A double dose of drama, and some Hot Words

“Never boring for a split second” was Noel Coward’s view of Harold Pinter’s dramas: that's certainly true for Theatre Royal Bath’s new production of The Homecoming, arguably  the most Pinteresque of all this playwright's plays. Complex family relationships are revealed by conversational interaction which, whether brutal or benign, always seems banal. On a superb set (designer Liz Ashcroft) conveying in its spaciness the isolation of each inhabitant, director Jamie Glover ensures that every utterance contributes to the sense of non-connection and personal fantasy. The whole saga is brutal, physically and emotionally, yet the stylised unreality of speech with Pinter's iconic pauses and nonsequiturs ensure that it’s more intriguing than scary.All the men are steeped in their own delusions, never fully interacting, their speeches full of self-important fantasies. When these are challenged they crumple, several times literally. They don’t listen to each other, except to scoff. In reality these men are weak and seedy, and when Ruth arrives, the prism tilts. In a society more than ever concerned with gender roles, it’s interesting to surmise what Ruth’s effortless dominance signifies. Her husband’s passivity is as bizarre as her behaviour, and the unseen children are another insoluble: it’s almost as if Pinter didn't want his puzzling play to be ‘solved’ at all...

There are big names here: Mathew Horne - a million miles now from Stacey’s patient adoring Gavin - is impressive as Lenny, one of the strange sons of Max, who is well played by Keith Allen (Trainspotting), and the rest of the cast all have strings of credits. Shanaya Rafaat takes the role of Ruth, the wife who accepts her husband’s family’s offer to adopt her as a whore with the unforgettable farewell to her husband ‘Don’t become a stranger’; Ian Bartholomew is moving as Sam, the more-nearly-normal brother of Max; Geoffrey Lumb is touching as the quiet boxer and Sam Alexander plays Teddy, the homecoming brother.  The best thing I've seen on that stage for a long while. Images: Alan Henning

                                                                                                        

We move, theatrically speaking, now from the social attitudes of England in the 20th Century to those prevailing in 1782, when 133 men and women were thrown off the Zong slave ship as unwanted 'cargo' to preserve their drinking water. The radio version of The Meaning of Zong, produced by Bristol Old Vic, was broadcast on Radio 3 last year (reviewed in this blog March 28) and was both shocking and moving , but this full-stage 2-act version brought spectacular imagery and sound to the tragedy. Giles Terera, who took the role of the agitator for justice Olaudah Equiano (an actual 18th Century campaigner who was himself a stolen for slavery as a child) has been working with director Tom Morris for six years to bring this story to the stage. During that time Bristol became a hub for Black Lives Matter protests, culminating in the toppling of the Colston statue to join the bones of the many black slaves drowned there for their insurance money. As a case study of an era when black men and women were simply cargo, and their

killers were prosecuted not for murder but for an insurance scam, this is fascinating, but it's superb as theatrical performance too, shifting from spectacular displays of djembe drumming (Sediki Dembelo, music designer & performer) to dreamlike sequences under the sea, then shifting to eloquent arguments as the legal case is gathering momentum. Paul Higgins is brilliant as Granville Sharp, nearly worn out by his lonely role of opposition to the slave trade, but sharp enough to see the case through.  Jean Chan's stage & costume design enhanced every mood, with wooden planks a powerful link between the scenes whether as ship decks or menacing threats. Images @curtisrichardphotography.

Readers with particular interest in the theatre bits of this blog will find more on Plays International website here, and here 😊 

Moving on now to a group enterprise in environmental awareness:  Poets have been concerned about the damage caused by mankind to the earth's environment since at least 1820, when John Clare published Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Nature but since COP 26 this concern has become - in the southwest at least - a coordinated effort to create positive change, through raised awareness and informed action. Hot Poets is the result of a collaboration between performance poets Liv Torc and Chris Redmond, supported by a raft of institutions and individuals, and last year they produced a collection of 12 Poems About Saving the World.  Liv and Chris have now taken Hot Poets a stage further, with online workshops to create performance pieces about a chosen environmental project: this week they hosted two readings. At the session on Monday (thank you David Thompson for inviting me!) all of the sixteen poems presented were excellent: impressive in their research, compelling in their message, cleverly crafted, and moving in their delivery. 

The diversity of chosen projects was fascinating, as was the diversity of approaches to crafting a poem: 

Angela Higgs wrote from the future, 'remembering' the transformation of brown-fill sites to solar farms, while Tokoni mourned the sinking islands ('is it home when you can no longer stand on it?') and Jay Farley's marvellous combination of scientific research and clever word play actually managed to convince me that mushrooms can, or at least could, save the world... 

Music spot this week goes to the marvellous Brue River Band, who promised and delivered 'floor-filling funky blues' at the Sun Inn on Saturday - a friendly venue great for atmosphere but not for photos - and Sunday saw quite a lot of people at Rise Community Centre in  Whittox Lane chapel for a fabulous exhibition of wildlife recorded in Easthill, the most ancient of all Frome's undeveloped sites. As well as a large number of screens filled with superb images and fascinating information, there were quizzes to inform and intrigue, cakes and plants for sale, and music to enhance the mood. 

Signing off this week on a personal note: my devoted MacBook, constant companion for the last 7 years, had a heart attack on Thursday and has been dying by degrees. It's currently on a life support system - a new separate keyboard - but requires so many rests, and splutters for words so often, (eg this paragraph has taken 5 minutes) that I've had buy a replacement, on which, hopefully, normal service will eventually be resumed. Massive appreciation to David Goodman, without whose technical - and emotional - support, my MacCrisis would be still unresolved.  Off now to the Proof Pudding book club, for review-sharing and cake.

Outlook unsettled but magic still around

Let's start with a storm: the torrents sprayed wildly on the audience by wonderful Folksy Theatre  in Merlin's ECOS amphitheatre to get us all into the spirit of The Tempest on Wednesday evening. Musicians as well as actors, this endearing quintet held their audience rapt as they morphed between characters with speedy costume changes, from ethereal sprite & romantic lover to a couple of drunks, in the most impressively extreme case. 

Shakespeare was all about patron-pleasing, and while Good Queen Bess loved the vulgarity of the Merry Wives and the man-teasing of Malvolio, her 1603 successor James I didn't: he wanted magic and masques, which aren't so easy to graft into a popular rom-com. Perhaps that's why The Tempest is the bard's last play: Prospero's breaking of his magic stick is seen as symbolic of Shakespeare's decision to create no more stage dramas after this one, believed completed in 1611. Folksy's production wisely minimised the gratuitous mythical set pieces and focussed on clarifying the storyline and maximising the comedy. 

In both these aspects they did really well: Andrew Armfield was delightful as both Stephano the drunk and Ferdinand the lover (playing each with just a touch of Bertie Wooster), Ariel was enchanting and Miranda charming; Caliban as apparently an Ulsterman fresh from a brawl in his underwear was entertaining though without the poignancy sometimes found in this abused role, and Tom Hardwicke's Prospero was simply the best interpretation of this demanding role that I've yet seen anywhere. Huge credit to director Lee Hardwicke too. The audience sprawled across every level of the ECOS stones clearly loved it, and so they should: it was brilliant - well paced and full of energy and fun.  Here's Rachel Delooze as Ariel with her master, and as above as Trinculo with Stephano and Caliban (Gilchrist Muir).

While open-air theatre companies have had more chance to survive the last couple of years, problems for indoor productions have been intense and, despite some ingenious adaptations, most stage practitioners are having a really tough time. Acting For Others is the UK Actors Support Network and actor John Cragg runs a Youtube page of productions created to fund this charity for the industry. This week has the impressive addition of a zoomed reading of King Lear directed by Andrew Hilton, founder/director of the excellent Shakespeare at the Tobacco Factory company which, until he stepped down in 2017 after 18 years of high-quality productions, was always a high spot in my reviewing calendar. With a stunning cast headed by David Horovitch as the impetuous old king, this is so good that - even for nearly 3 hours - it's easy to forget that the boxed heads meet only in our shared imagination. Here's the self-deposed king at the start of his sufferings, losing his temper when reproached by his daughter and teased by his fool.

Eleanor Talbot's latest episode of Variations of a Theme has a focus on the Mind's Eye, and an interview with Pete Gage, previously best known as a fantastic keyboard player and singer - he was the voice of Dr Feelgood during the 1990s - who has now published a book of his poems and mandalas. His interview starts at 13.50 in (pausing for John Lennon's Mind Games at 26 minutes, and restarting at 37.00 -49.00) and is a fascinating account of Pete's creative sensitivity and processes, with a beautiful reading of his poem about Robert Schumann written in Bonn. Pete's readings show a sensitivity that may surprise many who know him mainly from his mega-popular blues band, and the mandalas are all quite beautiful - order from Pete here, or from Hunting Raven Books.

As we cautiously emerge into new national regulations, all balancing desire to maintain safe social barriers against the detrimental effects of isolation on our mental health, Frome's Sun Inn opened its newly-improved premises for a live gig from The Hoodoos. No dancing, seating spacey, masks worn at the bar, and the exuberance of this multitalented sextet all combined to make this one a must-do for me.  Live music is the life blood of our community, it seems, and as the long sunny evenings wane it will be hard to resist such events.

In fresh air again on Sunday for 'Open Gardens' day in Nunney village giving access to some splendid vistas: Eleanor and I travelled with Gordon Alexander and another friend to tour twelve of the superb gardens listed, choosing Midhurst as our favourite for its  layered layout, vibrant colours, and its feisty feline incumbent - but all of them really were gorgeous. Our trip was top'n'tailed with cake & tea in the church at the start, and excellent Sauvignon in The George before we headed homeward at sunset.

Concluding this week of dark clouds as well as sunshine with a look back at the Frome Festival at the start of the month, inspired by a great set of images sent me by official photographer Alan Denison - here's wonderful Liv Torc leading us off with me giggling in the background - and his fellow Frome Wessex Camera Club member, David Chedgy who caught the set-off moment of the Slavery Sedition & Sin walk around Frome, effectively led by historian David Lassman with me chipping in from time to time. 

Mormons, monsters, music... and the end of an era.

It's been going for nearly ten years now, opening in Broadway collecting nine Tonys and four Olivier best-musical awards and now it's in Bristol at the Hippodrome - the outrageous, hilarious, scurrilous, high-energy musical The Book Of Mormon. Armed with row A seats (a birthday present) and appropriate treats, my theatrical co-director Rosie Finnegan & I settled down to a couple of hours of hysterical laughter at the lines, admiration at the dance moves, and general joy at the absurdity of this tale of a couple of mismatched young missionaries setting out to convince a tribe in a remote area of Uganda that the resurrected victim of a Roman crucifixion was magically revived and returned to America to found the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and that the solution to their problems of poverty, AIDS, and local warfare is to be baptised. Luckily, as the Book of Mormon didn't sound very interesting to Elder Cunningham (the Billy Bunter in a chorus line of lush blond 'elders') he has spiced up the story with bits of Lord of the Rings & Star Wars, and the tribe fall in happily with his preaching, until... well, you get the gist, if you haven't seen it yet this production is showing until 22 February.

Next night's theatrical experience could not have been more of a contrast: Return to Heaven at  Frome's Merlin Theatre is a dance drama from the highly-acclaimed Mark Bruce Company, performing internationally but developed in Frome. This extraordinary performance achieves sensational production qualities, emerging from blackness into dramatic lighting, creating tension and emotion through strange creatures and symbolism as well as amazing movement and the powerful soundtrack. Mark has suggested the story is about a jungle expedition, and the programme clarifies that this journey is non-linear and open to interpretation: there's a taster of the hypnotic mood, strange symbolism and dark beauty of the performance in the trailer here. Image Nicole Guarino

A group of the audience remained at the Merlin afterwards and were joined by many others for a vigil on the ECOS stones until nearly midnight - where better to mourn the passing of our national integrity than standing within these great monoliths, each donated by the founding countries of the EU back in 1989 to create our unique amphitheatre and celebrate union with the concepts and ideals of shared identity. Chris Watson of Magic Eye videod the event, which unexpectedly hit the Guardian front page. This was my eye-view as the singing of Ode for Joy, in German, which marked the saddest moment.

We might want to stop the world and get off, but at least there's still music... a strong double-act entertained the Grain Bar Root Session audience on Wednesday as singer-songwriter Ben Hardy-Philips, performing with William Tate, followed by a set from Fly Yeti Fly. This delightful duo live on a barge in Wiltshire with a dog who goes wild at the full moon: they watch otters, and fireflies, and these & other shared glimpses of their life combine with their excellent songs and stories to enhance their performance - a great role-model for all guests, and a really lovely event.

The usual Saturday evening clash of great music in several pubs means, sadly, I can offer no report of the ever-excellent Valley at the Cornerhouse, but the HooDoos lit up the night at the Sun Inn with their quirky style, classy singing & playing, and superb audience rapport - despite cramped space and a large pillar, which explains why this image doesn't include all six brilliant band members.

Ending this bulletin with a timeless image: Roddenbury Hillfort, with sunshine splashing the thick carpet of beech leaves on Sunday. This relic from the iron age, part of the original Selwood forest, seems to have a strange quality of silence and peace.