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.

CollettivO CineticO: XD

XD is an emoticon that represents a smiley face, and smiling is something it’s hard not to do throughout this absurd piece of performance art style dance. Four dancers in various states of nudity set up boxes of props either side of the stage as we take our seats. One of them is completely naked apart from three red Adidas ‘go faster stripes’ taped onto his bare legs. A stopwatch round the neck of a Superman-pants-wearing gent is used to signal the beginning of the piece.

Over the next half-hour the quartet create a variety of frames on the floor – white LX tape, yellow skalectrix, chalk, metal – in which they recreate images from manga comics, pornography, advertising and fashion. Movement derives from the aspirational, consumer-driven society that permeates our every move, with three men in pants modelling their abs and pouty faces. The only woman onstage is covered in a white T-shirt with an X where the face should be. Head covered, she bounds around her box, sharp movements battering at the edges. Is she stuck here, or happy to bounce back and forth in this bubble?

There aren’t many answers given in the piece, rather it’s a series of vignettes strung together. One lingering image is of the Superman-pants boy donning a cape and flinging himself into the arms of the other men ready to fly away. It’s all a lot of fun, although I’m not quite sure what the collective wants us to walk away with.

Junction 25: Anoesis

Junction 25 is a young people’s performance company that puts young people’s voices firmly into the centre of contemporary performance. For their 2013 Edinburgh show, they’ve created a piece of interactive work which sits close to my heart having made a piece about a very similar subject matter: success, failure and how we are set up to achieve (or not as the case may be). The show was co-devised (with the young performers) and directed by Jess Thorpe and Tashi Gore of Glas(s) Performance.

We’re seated in two long rows in front of oversized 30-metre long school desks with a wide galley between us. Our names are called out and we diligently put our hands up: ‘Here!’ If anyone’s not quite loud or emphatic enough they are asked to repeat themselves. The fourteen-strong cast are all dressed in white shirts and black trousers, with some personality thrown into the shoes whether it’s Nikes or Doc Martins. An hour-long (mock) exam follows– we have a full-on exam paper in front of us, and the first three questions we’re asked to answer are genuinely terrifying.

We meet the young people involved in dribs and drabs, often through report-card style overviews. Lily is often late and needs to concentrate more; Jack needs to improve or he’s not going to succeed… An audience member takes part in the multiple-choice exercise entitled ‘Who wants to be a successful human being’ in which she has lifelines that include: Google, calling the Samaritans, or asking a mate. Section B of the exam requires us to write an essay based on a picture of a maze, before one young girl is picked out for admitting she’s cheated and subjected to a humiliating walk of shame with a sign that reads ‘Must try harder’.

Interspersed between the test and report cards are lovingly created movement sequences that lift the show out of the classroom and into our hearts. A line of paper stars is hung across the space and the desks at which we sit become catwalk-like runways for the ensemble to race each other, walk a tightrope, hug, hold hands, and cartwheel. It’s a gentle and honestly performed musing on the realities of school-life from the fun to the friendship to the stresses and loneliness. Elsewhere, the gang push themselves forward up and down the gangway in the centre of the room. Slowly one falls, followed by another. The rest power on through as another falls and picks themselves up again. We’re all in the race of life, and sometimes we fall behind.

One of the cast reads a letter he wrote to the Cabinet Secretary for Lifelong Learning asking questions like “Why can some raise their voices and others can’t?’ He had received a reply, but you’ll have to go see the show to find out what they made of it. Despite the piece feeling like a massive critique of an education system that asks people to conform and learn without knowing why they’re learning, Junction 25 finish with a sweet and uplifting ending as the previously wayward Jack figures out what he is good at – it’s an ending that lifts the heart and reminds us that we can find our own way in spite of the stifling systems that govern how we are valued.

Chris Dobrowolski: All Roads Lead to Rome

What a pleasure it is to spend an hour in the company of Christopher Dobrowolski. There was a small group of us for his hour-long PowerPoint journey, and this intimacy felt like a classic festival find; a secret performance just for us…

Dobrowolski’s car sits outside the Hunt and Darton cafe – a 1967 Triumph Herald Estate, and the subject of All Roads Lead to Rome. The car is older than Dobrowolski himself – his father bought it as soon as his mother became pregnant with him – and he shows us the pictures to prove it. He’s attached to this car, to the idea of it having grown up with him, his brother and his parents. Last year he began fixing it up and had the idea to trace its roots. And so, with a little bit of cash from the Arts Council (part of the PowerPoint!) he and his girlfriend headed to Rome in the Triumph to track down the son of the maker of said car.

As in all good road-movies, the journey takes on a life of its own, veering off-course to reveal fresh insights into Dobrowolski’s relationship with his father. It allows him to retrace steps his father took whilst fighting in World War Two, including an ‘encounter’ with Mussolini. Turns out his dad was in the square in which Mussolini was hung, which now plays host to a variety of shops dedicated to fascist memorabilia and knick-knacks. And so Dubrowolski’s gentle tale suddenly finds itself intertwined in a reflection on war, men, children, fascism and how we relate to what’s come before us.

Much like his fascinating installations (two of which are on show in the bar next door), the performance has been lovingly pieced together photograph by photograph, word by word and home-movie by home-movie – resulting in a warm and cosy hour of simple but affecting storytelling.

Stefan Sing & Cristiano Castadio: Tangram

A line of white juggling balls cuts the stage in two. A light comes up on a barefooted dancer in a short black dress, her limbs whirling in frantic circles before fading out. Another spotlight picks up a man in a black suit delicately moving an imaginary juggling ball around his body. Accomplished ballerina Cristiano Castadio and expert juggler Stefan Sing have joined forces to create Tangram, a fascinating and beautifully performed duet about relationships developed through dance and juggling.

The piece explores flirting, falling in love and the push and pull of power within a couple. The juggling balls act as a catalyst for intrigue in each other. Stefan begins to entice Cristiano and an incredibly delicate and playful exchange of balls unfurls. Following an exchange of the white balls in and around the line with flicks of feet and swipes of shoulders, the wall dividing the pair is broken. What ensues is a series of choreographic responses to coupledom. One duet sees Cristiano as a puppet, being whirled round the stage based on Stefan’s whim and fancy. Her limbs drop and jerk with impressive precision, her face pasted with a glassy stare. The sequence is a wonderful showcase for her incredible flexibility.

Elsewhere Cristiano holds the reins, with Stefan chasing her around the stage, gallantly trying to please her. The piece is engaging, funny and always impressive. Cristiano is a fantastic dancer and a joy to watch. The quality of her dancing is urgent and visceral – you can see the sinews of each muscle pulsate with each movement. Equally impressive is Stefan’s performance as both juggler and dancer. The choreography the pair has created in response to the movement of juggling is surprising and fun, whilst his juggling gets increasingly demanding and eye-poppingly impressive – Tangram is an inspiring piece of circus-dance.

Theatre O: The Secret Agent

Theatre O are leaders in interdisciplinary, physical theatre. Co-artistic directors Joseph Alford and Carolina Valdes have toured nationally and internationally with their bold and innovative productions. For their first performance at the Traverse they have collaborated with playwright Matthew Hurt to interpret Joseph Conrad’s novel The Secret Agent, the resulting show a co-production with the Young Vic. It’s a dark story of espionage, betrayal and terrorism and the company have located us in a music hall world of luscious costumes, white faces and gothic architecture to tell us their tale.

The music hall setting kicks everything off – we’re in the Cabinet of Desires where Verloc, a sly showman tells us that what we are about to see is ourselves and our secret desires. His wife, Winnie (played by Valdes) is revealed behind a curtain. She slinks into the audience and asks an audience member if he is into sexual gadgets, before being curtained off again then appearing blindfolded asking another gentlemen if the helpless turn him on.

It’s a wry, exciting and dark opening that whets the appetite. Unfortunately, the following hour and forty-five minutes (one problem is the length) lacks the clarity and humour of this scene. The story at the heart of the piece is messily delivered, often confusing and somewhat underwhelming. The most dramatic incidents are skirted over instead of dramatised, leaving long scenes of domesticity in their place. It’s frequently unclear as to why the social upheaval is happening and difficult to grasp what the company want to say with this piece.

The imagery is often arresting. Anna Watson’s lighting design beautifully accentuates Eva Vilamintjana’s precise and urgent choreography. The ensemble work their socks off, in particular Leander Deeney who transforms between a hilarious and ostentatious Vladimir and the victim at the heart of the piece, a stuttering young lad called Stevie. In the final scenes of despair Valdes as Winnie portrays the devastation, anger and hurt of her betrayal with visceral tension. If the whole piece could sustain this sense of purpose it would be a knockout.

Total Theatre