Author Archives: Tara Boland

About Tara Boland

A London based performer and theatre-maker working mainly in devised theatre and interactive performance, Tara has also worked extensively with children and young people as a workshop facilitator, director and writer and is interested in theatre for the young at heart, immersive theatre and theatre clown. She has performed at numerous venues, including BAC and The Old Vic Tunnels, and is currently training full-time in Lecoq method at the London International School of Performing Arts.

Wet Picnic: Death and Gardening

Death is an unavoidable presence in our lives. I tend to find that when approaching such large subjects one can be overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of thoughts, ideas, stories and feelings. In Death and Gardening Wet Picnic have chosen to tell a relatively straightforward story in treating the topic, and this is a good approach: to take a macrocosmic subject and translate it for our microscopic understanding. However, at times it feels that the ideas underpinning the story are a little undercooked.

We are greeted by three yellow-blazered ladies who go on to slip between playing different roles throughout; all have lovely stage presence and great comic characters. They are the gatekeepers of death and look at the topic subjectively – it’s their job. They find much absurd comedy here, which is wonderful to watch. Our central character, David Fanshaw, is also very likeable: his gawky physicality and endearing naivety make him the perfect protagonist to play against the real main character, death itself, yet it is this character that seems somewhat underdeveloped. The presence of death is never really felt with intensity; the shadow that it casts over everything in life, no matter how comic or likeable, is just not quite dark enough.

Death is a deep and philosophical part of human existence, and although comedy is surely needed to break this weighty matter and also to highlight the hilarity of our mortality, it sometimes feels that this piece deals with the comic element far more skilfully than it is able to deal with the tragic. Parody is a strong tool in looking at something serious, but an excellent grasp and understanding of the subject is needed before one can begin to parody. There are moments where the seriousness of the sadness that surrounds death are touched upon, with monologues from David Fanshaw’s loved ones, but unfortunately these just don’t quite reach far enough down into the depths to make the comedy a relief in its contrast.

Wet Picnic are a very talented ensemble of performers; they create beautiful characters, have excellent movement quality and a slick set to match. I am keen to see where they go next. The attention to detail that they give in their performances is lovely to watch; perhaps a longer look at detailing the subject underneath would allow them to create something truly gripping and engaging.

Idle Motion: Borges and I

If you don’t know anything about the work and life of Jorge Luis Borges, don’t worry, neither did I. Idle Motion weave his life, and more specifically his loss of sight in later life, into a beautiful visual narrative combining words, fantasy worlds, love and biography.

Beginning with an introduction to the South American author in the form of a failing power point presentation, the ensemble break into the tale of this man’s interesting life, introducing as well the parallel storyline of a young woman named Sophie. There is so much in this piece, jam-packed with precision puppetry, slick movement, projection and beautiful stage craft, that it is a wonder how the company have managed to generate so much material. At times, I wonder if two shows could have been made here instead of one – nevertheless, this is an inspiring piece of theatre.

Sophie’s story is one of a young woman who loves to read, finds love and in turn loses her sight in the same way that Borges did – an affliction that denies them both the beautiful luxury of literature. Borges’ life is narrated and played out alongside Sophie’s, creating a nice balance between biographical narrative and the emotional investment we feel in Sophie’s character. This company have stage skill in bucket loads: every tiny detail has been considered and carefully crafted; the performances of all are engaging, funny and endearing; and the visuals generated by ensemble movement and object manipulation are delightful. This really is a very talented young company. Their subject matter is certainly interesting and I felt inspired to learn more about Borges. My one slight niggle (and it really was slight – I had a wonderful time at this show) was that the company are perhaps trying to do too much. I hungered for a little more time spent with the fabulous objects and images that they created – perhaps a more mature confidence in their imagery would allow for this. As I mentioned, there were at least two shows worth of material in this piece: the track of blindness and sight could have been a standalone storyline in a piece of sparkling visual theatre, contrasting the simple and enticing images with the dwindling vision of a protagonist. The story of Borges himself is fascinating and well worth telling and some lovely methods of narrating such a man’s story were found. Overall this is a very well crafted, clever and beautiful piece of work that comes highly recommended.

I am certain that with time and further confidence this company have the capacity to carve out their own unique and groundbreaking style of theatre. They have oodles of talent and no end of arresting images; it is perhaps a question of allowing some of these images to breathe and delving into them one at a time. I shall be following with interest.

Snuff Box Theatre: Bitch Boxer

This is a man’s world, and any woman looking to claim otherwise should prepare themselves for a fight and even the surly tarnish of being called a bitch. Bitch Boxer is here to show us that a girl with hope, ambition and drive has nothing to apologise for.

The unfaltering, jaw-dropping, heart-thumping performance from an undoubtedly rising star in Holly Augustine (Chloe), and shatteringly precise and evocative text from Charlotte Josephine, drew me immediately into the world of our protagonist. Chloe is a Leytonstone girl with the tantalisingly touchable dream of participating in the London 2012 Olympics as one of the first ever women to compete in boxing at an Olympic level. This work is testament to the power of simple skilful storytelling: the way in which this one woman can paint her world so perfectly is a wonder. Augustine moves between her portrayal of Chloe to impersonating her coach, father, mother and boyfriend with such ease and fantastic timing that the audience are truly made to feel part of Chloe’s world. Her performance is arrestingly open, endearing and energetic and a true pleasure to watch, both funny and heart-wrenching, without ever pushing too hard.

In such high energy solo performance an audience is often made to think how hard it must be for the performer: how hard to remember this monologue, to keep pace, to maintain an audience’s attention for so long. Not once did any of these thoughts cross my mind as the fifty minutes of this piece flew by. So engaged and lost was I in Chloe’s story of fighting, losing and loving that I forgot I was watching an actress and invested entirely in the fate of our heroine. Augustine owns the text completely; even when it veers smoothly into more poetic language she is never ill at ease. The deeply layered writing, which manages to create an entirely three-dimensional central character, and to splice natural speech and dialogue with moments of poetic prowess, is a brilliant piece of work from a talented young writer.

It is also often the case that when a piece delivers social comment – because let’s not ignore the fact we are talking about an incredibly important landmark for all women here, a symbolic and physical victory in the fight for equality – story and theatrical skill can sometimes be skimped on in favour of presenting fact. Not here. The skilful writing and detailing of our main character, allowing her to breathe fully as a real woman, one who loves, who hates, who swears and fights, makes the piece a truly magnificent theatrical achievement. Here is a show that delivers big punches on every front – great writing with magical timing, comedy and pathos in equal measure, and a delivery in Augustine’s performance that can only be described as perfection.

Eric Davis: Red Bastard

As we intrepidly await the arrival of Red Bastard, who bulges menacingly behind the curtain, slipping skinny and slippery fingers through the cracks, we are accompanied by the soundtrack of ‘Come Together’, an all-too-apt overture. The impressive physical presence of Eric Davis’ bouffon comes with an enchanting level of energy and a perfectly pitched charming attack. He soon proclaims that we ‘are all here together’ in this ‘theatre of life’ – one of the many simple and honest truths that Red Bastard exults in during this seventy minutes of eye-opening, heart-racing, breath-taking performance. I say performance as this is what we expect whenever we walk into a theatrical venue. We expect to see, to watch, to look at a performance and to absorb its qualities and inevitably judge its merits. This dark and provocative bouffon is here to challenge that convention. He stoically proclaims at one point, upon hearing a defiant moan from a woman in the audience (there a quite a few of these, actively encouraged by Red Bastard), that the artist should always be creating for others, and not for themselves, and this is what is at the heart of this piece. Red Bastard enthuses that the most amazing thing about theatre is that it is the only artform where the audience is present whilst the art is being created, where we are all together and complicit in this creation, and it is here, in this act, that we must be reminded of the audience’s importance.

Don’t be fooled into believing that you will be welcomed with open arms into this space, gently encouraged to think about your role as an audience, and cooed over with affirmations of how amazing you are. You will be kicked, slapped and poked up the rear end, but it will be the most generous kick up the rear end that you will ever receive. Some have said the approach to awakening an audience is too much, too intense, too, too… aggressive. I disagree; for me the attention that is given in this piece to the audience demonstrates a burning passion and obvious care for who this audience is and what they are looking for. The show hinges almost entirely upon audience interaction, yet the craft with which our Red Bastard alerts us to the fact that we are all also part of this piece, as well as part of life, encouraging us not to be spectators, but partakers, in every avenue of our being, is both skilful, hilarious and poetic.

Due note should be given to the intricate physicality of this performer: his slithering, undulating movement; the precise placement of the each digit and limb; and his magnificently bulbous whole body mask. The creation of this bouffon is marvellous, and it might be interesting to ponder here what role the bouffon plays in this context. Eric Davis creates an extreme, outrageous and ridiculous persona in Red Bastard, in order to provoke, to shock, to seduce? Or perhaps even to mirror? Does the audience need this monster in order to realise how extreme, outrageous and ridiculous their own lives of petty denials and self absorbed misery may be? (We are made to question our own pathetic dreams, laziness and lack of attack throughout.) Perhaps, or perhaps I am over Romanticising, but I don’t care, because Red Bastard told me to do exactly what I liked, so I will!

I can say little more other than go and see this if you can. If you don’t like audience ‘participation’ then perhaps think about giving it a miss, although I’m sure Red Bastard would say if you don’t like audience participation, then perhaps consider giving everything a miss!

Harry Giles: Class Act

Harry Giles is an emerging performance artist whose work covers poetry, live art and performance, and whose pieces often make direct and specific social comment and analysis.

Describing himself on his website as a performance maker whose work falls somewhere under the ever expanding umbrella of live art, Giles states that he ‘takes a subject he is angry or confused about and makes a performance to understand it better’. It is perhaps here that I sometimes run into conflict with some of the work encountered in the live art world: the personal is made public, and with an artist’s opinion at the centre of a work, and the artist themselves present, it can sometimes be hard for the public to find a space in which to place their own thoughts and feelings. Giles attempts to combat this with interactive games and activities that all revolve around a physicalisation of sociological research, from paying our rent with sweets to dressing Harry up as a member of a specific social group. The direct transposition of good work equalling monetary value is given with the reward of sweets for every game won or act carried out correctly. Whilst I am made to feel very ‘active’ as an audience member, I am also made to consider the difference between action and interaction.

There is an obvious and huge amount of research in this work, which is interesting and educational, yet I find myself questioning the definition of this piece. A teacher once told me that art is the friction between form and feeling. Whilst art is often informed by very technical and in-depth research, it is when a small leap is made into abstraction that it tends to create the biggest impact. Harry uses a powerpoint presentation to guide us through his musings and games, encouraging us to fully understand his findings, and taking Class Act as an educational piece, I was fully engaged. I enjoyed myself and was interested in the subject, but there is something about being spoon-fed information and facts rather than being presented with a space in which I might develop my own thoughts on a subject that seems more informative than artistic. I am not questioning Harry’s intentions; he is endearing and obviously passionate about his subject. However, his methods to evoke interest could perhaps be further developed. To elevate thinking, as Harry hopes, we surely need a larger amount of self-governance and self-realisation, rather than being told what is good and what is bad, yet Harry seems to spell this out. The finale sees us being handed a card that gives us only three options for what we will do after seeing this piece; to organise a meeting to discuss class issues, to attend the next protest / march on workers issues, or to join the Worker’s Union – not a very self-directed outcome.

I must say, though, that I think this piece would work immensely well as a ‘performance lecture’, either in schools or universities. To push education in a more provocative and artistic direction is definitely interesting, yet to push art in a more informative and educational one is, perhaps, less so.

Total Theatre