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.

Wales Actors’ Company: Pope Head (The Secret Life of Francis Bacon)

In this one-man show, Garry Roost appears as Francis Bacon sharing tales of his life, loves and art works with the audience. I found him quite convincing as the English painter, a portrayal he inhabits with a real sense of empathy, and the script certainly delivers many insights into Bacon’s life. This particular presentation, however, was quite an effort to absorb due to aspects of the staging.With its semi-circular rows of steep-raked wooden seats and shelving, the Demonstration Hall is a charming and intimate space, but its bare walls turn it into something of an echo chamber. This means that the show’s often fast-flowing stream of words was too easily transformed into a babble, which was especially unfortunate given that Roost’s sonorous voice is his primary and most effective means of expression. In the quieter, stiller moments we get a glimpse of what the show could be like, making me think that a black-curtained studio would have provided a more appropriate venue.

The only items of set are three tall screens, used for entrances and exits into imagined spaces. They each bear the same design of three coloured circles, which, within the peeling paintwork and distressed/authentic aesthetic of the room, look like display screens for a product launch at Earl’s Court. As far as I am aware, they also have no clear relation to Francis Bacon’s artwork, and I wondered whether projected images might have helped to land and illustrate subjects of the spoken narrative.

The whole piece is also performed in a single lighting state, without any soundtrack or what could be described as a costume. This places even more demand on the vocal delivery to convey the story, making it at times seem like we were witnessing a rehearsal, delivered very directly to each of us.

Given all these aspects, I found it difficult to engage with the narrative – but I imagine some fairly basic adjustments might make it an effective and rewarding show. The performer made a powerful effort in the face of these challenges. After the show, he was selling CDs of the piece, and it left me thinking that audio drama felt like the underlying format of the production’s delivery of the text.

Smoking Apples and Dogfish: CELL

This is a technically accomplished and emotionally moving puppet show for adults and older children, which tells the story of one man’s journey into life with Motor Neurone Disease. A story based on this subject may sound like a hard sell, but the piece has a humour and inventiveness that handles the material in a considered and engaging way. It also makes ingenious use of set and props and is performed in an understated yet assured style that feels just right for this story.

We first encounter the main character, Ted, as a bunraku puppet, who speaks to us through his computer generated voice (of the kind used by Stephen Hawking). This well-made puppet is handled with care and close attention, and brought to life with some subtle and effective touches. The narrative moves back to the time where we see Ted living a gentle, solitary life, indulging in his passion for stamp-collecting stamp and having some very amusing interactions with his pet goldfish. Gradually the symptoms emerge and Ted receives his diagnosis. His response is to make the best use of his abilities whilst he still has them, and he sets off on one final adventure across Europe.

Throughout the story he shares occasional looks and gestures with the audience, which add humour and maintains our empathy. The character is also represented through elegantly made shadow puppetry, and the storytelling moves between these modes of delivery throughout. Great use is made of the minimal props, including highly amusing and inventive use of live foley sounds to augment the action. The pre-recorded soundtrack is also very atmospheric and lends the production a deeply emotional tone. At points, torchlight in used to wonderful effect in a variety of ways, particularly to depict the actual mental processes involved in the disease.

I felt there was some scope for an extra level of subtlety with aspects of the puppetry to move it to the highest level, and the story is quite slow moving at times. However these are minor quibbles, and overall I was very impressed with the sophistication and ambitious treatment of the subject, especially given the apparent youthfulness of the company. Towards the end, as the disease takes away Ted’s final capacities for movement, the puppeteers leave him in the chair, and his looks towards them as he realizes the significance of the action provides a truly moving moment. However, this is not a tragic tale; indeed it is more likely to provide the inspiration to make the best use of whatever time and capacities are available to us.

Fairy Tale Theatre: 18 & Over

I was somewhat weary and wondered as I waited whether taking a punt on this late night American puppet cabaret was a decision I would quickly regret. One hour later I was invigorated and giddy with delight, having stumbled across a performance so far up my alley it actually made me wince.

Fairy Tale Theatre: 18 and Over is a collection of original fairy tales with morals and lessons for adults, such as The Tale of the Bipolar Bear and the Co-dependent Eskimo. It is created by J. Michael Feldman and Lindsey Bowden

Using hand puppets, camp costumes and a few colourful props, the cast of six deliver consistently hilarious and wonderfully realised woodland tales that satirise human flaws and foibles. They are led by a curly haired force-of-nature, who plays the part of the sardonic narrator and most of the central characters. Like a smug 60’s Disney TV host he begins his introductions sat on a trunk in a pitch-perfect kitsch sweater, and within 15 seconds I was pretty sure I was going to love this show.

Much of the comic power comes from the super smart script, which is full of wit and whimsy but also constructs the surreal tales into proper narrative arcs that lead to satisfying endings. They also provide some actually quite insightful observations on the nature of our frailties and pretensions – whilst being really terrifically funny. The cast do great justice to the text, setting about their task with manic exuberance through very funny character voices, and briskly inventive choreography.

The first tale features two squirrels struggling to negotiate a very modern relationship in a world without rules. Then there’s the tale of Frisky and the Fag Hag, a kind of ‘what to expect from the gay scene’ for straight women, featuring cats. In the next tale a self-absorbed fly longs to put on a solo show, much to the consternation of his woodland friends, and features the truism: “Self-promotion; if I don’t do it, no-one will!” The final tale is of the horse whose envy of the unicorn, led to a fateful trip the surgery of Dr Alpaca. This is a mad, bad, sad, and sick treatise on vanity and self-loathing whose comedic climax is ‘I-can’t-quite-believe-what’s happening’ funny, and leaves the audience in a delirious frothy mess (Apparently, Unicorns, having cloven hooves, are Kosher. I will say no more than that)

The company alternate between two shows with a different set of tales, and I for one will certainly be back for more of this fantastic stuff.

Trygve Wakenshaw: Nautilus

Following the award-winning Kraken, this show delivers another helping of the same delicious dish. This is not a reference to Wakenshaw’s boyish good looks, but his singular expertise in the art of divergent thinking. Over a number of routines he elaborates simple visual starting points into highly imaginative stories using his virtuoso skills as a clown and mime. It sounds and looks simple enough, like child’s play in fact, but the hilarious results frequently lead people to ‘lose it’ to such an extent one wonders if a medic should be standing in the wings next to the fire extinguisher.

A chicken lays an egg-shaped egg timer to time himself boiling his own eggs. The egg timer hatches into a chick, which he immediately blends in a food blender. It just sounds stupid in print, but in the flesh it is delightfully funny. Wakenshaw’s extreme physical and imaginative dexterity allows him to lead the audience on ever-evolving associative journeys. The merest flicker of an expression across his face leads us to anticipate the next realm of possibilities, and these new ideas often bubble up so quickly that missing a moment can result in losing the trail. After scribbling a brief note I looked up to see him engaged in some meaningless abstract gesticulations, whilst everyone about me were laughing their head off. (Later I realized that what they were seeing was a lamb spinning his own pubic hair into a noose with which to hang a man who had stolen the suit of woollen clothes the lamb had made for himself. Oh, what’s the point in trying to describe it!)

At other times the pace slows and it is his sheer persistence in a one simple idea that brings the audience to the boil. He gives a mimed stand-up routine, with very few obvious gags, that is much funnier than many stand-up comedians. At other times he leaves us hanging just long enough in order to set up a knockout punchline, and after the lip-syncs to the song ‘You make me feel’ it seemed he had totally won us over.

Between the routines he returns to variations on an ambiguous image of himself in a spotlight, grinning and crouching like an entertainer caught escaping from prison, accompanied by a tune on the zither (?). This is the one clear element that distinguishes the show from his previous one and I’d be interested to see how he might intertwine the narrative arcs more across the length of future work. For now I was happy enough to see more of the same because this is a performer who has developed a distinctive style of work through which he expresses a real comic genius – which might one day make Trygve Wakenshaw a household name that people know how to pronounce.

Die Roten Punkte: Haus Party

This cabaret showcase is overseen by the über-amusing ‘German’ rock duo, Otto and Astrid (actually, two Australian musician-clowns) who expertly teeter on the lips of the shambolic during improvised interactions with their special guests. There are great participatory games with the audience, such as ’22 second disco’, and of course they play a selection of their hits, such as the new-wave classic ‘Get your Finger out of my Ass (I want to Sit Down)’.

As the old adage goes, ‘an accident is a gift to a clown’, and the pair fully exploit this maxim by apparently not having tried out all of their game ideas beforehand. And yet, as when Astrid gets her unravelling ‘rock sleeves’ caught up in the microphone stand, you can never be sure how much is genuine mishap and how much is expertly choreographed chaos. Either way, the clowning is so effortless and inventive that it’s all delightfully funny.

The guests on the night I went provided a good variety, including the eccentric stand-up of Paul Foot; the spectacular sight and sound of cabaret singing sensation Le Gateau Chocolat, the live art burlesque of Adrienne Truscott, and a lip-sync battle hosted by Rhys Nicholson, and featuring Kate Copstick and Aunty. The balance of well-crafted material and loose improvisation works well to keep us impressed but relaxed, making this a great late-night showcase in and a great place to end up with friends, in a wonderful venue.

Total Theatre