Unfortunately, Bernadette is in the audience still trying to find a man, causing a ruckus that completely overshadows the music. She finds her man, but Victor Victoria, angry at the interruption and waving the saw in a threatening manner, informs Bernadette that the man displays all the signs… Which leads to a musical highlight of the show, them both pointing to the audience member while shouting ‘Serial Stalker!’ at him.

Later on, we have a song about a penis that won’t go down, which Bernadette tries but fails to satisfy, only to discover that the reason it won’t go down is… the horrible realisation is dawning on us as Victor Victoria shouts it out: ‘HE’S DEAD!”. She suffocated the poor man while Bernadette was in the bathroom ‘slipping into something a little more naked’. Bernadette runs away in shock – not the first time in the show that sees the two running around the room leaving an empty stage.

More poor men are abused, taken up on stage and made to dance extremely rudely. This all could be seen as vulgar and tasteless, yet the execution is precise, and the audience manipulation skilful –like other seasoned performers who work an audience, our duo know exactly who to pick to play with.

These are performers at the top of their game. The clowning and timing is immaculate, the songs are well crafted and easily stand alone. The lyrics are intelligent and poetic with barely a filler word or line. It’s just one great melody and brilliant lyric after another. The darkness is handled with a lightness of touch, and tongue is firmly in cheek. The audience had a riotous time. I’m just going to keep my head down next time I’m in their audience – or maybe go in drag.

www.eastendcabaret.com

Theatergroep WAK: Nothing Is Really Difficult

Theatergroep WAK: Nothing Is Really Difficult

Theatergroep WAK: Nothing Is Really Difficult

Nothing Is Really Difficult features three men (Toon Kuijpers, Dorus van der Meer and Bart Strijbos from Dutch Theatergroep WAK) and an audience in a box – a very big box!

On arriving at the venue, a space just outside the George Square Theatre, we find the upside-down wooden box. We know it’s upside down because there is a ‘this way up’ sign stencilled on it, upside down. The box is roughly made, bare wood, square, and about twenty-feet tall. Sitting on the top of the box is a man with a jigsaw making flyers out of bits of wood for the crowd below. These flyers (surely the best on the Fringe?) are made in funny shapes, including one called an ‘arrowphant’. He throws the flyers down to his two colleagues who hand them to the audience, whilst clowning and fooling around. Come performance time, those with tickets are guided into the box and informed that once inside there is no getting out. Already there is a frisson of expectation and nervous giggles.

Once inside the box we find, well, an empty box a bit like a giant packing crate but with wooden raked seating and a lighting rig. On the left and right of the stage area are two doors which swing both ways. The lights go down – more nervous giggles – and strange lights shine up from under the floorboards. It’s very quiet and we sit mesmerised. Then, the floor suddenly and shockingly lurches up at the corner, coming away from the wall with a crack, revealing a man trying to crawl up from under the floor. He becomes aware of the audience and stands staring in panic, not knowing what to say or do. In fact, much of the performance consists of the three performers in a state of panic, on the verge of speaking or action but not quite getting there, exploding finally in a fit of manic action. As one leaves, another slams in from a different direction, which could be up, down or sideways, or sometimes even through the walls or ceiling – the box is not as empty as it looks.

They are brilliant mimes and clowns, and their acrobatic skills are impressive – as the title suggests nothing is really difficult for this group of extraordinarily talented performers. Their comic timing is precise to the point of wonder. At one moment, a hole explodes in the roof, followed by a shower of debris. A rope is let down, and we expect a performer to climb or drop down. The performer on the floor looks up, we look up, a beat – and then, somehow shockingly, the rope falls to the floor. We gasp and erupt in applause.

Just like the Three Stooges or Marx Brothers, this threesome are a classic clown trio, playing with hierarchies, always in competition and trying to outdo one another in an effort to impress the audience. Confusion and misapprehension rule. One bends down in a position that looks like he wants to give another a leg up. Instead of accepting the offer, he bends down and turns to the third, who looks at the others and copies their pose. Now all three are in the same position, clutching their crotches and looking very embarrassed. This look of embarrassment and apology is a constant of the show. The silent mime is only broken once, which is in itself shocking and unexpected. Invention drives the performance with one awe-inspiring idea followed by another, always perfectly executed. It would have to be, as any slip looks like it would be extremely dangerous. When props do eventually make their way into the box they are wittily and imaginatively used, somehow always a shock, one skit suddenly turning into something else just when we least expect it. The humour becomes more offbeat and surreal as the piece progresses.

Interestingly Toon Kuijpers describes himself on the company website as ‘a playing-maker… I work with my body as a starting point’ which I think sums up what much of the performance is about – playing and making, transforming one thing into another, always with the performer and their physicality at its heart.

Nothing Is Really Difficult is an almost-perfect rollercoaster ride of a show that feels like it’s over all too soon. The audience emerges blinking and breathless back out into the sunlight, with a look on their faces that says they have just witnessed something unique – something very special.

www.theatergroepwak.nl