Author Archives: Matt Rudkin

About Matt Rudkin

Matt Rudkin is a theatre maker and teacher who creates work as Inconvenient Spoof. He has a BA in Creative Arts, an MA in Performance Studies, and studied with Philippe Gaulier (London), and The Actors Space (Spain). He was founder and compere of Edinburgh’s infamous Bongo Club Cabaret, concurrently working as maker and puppeteer with The Edinburgh Puppet Company. He has toured internationally as a street theatre performer with The Incredible Bull Circus, and presented more experimental work at The Green Room, CCA, Whitstable Biennale, ICA, Omsk and Shunt Lounge. He is also a Senior Lecturer in Theatre and Visual Art at the University of Brighton.

Figs in Wigs: Often Onstage

Often Onstage features a series of quirkily engaging dance/movement routines in kitschy outfits interspersed with video sequences and comical audience interaction. The onstage chemistry of the four young women performers (usually five, but they are one woman down on the show I saw) makes them a likeable and watchable ensemble, and there is a life-affirming joyfulness to their routines, which fuse a happy daftness with more formally complex and layered repetitions. It has the skilful but knowingly non-virtuoso feel of a Live Art work, with frequent dollops of self-referential reflection. There also seems scope to further develop the overall structure of the piece.

It begins with the fictional premise that we are watching the end of the previous show in the venue. There is a finale and then a series of curtain calls before they reappear in different costumes and hastily set-up for the ‘actual’ show. This is a quick-paced and frequently funny section, and a very smart solution to the problem of using anything but the slightest of sets given the Edinburgh Fringe’s famously minimal get-in times. It also contains a delightfully silly joke about ‘bare feet’ and other witty exchanges between the hastily preparing performers and the stage manager.

The main elements of the rest of the ‘actual’ show are the dance routines, choreographed to a wonderful selection of sound tracks and delivered in a Pop-kitsch / DIY aesthetic (reminiscent of the naive joys of OK Go! and Sparkle Motion). There is much dry ice, a variety of wigs, flashing lights, and glowing bum bags; and an abstract movement piece set to an eccentric noise-scape that was a particular highlight for me. This can make for an inspiring celebration of the possibilities of everyday creativity, which also demonstrating a good degree of technical competency. At times they appeared to actually go wrong, which felt unfortunate, although might be attributable to being one person short, which may have contributed to some missteps or hesitancy. (Unless that was another theatrical ruse, to highlight their missing member?)

These dance routines are punctuated by ponderings on how long before the arrival of ‘proper’ jobs and children deplete the troupe, and a section parodying the motivational truisms of a self-improvement seminar. The career question is understandable, but doesn’t necessarily prompt any alternatives to the obvious answer to just keep making them better and better, and in this sense they might actually take to heart the motivational truisms. At the end they make use of an elaborate slitted screen they set up during the ‘get-in’ section, bursting out of a Backstreet Boys pop video parody and performing a tribute band re-creation of one the boy band’s routines. This is an energetic and entertaining section, but the whole show ends with the ‘boys’ leaving the stage, and seems to be clearly missing some book-ending of the opening ‘get-in’ premise.

I felt the elements of ‘plot’ in this hour-long show lacked a degree of rigour and coherence. They must surely be a great addition to any alternative cabaret line-up (and they not only appear on other people’s cabarets, they run their own regular night at Bethnal Green Working Men’s Club). But how to justify the hour, that’s the question.

There are also several elements of ‘Live-Arty’ repetition, which didn’t quite turn the corner into increased interest or humour, for me. Despite these niggles, I certainly enjoyed the spirit and aesthetic of their work and will certainly be intrigued to see what they make next. And I would also most surely attend any workshop they led on creating dance routines (career tip).

Lucy McCormick: Triple Threat

It could well be that the Triple Threat here is a challenge to Sexual Modesty, Religious Reverence, and possibly Theatrical Convention. Not that it is inaccessible in its experimentalism, far from it; more like the Progressive Working Class Entertainment that Duckie aspire to create, and with whom Lucy has previously worked.

Whatever you may take from the piece, it is highly unlikely that the preoccupations you might have you entered with will remain long in your mind – it’s simply too bold, self-confident and entertaining.

The show takes the form of a recreation of the New Testament by Lucy and two beautifully sculpted male dancer/performers: ‘Artists in their own right,’ as she tells us – although this one is most definitely her show. Her faux-earnest demeanour, combined with the silly, excessive and gleefully sacrilegious material, makes this a very funny and wholly engaging experience.

The sheer force of her persona wins the audience over in the first minute, and she has us in the palm of her hand, where we remain until the final, titillating ascension to heaven. She is also – actually – a really good dancer, singer, and performer (the original meaning of the term ‘triple threat’, in a theatrical context, being a person who excels at all three skills). The piece is punctuated by a series of well-chosen pop standards, which reflect the sentiment of chapters in the story. The structural composition is finely crafted, though the intelligent design, like the industry of a duck’s legs, is hidden beneath the surface.

This was one of those shows that made me keenly interested to know the history of artist/perpetrator, Lucy McCormick, who before this almost-solo outing made a name for herself with outré experimental theatre/live art company GETINTHEBACKOFTHEVAN. Was she ‘born this way’, or did an unusual combination of experiences lead to her becoming such a ballsy, charismatic and, quite frankly, shameless exhibitionist? She gives the impression of being an X Factor contestant radicalised by subversive cultural politics. As we left I heard some people murmuring about ‘shock value’, and it certainly must have the potential to discomfort those with conservative values. But it’s too pointedly interesting and intelligent to be dismissed as simple attention-seeking.

I’d describe the whole effect of the show – including its notorious Doubting Thomas moment of revelation – as being ‘sex positive’, with the potential to help dissolve any shame one might feel about one’s sensual body and sexual proclivities – although bearing in mind that these performers are all young, fit and attractive (always easier to get your kit off if you are).

Towards the end there is a curious few moments in which she screams and writhes on the floor for long enough to suggest somewhere, deep down, the piece is expressive of some genuine pain. Or maybe it was just in preparation for the hilarious crowd-surfing finale. Either way, this is a deservedly a sell out show with the power to reverberate on a great many levels.

Lucy McCormick: Triple Threat was shortlisted for a Total Theatre Award 2016 in the Emerging Artist category.

Mamoru Iriguchi: 4D Cinema

This is a refreshingly accessible live art work that is by turns amusing, intriguing, and oddly moving. It is constructed in two halves, with the quirky charm of the first setting up a quite ingenious formal / conceptual twist that delivers us back to the starting point in a highly satisfying way.

The solo performer, Iriguchi, calling himself 4D Cinema, opens with a discussion of time travel, the fourth dimension, and the medium of film. He then straps himself into a wearable contraption whereby his face appears through a hole in the centre of a screen, above which a projector is mounted. There follows a range of amusing and well-timed sequences in which his live face and body interact with pre-recorded video to take us on an eccentric journey around the life of Marlene Dietrich.

Many of the details of Dietrich’s life turn out to be quite surprising, and there are some odd moments of singing played backwards, but these peculiarities seem to be in keeping with the quirky feel of the piece. What happens in the second half, however, reveals them to be very cleverly constructed footholds on the route back to the beginning. It’s kind of like a homemade, avant-garde thriller that first ties a weird and eccentric knot and them unravels it in ways you really weren’t expecting.

The programme notes describe the piece as exploring themes and issues around gender and representation, and one could certainly draw out rich layers of interpretation around these themes if so inclined. For me, however, the most rewarding aspect is the piece’s ability to deliver layer upon layer of complexity within the structure itself. It lulls you into thinking you’re watching an amiable nerd, before revealing that it’s a deeply considered and finely crafted exploration of the live/video format. I really can’t be more specific without ruining the surprises for those intending to see it. I can say that this is a highly original and unpretentious work that leads to an increasingly engrossing experience due to its exquisitely clever symmetry.

The Upstairs Brigade: Birthday in Suburbia

This show, by young physical theatre collective The Upstairs Brigade, all graduates of the MA in Physical Theatre at St Mary’s University, opens with a group of mysterious black hooded figures performing a dance routine. Then it quickly shifts style into a quirky and comic play set in the suburban home of a middle-aged Polish man, Stanislav, and his British family. It is his 40th birthday, and his somewhat neurotic wife has made arrangements for family and neighbours to come and celebrate. The characters are rendered as exaggerated caricatures, including two brightly sketched Polish sisters, one cold and uptight and the other giggly and carefree. There is a nerdy male neighbour and a lustful femme fatale, with whom it seems the lead character has been having an affair. It is strong ensemble playing from a talented young cast that paints a clear picture of the uptight mundanity of a suburban life. Stanislav watches with increased agitation as the nervous tension of the socially inept group increases, whilst his wife Linda prompts the group’s ‘fun’ activities.

And then the piece takes a distinctly unexpected direction as a strange woman enters the house, visible only to Stanislav and communicating to him in expressive and highly physical forms of sign language. This sudden change comes at just the right time to punctuate the narrative, creating an element of genuine mystery – in part because the nature of what she is ‘saying’ is hard to discern (for non-signing audience members). Does she represent his conscience? Or his repressed desires for a more exciting life? She is certainly a charismatic presence, and leads him literally down the toilet on a surreal and ambiguous journey, reminiscent of the ghosts in A Christmas Carol.

The set is composed of a series of sections on wheels, which are inventively rearranged by the supporting cast who re-don their black cloaks, to show this journey. But where are we going and who are those mysterious figures? Is he back in Poland at some Bohemian soiree, or somewhat inebriated amongst a group of down-and-outs? The level of ambiguity is intriguing, but sadly the performance I saw was curtailed by a power-cut and so the mystery was never revealed. The power of this production is highly dependent on the degree to which this strange journey becomes clearer, and what actually happens upon his presumed return. It certainly presents an intriguing mixture of theatrical styles performed with skill and commitment.

The Human Zoo: The Girl who Fell in Love with the Moon

Five actors in clownish makeup perform energetically in a highly theatrical mixture of exaggerated gestures and over-enunciation. They establish a premise that the troupe is travelling to Brighton to perform their (this) show. They stop off on the way to rehearse to an imaginary audience.

This second production from young collaborative company Human Zoo offers a series of cautionary tales, about individuals whose obsessions led to their tragic demise. It is highly reminiscent of Shockheaded Peter in style, yet with some of the story content brought up to date. There is a girl whose interest in the stars leads her on a quest for celebrity which ends with a psychedelic trip (I think). A man whose lust for internet information makes his head swell up into a balloon which carries him away, and the character of the title whose love for the moon… makes her seemingly disappear in a meteorite shower.

Clearly much time and attention has gone into making the show, which is also full of songs and smartly choreographed movement routines. There are moments of slapstick and puppetry alongside passages of quite dense poetic prose that suggest an ambition for philosophical profundity, which made me wonder what age range the piece is aimed at (it’s promoted ‘for all ages’).

Admittedly, I do suffer from an inverted snobbery, but the posh, squeaky accents and effervescent energy of adults seemingly playing children playing adults, felt mannered to me. However, the company are talented and industrious with a clear and well-realised vision of the style of work they want to make. Since they are dressed as clowns, more direct audience engagement might make us care more for the characters and invest in their stories. Near the end of the show one performer suggests that the tales are based on the fears and phobias of each performer, which added an extra layer of interest for me, and this intriguing idea would benefit from further elaboration.