Author Archives: Dorothy Max Prior

About Dorothy Max Prior

Dorothy Max Prior is the editor of Total Theatre Magazine, and is also a performer, writer, dramaturg and choreographer/director working in theatre, dance, installation and outdoor arts. Much of her work is sited in public spaces or in venues other than regular theatres. She also writes essays and stories, some of which are published and some of which languish in bottom drawers – and she teaches drama, dance and creative non-fiction writing. www.dorothymaxprior.com

Big Daddy Meets His Match

It was a chance remark from a friend that started me thinking. We were discussing the dilemma for contemporary ‘liberal’ parents in choosing whether to send children to private school or to throw them to the sharks of state education in the inner London boroughs, and this somehow moved on to a discussion about the number of people in positions of power in theatre who have been educated in the public school system. (And if there is anyone reading this who lives outside the UK I should explain that ‘public school’ in England refers to a network of respected private schools, as opposed to ‘state schools’ which are for everyone – or everyone else, perhaps, is a better way to put it!)

So is this really the case? That we are ruled by the same elite that make up the majority of politicians, the ‘privately educated’? Even in ‘alternative’ theatre? Apparently so. It was something I hadn’t really thought about previously, but a few minutes of conversation on the subject brings forth the realisation that many of our bastions of non-conformity are run by men (and it is mostly men) of a certain class and education. Perhaps it is something to do with the fact that to be a successful producer, venue director, or booker, it helps to have some sort of financial stability to fall back on, otherwise how on earth could you forge a path in this precarious business?

Of course artists also take enormous financial risks all the time – just look at Edinburgh, awash with theatre-makers who have poured their meagre savings into hiring a venue, then spend all day flyering in the rain to bolster audience numbers – and it could be argued that although it is painful to witness this terrible drain of money, it is still the case that taking a show to Edinburgh as either artist or producer is a privileged option, and perhaps goes some way towards explaining why the Edinburgh-in-August demographic is so resolutely ‘white middle-class’.

What is clear in Edinburgh is that someone other than the artists is making the money. Every single spare room in every single available building – from university lecture halls and student union bars to freemason lodges and community centres – is requisitioned for the month of August, hastily turned into a ‘venue’ and rented out at an exorbitant cost.

Some artists have, in past and recent years, decided to try to do something about this, and to provide an alternative model. Famously, the Aurora Nova festival-within-the festival, set up by performer/director Wolfgang Hoffman with the support of the Brighton-based Komedia Productions, offered Edinburgh something rather different: a venue that provided the opportunity for larger-scale ensemble companies from all over the world (mostly those making physical and visual performance) to bring work to the Fringe. And the collective ethos of the venture meant that everyone was expected to muck in with the cleaning and caring of the space; there were shared meals daily; and all takings from the venue were split between companies, so those doing well at the box office shared their winnings with those doing less well. It all lasted for a good run of around seven years, then was no more.

In more recent years, we’ve seen the arrival of Forest Fringe, which is based at the Forest Café, a year-round community-led space, but which also spills out onto the streets and into other public spaces, offering artists the opportunity to present work for just a day or two, even just a one-off performance, or to ‘scratch’ new work – all very much against the usual Fringe model of the month-long run which you build by constant flyering and desperately courting journalists for high-starred reviews. Forest Fringe took the decision to step outside of the Fringe Society completely, with none of their activities listed in the official brochure (which has become a monstrous telephone directory-sized publication that is too heavy to carry around with you in any case!). Forest Fringe also break the mould by offering many of their events free or on a pay-what-you-want basis.

This year saw the arrival of another new venture – Summerhall – which I’ve mentioned a few times in my Edinburgh blogs: homed in the former veterinary college buildings of the University of Edinburgh; a warren of lecture halls, dissecting rooms, studies, halls, and stairways that have been cleared of their remnants (animal and otherwise) and converted into the temporary home for a group of companies, at the heart of which were Zecora Ura whose all-night adventure Hotel Medea was the most talked-about show of the festival, winning a Herald Angel and being shortlisted for a Total Theatre Award (and I’ll put my cards on the table and say that in my opinion it really should have won a Total Theatre Award!). Summerhall has been a haven for most of the festival, although personally I’ve found that the arrival in the last week of the copious number of events as part of the BAC programme and the numerous short-stay British Council Showcase presentations has changed the vibe considerably at the venue.

Well, I say ‘venue’ but at a discussion held at Summerhall last week, its co-founder/supporter Richard Demarco was insistent that it wasn’t a ‘venue’, it was something far more: intended as a year-round school/laboratory/place of theatrical investigation where ambitions projects such as Hotel Medea, and the 25-strong student ensemble that created Traumatikon, could be hosted, and where artists could be in residence to develop their work. Yes, fair enough… although I would like to point out that as things currently stand, Summerhall is a ‘venue’ for the Fringe, nothing more yet, and although a wonderful initiative, there are other supportive venues offering an interesting range of work, including work from overseas companies, such as Remarkable Arts at St George’s West/ Hill Street, strongly featured on the Total Theatre Awards shortlist with shows such as Audience, Leo, and White Rabbit, Red Rabbit; and Universal Arts at New Town Theatre, who presented Total Theatre Award winning shows Turandot and Sailing On.

The discussion also flagged up the fact that so few Edinburgh artists were involved in the Fringe – but although some good points were made here, I felt a little uncomfortable with the disparaging tone towards Edinburgh’s artistic community, with the implication that there wasn’t really a lot going on year-round. I found myself wondering why none of the renowned ‘beyond August’ Edinburgh-based artists, companies, and festivals were there to defend their territory. Where, for example, were the Manipulate Festival of Visual Theatre (who last winter programmed 1927’s The Animals and Children Took To The Streets, long before it came to the Fringe)? What about Chloë Dear, producer with Iron-Oxide, who works year-round to present Scottish-made circus, physical theatre, and street arts work? Richard Medrington from the acclaimed Puppet State, who also works with the Scottish Storytelling Centre? What about The Arches – Glasgow-based but presenting work in Edinburgh? Or Arches-supported artists Al Seed and the Total Theatre Award winning Adrian Howells, both of whom were presenting work in this Fringe? New Territories, again Glasgow-based but with a knowledge of the Scottish scene? And where were Jon Morgan and the Made in Scotland team? Had any of these people been invited to take part, and if not – why not? It seems extraordinary that none were there, leading me to suspect that they perhaps weren’t invited? I was keen to raise this point at the discussion but sadly the event was so poorly chaired that the only people whose voices we were allowed to hear were the Big Daddies: those older men of a certain class and bearing who were used to dominating discussions. A woman festival producer from Beirut was asked to offer her view of Edinburgh – then was interrupted and patronised when she spoke. It was all too, too awful.

Which brings us back to this dominance in theatre of what someone I know calls ‘The Society of Bald Old Men’. They are everywhere, and their dominance is rarely challenged.

But that is not the whole story…

There are women movers and shakers in contemporary theatre/performance, and they should be heralded. For a start, let’s hear it for producer Jo Crowley who has been taking care of and championing both 1927 and Hotel Medea for all of August, and year-round looks after the likes of Kazuko Hohki and Ridiculusmus! The aforementioned Chloë Dear too; and let’s note that within the street arts and outdoor performance network (which is, in its very nature, a more egalitarian world) there are numerous strong female voices, including Anne Tucker from Manchester International Arts, and Maggie Clarke of X.trax. Back indoors, there are of course such luminaries as Rose Fenton and Lucy Neal, co-founders of the London International Festival of Theatre (LIFT), still going strong after all these years; and Jude Kelly, currently director of the Southbank Centre. In the live art field, there is New Territories director Nikki Milican; Lois Keidan, co-founder/director of the Live Art Development Agency; and the posse of gorgeous women who run Home Live Art. Then, there is the wonderful Helen Lannaghan, co-director (with Joseph Seelig) of the London International Mime Festival, and co-founder, three decades ago, of Total Theatre (or Mime Action Group, as it was called then).

And we really can’t forget Judith Knight – co-founder of Arts Admin, and longterm nurturer of extraordinary artistic talent, with a roster of artists under her wing that includes Curious, Bobby Baker, Geraldine Pilgrim, Lemn Sissay, Ann Bean, Stationhouse Opera, Chris Goode, Rajni Shah, and La Ribot.

It was therefore wonderful that Judith Knight was chosen to receive the Total Theatre Award for a significant contribution to theatre. There have been no female recipients of this Award for many, many years (I can, off the top of my head, only think of Nola Rae and Monica Pagneux as female previous recipients, and they were both a very long time ago), which on one level seems extraordinary, but considering the dominance of those theatre patriarchs, perhaps not so surprising.

So congratulations Judith… good to see Big Daddy wrestled to the ground for a change!

Look Left Look Right: You Once Said Yes

Ever had the sort of day where you just set off down the street with no agenda, and find yourself talking to all sorts of strange (in all senses of that word) people, and losing yourself in all sorts of odd, interesting, and sometimes hair-raising situations? Look Left Look Right use this rather lovely starting point to create You Once Said Yes, a one-on-one theatre show set in the streets, cathedrals, bingo halls, graveyards, and bars of Edinburgh.

Audience/participants set off at ten-minute intervals, so are always alone – at least, alone until met by a succession of characters, some of whom are seemingly under the mistaken impression that they know you – ‘Hey, Max!’ they call across the street, beckoning you over and embroiling you in some complicated story that you are apparently part of – whilst in other cases, you are treated as a chance encounter; someone who has just happened upon them, or crossed their path.

It is the latter premise that works far better. The hits for me are Coco, the lady clown who needs help carrying her balloons across the Royal Mile; Ben, the completely believable stockbroker-turned-gardener who offers you tea from a flask as you stroll amongst the graves; Tom, the homeless man, who plays the jerkily nervous beggar with a terrible past with such wonderful authenticity that you leave him blinking back the tears; and Emily, a café worker who just starts chatting to you casually when you enter St Giles Cathedral. Less successful are the more ‘theatrical’ moments: a car heist story; an appearance at a law court; an invitation to buy into a deal to convert a scuzzy bingo hall into a lush strip club, although I did love the opportunity to go into the bingo hall on a rainy Friday afternoon, and to encounter a posse of real-life characters so extraordinary that you almost suspected they were company plants (floozy lady bingo players in pink nylon; hard-faced grans on the one-armed bandits; a wheezing man in stained trousers defiantly smoking in the hall). In these latter cases, it is not so much the slightly hammy larger-than-life performances (I can live with that!) but the fact that it just doesn’t ring true, no matter how readily you suspend disbelief, that you could possibly be the person they think you are.

But this gripe aside, it really is a very lovely piece: the Edinburgh sites chosen are a varied and interesting mix; the research has been done thoroughly, and this research translated cleverly to performative situations; the route has been planned meticulously, so that ‘accidents’ are unlikely. Unlike other works of this kind, the audience is really looked out for throughout the journey, the transfers from one performer’s zone to another’s really carefully handled, and the ‘what if’ moments catered for (we are issued with a fluorescent orange rucksack that contains, amongst other things, a mobile phone and an envelope that states ‘only open in an emergency’, so we know that we have help at the end of a phone should we need it). I also like the idea that each person’s experience will be, of course, completely subjective, and will be enjoyed in very different ways – I mean, wearing a red nose and helping a clown make balloon animals felt quite normal to me, as did flirting with a young lady with butterfly eyelashes over a glass of wine – and being dressed head-to-toe in charity shop garb is hardly an unusual occurrence in my book! But I don’t usually get into cars with strange young men…

Look Left Look Right describe themselves as a ‘documentary theatre company’ who create work that starts with recording conversations with people about significant incidences in their lives. Previous Edinburgh success Caravan(2007) took the English floods of 2005-2006 as its subject, and Counted?explored the 2010 elections. You Once Said Yes is a great new addition to the company’s repertoire, and of course will be different wherever it is played, so a constantly renewing work. And despite my longstanding relationship with Edinburgh, which I’ve been visiting for over decade, I was taken to little corners of the city that I hadn’t visited before, so feel thankful for that experience.

www.lookleftlookright.com

Quarantine: Entitled

Let’s hear it for the technicians, those anonymous, uncredited foot soldiers of the performing arts who, dressed in black, with bowed heads, put in the cables, the leads, the woofers, the tweeters, the mixing desk, the amp, the mics, the floods, the cans, the spots… Quarantine’s Entitled puts the technicians centrestage, using the usually hidden choreography that creates the performance environment as the subject of the show.

It is, I suspect, a ‘Marmite’ show. Taking the form of a get-in, then a get-out, it invites a love-it or hate-it response. I hated it. I could try to temper this very raw subjective response, but let’s get that response out of the way upfront! As someone who does get-ins and get-outs all the time, I just despaired of what I was witnessing, and failed to understand why anyone would think this would make interesting viewing. Apart from any other criticism, it was pseudo-realistic rather than realistic – and I found that even more irritating than the basic concept. By the time they got round to putting down the dancefloor, I had my head in my hands. When it reached the point where I realised that the get-in was going to be followed immediately by the get-out, I was close to despair.

In situations like this, I start to imagine how I’d feel if I invited someone who was intelligent and open-minded, but unversed in contemporary performance trends, out to see this work. What would it tell them about ‘performance’ as an artform? I think Entitled would confirm many people’s prejudices of ‘performance’ as a forum for self-indulgence. What, I wonder, is the purpose in creating work that that can only be read by people versed in the form? There’s a smug knowingness to it that makes me itchy with irritation.

That said, if you take away all of the above – the physical/visual narrative of the get-in/get-out – there is another, interweaved ‘offstage’ story not about objects but about the people who perform: the musicians and the dancers (and indeed technicians) who have lives beyond the limits of the footlights. I enjoyed some of the (presumably) autobiographical-confessional texts reflecting on the role of the dancer/musician/technician, the balancing of home and work lives, and the dictats of body image, abilities, and ageing. This, I felt, was a far more interesting line of theatrical enquiry than the ‘play’ around the soundcheck and tech run and whatever (which, in any case, I think was explored more successfully, and with more wit and vim, by Forced Entertainment in Bloody Mess).

I should add here that I have enjoyed Quarantine’s work immensely in the past, and indeed that I saw this show on the same day as I went to the Quarantine installation The Soldier’s Song, also presented at Summerhall, which is as beautiful and moving a work as I could have hoped to witness…

www.qtine.com

ShadyJane: Sailing On

Somewhere in between ‘missing’ and ‘presumed drowned’ is – what? The limbo of the ladies’ loos, that’s what. So here we are, six of us (ladies and gents, the gents looking somewhere in-between embarrassed and intrigued), and as always there’s a queue, with two of three cubicles occupied – one by Virginia Woolf, and one by Ophelia. Well, of course.

ShadyJane plug every single water analogy they can get away with in this clever little show that is, for once, completely appropriately sited outside a theatre space. It’s set in a toilet and that’s where it needs to be! So the core story is that here, lurking out of sight most of the time, live our two victims of watery death, the intellectual Virginia and the emotional Ophelia, kind of washed up through the sewer system from the rivers in which they perished to this new home, the ladies loo, which they haunt in a Harry Potter Moaning Myrtle sort of way (there’s even a book that disappears into the bog!).

And the ladies’ loo is the place that women come to think, and to sob, and to share secrets, and to wash away the tears – so they are there to comment, and sometimes to confront, those who share their space – and occasionally, someone comes by who can benefit from their cathartic presence. The ‘someone’ who happens by whilst we are there is a young woman called Romola who is burdened with a submerged (oops) story of a suicidal mother drowned at sea, the drowning witnessed from the end of the pier by Romola as a young child.

All this we learn in a fragmented narrative that emerges through a series of living pictures created in the cubicles, mirrors or sinks – a hanging raincoat, a handful of floating rose petals, an abandoned red glove, a cascade of water, a suicide note written in lipstick – and through films and projections (of rippling water; of the well-dressed mother fiddling with her red gloves; of the view from the end of the pier, in gorgeous Kodachrome colour) that are played onto walls and ceilings.

Once Romola’s story is resolved (a little clunkily with a block of spoken text that summarises everything we’ve learnt through other means in a rather unnecessary way, as in: ‘my mother committed suicide when I was…’ etc, etc), she scrubs up, fixes the smudged mascara, and departs – and our two ghostly presences revert to form, with Ophelia’s cubicle transformed into a bower of roses; and Virginia settled down on her loo with a good book.

It’s an ambitious show, but ShadyJane, for all their youth, live up to the challenges they’ve set themselves. The dramaturgy is, for the most part, sound; the multimedia aspects are well integrated; the design a united aesthetic that shows an awareness of the power of scenography to drive a piece; the use of object animation well-integrated, with a lovely ‘puppetesque’ quality to the whole work; and there are strong performances from the three-woman team.

All-in-all, a very commendable show, a worthy winner of the Total Theatre Award for an Emerging Company.

www.shadyjane.co.uk

East End Cabaret: The Revolution Will Be Sexual

Femme fatale Bernadette Byrne and half-man, half-woman Victor-Victoria are here to ‘educate and entertain the masses’ with a heady mix of sex, gin, and communism. Their feisty and ferociously funny cabaret show pulls together an enticing mix of self-penned tunes and covers of whatever takes their fancy or, as they put, it ‘shamelessly appropriated tunes from Brecht to Britney’, all mixed and mulched into a fizz of frenzied skits and turns that manage to be simultaneously sexy and a satirical debunking of our sexualised culture.

Victor-Victoria (or Victy as s/he is known) is a talented multi-instrumentalist who keeps the music flowing, moving from keyboards to accordion to musical saw with ease; and Bernadette sings her little heart out, pausing only to entertain us with an impression of ping-pong-ball-popping from, er, intimate places; or to tell a sorry tale of a hot-wax S&M session gone wrong; or to haul a poor innocent young man out from the audience to quiz on his fantasies of an ideal date with the diva herself.

In this sketch, Victor-Victoria plays the jealous lover adroitly (‘I’m Just a Jealous Guy’) with a series of put-downs muttered sarcastically in retort to Bernadette’s questions and the poor lad’s responses (Bernadette: ‘You seem very young.’ Young man: ‘Er, yeah.’ Victy: ‘He’s about 12.’ Then: ‘So what do you do?’ ‘I’m a student.’ ‘Of course you are!’ And then: ‘Of what?’ ‘English Literature.’ ‘Oh, he can read!’). And not only are the audience brought to the stage, the stage goes to the audience: Bernadette flinging herself with gay abandon into the arms of a man third-row-from-the-back (see, you are not safe just because you didn’t sit in the front row!) with a cry of ‘my yoga guru!’ – the ‘guru’ then serenaded with a madcap musical saw version of Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’.

And so it goes, one saucy interlude or salacious song leading seamlessly to the next – and should anyone be feeling that they might stray from the path of licentiousness, then the Little Red Book is here to help them back onto the path of sin…

It is of course all a delicious construct: Bernadette and her erstwhile lover Victy are assumed characters, but the pretence is carried through all of the duet’s public-facing activities (performances, PR, website) with meticulous care and attention to detail.

Thus, we learn on the website how ‘a mysterious incident involving her music teacher, a Bruce Springsteen song and a piece of percussion triggered some drastic physical changes in the teenaged Victoria’s appearance’ and that Bernadette ‘bought a one-way ticket to Europe the day they graduated from high school, and left in the dead of night [acquiring] many friends who were lovers, and lovers who were friends, willing to stand her a drink or two in return for a quick plink-plonk on her ukulele’. All marvellous stuff…

And apart from their immeasurable musical cabaret talents, the two artistes look absolutely fabulous. Valiant Victy carries off her sexual ambivalence with panache, and Beautiful Bernadette looks a bit like David Hoyle does Louise Brooks: all eyelashes, bob, and luscious lips.

A very seductive mix indeed! And at just 45 minutes long, a show that scurries by chock-a-block as it is with witty and well-executed vignettes. A success, a grand success!

East End Cabaret