Author Archives: Terry O'Donovan

About Terry O'Donovan

Terry is a performer and director. He is the Co-Artistic Director of Dante or Die and one quarter of new company Toot.

Coil 13 Winter Festival

In New York City the New Year ushers in a wave of imaginative, thought-provoking and adventurous theatre in the form of Coil Winter Festival. Curated by one of the leading lights of the total theatre experience Stateside, PS122, it is an ambitious, two-week long festival showcasing the work of performance artists, dance companies and boundary pushing theatre-makers from New York and across the US, alongside a handful of international works.

2013 is the festival’s eighth year, and it seems to be thriving. Artistic Director Vallejo Gantner has enlisted ten venues in three New York City boroughs to co-present, co-commission and support the development of most of the works presented. There are four world premieres and three US premieres, and Gantner emphasises the importance to him of the collaborative and nurturing role he has played in putting the festival together with the artists and the venues. ‘I feel like I’m in the middle of a 21st Century moment of what being a presenter is,’ he says, referring to the cross-pollination of the roles of producer, curator, advisor and co-presenter of new performance. His method seems to be resonating with New Yorkers, who have made the opening performances a complete sell-out – even attracting the likes of Michael Stipe for Radiohole’s Inflatable Frankenstein, an irreverent and opaque response to the Frankenstein legend putting the Creature centre-stage.

A technologically impressive performance, the show is overflowing with sound and projection from microphones, computers, iPhones attached to the performers’ wrists and iPads hanging in plastic cases. It’s a cacophonous experience, with the six-strong ensemble reading moments from Mary Shelley’s celebrated book in unison, projecting a talking head onto the bald head of their Frankenstein and cooking up the ingredients for the creature’s brain as if they were Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsey. Although Jamie probably wouldn’t dump the gloppy pink results on his head, letting it hilariously drip down bit by bit, and continue as if nothing is out of the ordinary whatsoever.

Radiohole are a regular fixture in Coil, and PS122 has co-commissioned this piece, in collaboration with The Kitchen. The collective’s credits include working with artists such as The Wooster Group, Richard Foreman, Ron Athey and Goat Island, all of which is evident in the work. Most successful is the opening ten minutes in which the performers, all dressed in over-the-top faux period style costumes, sit for a post-show discussion on the show we have yet to see. ‘Leading experts now estimate that show business is currently 90% hype and 10% bullshit,’ our newly recruited host announces, before telling us that Radiohole do not need any of this hype, such is the immensity of their performance. Interrupting each other, and passing the microphone in order to be heard, it’s a sharply scripted and humourous take on themselves as purveyors of ‘important’ theatrical artwork. The rest of the show could do with a little more of this knowingness to elevate it to the ‘genuine article’ it is described as.

Across town in Queens, the charming Chocolate Factory (who produce quite the opposite of London’s venue of the same name) has teamed up with PS122 to co-commission a new piece of work from writer-performer Kristen Kosmos. There There is a laugh-out-loud funny meditation on language, performance and the struggles and contradictions of life. Christopher Walken has mysteriously fallen off a ladder and cannot perform his solo performance about Solyony, the fool from Checkhov’s Three Sisters. Dwarfed by a high red wall filled with paintings of po-faced men of the military, Kosmos gallantly, if nervously, steps into Walken’s role, aided by Larissa Tokmakova, an elegant, slightly intimidating Russian translator.

It’s a fast-paced, densely written dual-monologue reminiscent of Martin Crimp’s work, with Kosmos flitting between different moments from ‘the play’, jumping out of ‘character’ here and there to muse on her own life, and sparring with Tokmakova for power over the audience who are seated in traverse. Both Kosmos and Tokmakova are subtle yet magnetic performers. The English and Russian babble along in harmony, arrestingly drawing attention to the moments when only one language is present. The most memorable are those when Kosmos appeals to us one by one, desperately staring into our eyes trying to figure out love, responsibility and guilt.

Next weekend, The Chocolate Factory’s artistic director Brian Rogers remounts his recently created new piece, Hot Box, in the space. It sounds a fascinating, uncomfortable and compelling proposition: Rogers exercises to excess, then drinks to excess, then invites an audience to witness in ‘quiet, sustained, focused, and organised’ video how that affects a person.

Elsewhere the festival has an array of delectable theatrical nuggets to taste. Like There There, Half Straddle and Tina Satter have also been influenced by Chekhov. Seagull (Thinking of You) takes a look at performance, failure and attempted love by channeling The Seagull, with a Russian folk metal-influenced score to boot. In Ruff, Peggy Shaw examines what it’s like to have holes in your memory, drawing on the stroke she recently suffered. And if you have room for more there are performances from Croatia, Austria and France, alongside a range of dance and theatre work. ‘Coil is not just a festival presenting popular shows,’ says Gantner, ‘it’s something much greater than that – we’re taking risks and inviting audiences to see brand new work.’ The risks seem to be paying off: the shows are selling out and, despite not having a venue as it’s being rebuilt, PS122 and Coil’s reputation is growing steadily. Not content with ruling New York, Gantner will present work in Brazil this year and France in 2014, having curated a PS122 season at London’s Chelsea Theatre a couple of years ago. If you’re lucky enough to be in the city be sure to immerse yourself in the sea of theatrical experiments about to take place. And find out where the parties are – they should be just as good.

PS122’s Coil Winter Festival runs 3-19 January 2013 at venues around New York. For more information see here.

Punchdrunk: Sleep No More

Punchdrunk certainly have electrified the Manhattan scene. Since opening Sleep No More in collaboration with Emursive (an elusive production company) in spring 2011, the company has been drawing audiences night after night for a dose of their trademark immersive theatrical experience in which audiences don a white mask and explore sprawling landscapes.

This piece is inspired by Macbeth, although you’d be hard pressed to figure that out unless you’ve read the programme notes beforehand. The show is set in the McKittrick Hotel in Chelsea – supposedly a former hotel, but obviously a massive warehouse. Whilst rifling through some paper I came across a headed sheet with the address of the McKittrick Hotel stating it was in Scotland… All in a film noir, 1950s setting.

That aside, Punchdrunk’s reputation as pioneers of incredibly designed installation sets remains triumphant here. Dimly lit throughout, Felix Barrett, Livi Vaughan and Beatrice Minns have created a beautiful and haunting playground across four floors of this massive building. One is constantly amazed by the detail of the set pieces, some of which remain emblazoned in my mind: a small room with headless dolls floating above an empty crib, halls full of white bathtubs and small beds, a soundproofed room with black and white feathers jutting from the walls. One room that I had the fortune to explore by myself was jam-packed with herbs that filled my brain with exotic aromas, whilst other areas offered peat or stone to walk on. It is a sensory delight.

The joy and, concurrently, the frustration of the piece is that you are free to roam as you please. I bumped into a young woman crushing medicines together before forcing a pregnant woman to drink the concoction, a man and woman dressing and undressing each other, flinging themselves into each other’s arms (and a full bath) before melodramatically abandoning each other, and one of Maxine Doyle’s repetitive lustful duets between a bartender and his sexy object of affection. Audience members raced after the performers (all extremely able, and convincing throughout), knocking bystanders to the side to ensure getting a piece of the action.

Having experienced previous Punchdrunk performances, I tended to go the opposite direction to the hustle and bustle. Sometimes this paid off – I wandered into the grand ballroom utterly alone, which sent shivers down my spine. I could leisurely investigate the contents of drawers and closets to my heart’s content. Not that it led to much knowledge being shared with me. And there’s the rub. For all of Punchdrunk’s incredible attention to detail, the experience never goes beyond frivolous, voyeuristic fun. Sure, it’s exciting for a performer to lead you by the hand and race down a dark corridor, or to be pushed out of the way during an aggressive duet between what might be Macbeth and Macduff. It’s very enjoyable to listen to fabulous 50s music whilst wandering through a forest of eerie trees or a crumbling graveyard with gravel under your feet. But I yearned for more: to be moved, to be enlightened, to care. As it stands, Sleep No More is no more than a beautifully created playground where the people of New York can recklessly revel for a few hours before continuing the party in the bar.

www.punchdrunk.org.uk

Kneehigh: Midnight’s Pumpkin

This time last year I was blown away by Kneehigh’s collaboration with Little Angel Theatre on their production A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings. It was one of the best pieces of theatre I’d seen all year and a perfect antidote to many underwhelming Christmas offerings out there.

So with a hop and a skip I bounded into the Grand Hall ready to be blown away by the company’s retelling of the classic Cinderella tale. Told in the round, they have created a gig-like atmosphere for their interpretation of a panto complete with slutty Ugly Sisters and a dame in the form of electric guitar-wielding James Traherne.

Cinderella is called Midnight, but apart from that the story is pretty much the same as ever. There is a chorus of amusing mice to help her on her journey to woo the prince and a giant Pumpkin watching over her. It’s all a lot of messy fun, and the performers seem to be having a whale of a time with slapstick routines, teaching line dancing routines to an audience who have dressed themselves up during the first of two intervals in Kneehigh’s dressing-up shed, and generally cavorting unabashedly for the two-plus hours. In particular, Phil Brodie, as the conceited Prince, steals the show (although I’m not sure Midnight would actually fall for the very unlovable character he hilariously depicts).

What’s missing is the Kneehigh attention to detail, and the magical and moving imagery that sets them apart as leaders of the physical theatre world. It’s not until near the very end when Midnight returns to dance with the prince that we get a taste of this. Here, Audrey Brisson’s Midnight dances a mesmerising hoop routine dressed in a beautiful midnight blue dress, captivating both the prince and us.

A few more of these moments and a good third of the show edited out and we’d have a Christmas cracker on our hands. As it stands the songs are overlong, the choreography underdeveloped, and, despite committed and comical performances, the show left me cold. Still, it’s hard not to have fun, but I’d recommend holding out to the New Year when A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings opens for two weeks at BAC – that’s where you’ll find the magic.

www.kneehigh.co.uk

Slung Low: 59 Minutes to Save Christmas

Slung Low has been developing curious, amusing and ambitious work over the last few years, pioneering the use of sound technology. This new piece, their first for children, sees them employ their trademark headphones to bring audiences aged seven plus on an adventure around the foyer areas of the Barbican, in a quest to save Christmas from a supposedly evil professor hell bent on ruining the festivities.

Having donned our headsets we hear the sounds of our hero, Jack (in a nod to panto tradition he is played by a woman), calling out ‘Goosey’. Our heads turn 360 degrees searching out the performer we can hear so clearly. This technique is one of the magical elements of this gorgeously conceived and warmly performed journey. A golf cart that’s been kitted out Christmas-style drives towards us, a Christmas tree zooms in and out of a corridor, and a mini train with a life of its own spurts the evil pink smoke down the stairs, on the balcony above our heads and far into the distance, each time taking us by surprise.

As the audience is addressed by the commander of the Royal Christmas Brigade, we learn that it will be our jobs to help Jack save Christmas. We do this by ‘Christmas creeping’ around the Barbican (right hand behind your head jingling your fingers with left hand straight out), where we bump into an elf who has been programmed to break toys instead of make them, a snowman who has forgotten all his Christmas songs, and a fairy on top of a giant Christmas tree who doesn’t think she’s beautiful anymore.

Where the traditional pantos and Christmas shows across the land invite us to empathise with our hero or heroine, Slung Low has created a performance in which we are the heroes. We make Christmas decorations to cheer up the Christmas tree fairy and reprogramme the elf, sing Jingle Bells as an impromptu choir and work together for an hour to make the show happen. Whilst highly impressive in style, the heart of the work is rooted firmly in Christmas entertainment tradition – it’s like an interactive cross between The Wizard of Oz and Jack and the Beanstalk.

The company does not shy away from an old school message, firmly reminding us that Christmas is about family, love and cherishing the great things you have around you. This juxtaposition of incredibly complex staging, utilising state of the art technology to tell a simple and quite old-fashioned story results in its triumph. It is a joyous and charming piece of work that should become part of Britain’s theatrical Christmas tradition.

www.slunglow.macmate.me

Tanztheater Wuppertal / Pina Bausch: Der Fensterputzer (The Window Washer)

I don’t remember a time when I smiled more during a theatrical experience than watching Der Fensterputzer. Originally premiered in February 1997, Der Fensterputzer boasts one of Bausch and long-time design collaborator Peter Pabst’s iconic images: a mountain of heaped red flowers piled twenty feet into the air. It provides a wonderfully inventive, funny and moving landscape as dancers ski down it, pick snakes out from amongst the petals, and fling the blossoms into the air in wondrous abandonment.

The window-washer of the title appears from time to time, nonchalantly going about his business of washing the windows of the high-rises of Hong Kong. Below him a sea of people enact moments of life as they search for ways of pleasing themselves or others, and desperately attempt to replay those moments of ecstasy and intimacy that define us.

Dizzying and beautiful solos rooted in the everyday are scattered amongst hilarious audience interactions, monologues or set-pieces. A man frenziedly tries to please a woman by getting her anything she wants. Soon, he is trying to please the audience, running at high speed to get them the object of their desire offstage. A husky-voiced vixen of a woman narrates her love affair with a man whose breath smells whilst sucking on a cornetto. Two women slowly undress a man as he tries to get past their security gate. A man sets himself hanging upside down and transports water from one bucket to another with a tiny cup, only to have the bucket emptied and begin again.

The evening is littered with futile actions, accompanied by a dizzying and disparate range of musical influences from jazz by Dizzy Gillespie to Chinese drumming and Romanian Gypsy music. The entire evening is delightful and light – so much lighter than much of Bausch’s work. Whilst exploring the futility of everyday life, Bausch has created a work that also celebrates it. Yes, we ski down mountains and play ridiculous games such as badminton. Yes, we all make love, and cheat on each other and drive ourselves a little bit mad by doing the little things that make us content. We should add flinging flowers into the air with gay abandon into our lives from time to time as well – it looks, and, I suspect, feels glorious.

Total Theatre