Cindy Marcolina - Page 34

In historian Orlando Figes’ debut play, Flaubert’s friends Ivan Turgenev, Émile Zola, and George Sand urge him to either strip down his writing to please the masses or get a temporary job to fend off his creditors. The Oyster Problem debuts at Jermyn Street Theatre directed by Philip Wilson in a stiff and stuffy production. 

The production makes a farce of geopolitical tensions and falls short in satire. It over-delivers its cheap gags and over-engages in silly audience interaction.

Is Britain a functioning meritocracy? Many try to argue that it is, but research states otherwise. Upstart Theatre urge the audience to take matters into their own hands by playing The Learning Lottery, a “fast-paced, high-stakes game show” that determines the future of three children.

The importance and beauty of some productions extend beyond what the audience see on stage. Residue was born after two years of creative workshops for victims of domestic and sexual abuse. It’s about the women who shared their experiences, but so much more too. Verity Richards and Izzy Kabban deliver a piece that’s as heart-wrenching in its origin as it is heartwarming in its spirit. 

A masturbatory look at an infuriating lack of communication. 

The one created by Leeza Jessie, Xavier De Santos, Samuel De La Torre, Alice Barton, Sofia Velez, and composer John Baggott is an astonishingly strange show, which wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t so… well, meaninglessly weird.

'Hi, would you do me the honour of spitting in this cup for me?' asks the gorgeous person in lingerie as you step through the door.

A frustratingly capricious script shaped into a disturbingly sexy, impressive production.

The singularity of souls, how coincidence and circumstances change the course of a life, the idiosyncratic relationship we create with specific people, they all come together with refined technique and deft use of language. It’s a gem of a play. 

It’s a heavy topic, and the company bear the weight of it throughout. MOLKA is commendable for its avant-garde approach to the subject, which has the vice of a Tate Modern performance art piece more than a straight play. While it gets slightly lost in its stylistic choices and fails to provide a map for the audience to navigate its symbolism, it’s a diamond in the rough.

It’s meant to be a satirical look at our obsession with our online personas versus the reality behind the screen, but - like everyone’s day-to-day life - it’s just a little too mundane. Bickel-Barlow succeeds in showing the fickleness, fakeness, and absolute inconsequence of social media, but has a lukewarm reaction. It’s an interesting experiment, but it unfortunately doesn’t really work.

Part TED Talk, part memorial to the lives lost due to racially motivated brutality, and part plea for change, Tajah’s piece is as educational as historically relevant. While it might not be perfect, it should be mandatory viewing, especially in schools. Like his character says: “Education is our best hope”.

Danishman highlights the complex relationship between identity and the necessity of a certain political affiliation. It's not a cheerful show, but it's a rewarding one. 

Quadruple (at a minimum) threat Sam Hooper and composer Robert Tripolino write a scrumptiously macabre play that defies genres and styles. It’s a bleak and uniquely intoxicating cocktail of provocation and allure topped with a cheeky splash of sacrilege. A playful, sophisticated sadism permeates the production until - believe it or not - the narrative turns even more Stygian.

Dian Cathal details the standardised reactionary clichés people fall into when faced with death. He is honest about his guilt and perfectly presents the numb resignation of someone whose exhaustion has taken over. After his mum passes of cancer three years after the ten predicted months, his dad dies of a broken heart and his brother Brian kills himself. It’s a lot. Everything he says is authentic and truthful and absolutely relatable. But there’s nothing more.

A snapshot of class divide that doubles as a melancholic love letter to the city.

It becomes more and more evident that we don’t need the traditional conventions displayed at the beginning. While these are probably meant as a visual juxtaposition against the minimalist, more blunt and hands-on approach of the climax, the start is unnecessary. It nearly drives the show to the ground before it’s even started.

Remi Rachuba moved to Glasgow from Poland in the late 90s to pursue his dreams and become an actor. A bright young man with stars in his eyes, he learns swear words at his teaching job in a special needs school. Mugged twice, he’s left severely traumatised. He constantly looks behind his shoulder for his “intruder”.

Some shows are great even when everything goes wrong. Some shows shine through missed cues, nerves, line prompts, and failing tech. Some shows are simply excellent trainwrecks. Simon David’s Dead Dad Show is one of those. With a personality the size of a football stadium and the effortlessness of a consummate entertainer, he saves his own piece. It could have all gone so very wrong, but it didn’t.

There are some shows that fit perfectly within the walls of The Vaults. Magic is made when old bricks and humidity meet the right production. Expial Atrocious’ Butchered is one of those that feel at home enveloped by the horrid architecture and the rumblings of Waterloo Station. The love child of Sweeney Todd and Hannibal, it’s a grim look at life and death in a dog-eat-dog world.