Six Degrees of Separation

A chance pair of free matinee tickets saw me and a friend skipping our way to the Old Vic for front row seats to Six Degrees of Separation. John Guare's play charts the appearance of one Paul Poitier, a charming young black man who insinuates himself into the company of rich Upper East Siders in New York, pretending to know their children at Harvard. Winning over various families, he stays with them without actually stealing from them or behaving in any kind of dubious manner... unless one considers having gay sex in their homes dubious. 


On discovering this bad behaviour, one couple, Ouisa and Flan Kittredge, are outraged. What if Paul had stabbed them in the night? What if he had robbed them? How dare he trick them? But of course, by then he's fled. So we embark on the journey of the Kittredges to track down this imposter in their midst, who turns out not to be Sidney Poitier's son at all. All the while, Paul slowly begins to weave counter-factual stories about his place in their lives. Their friends and children and children's friends are brought into the equation. Has Paul actually really done anything wrong, in aspiring to share in the lives and successes of people he does not know? If the title holds true, and he is only separated from everyone else on earth by only six degrees, why shouldn't he attempt to better himself? 


A good script goes a long way; here was no exception, and the delivery was, to my ears, spot on. There was that polished confidence to the players that left me a half-second behind, in awe, enjoying every twist and turn of the dialogue. When Paul (Obi Abili) starts to monologue on his thesis, a piece on Catcher in the Rye, I couldn't help but feel a little bit, well, emotional. After all, Salinger only passed away less than a week before I saw the show, which made the speech even more poignant, but it's also concerning not just the text itself, but how that book was taken as a symbol for violent rebellion by so many dysfunctional young men. After we learn that Paul is not in fact what he's claimed to be, the parallel between Holden and his 'phonies' and Paul could not really be clearer. Is Paul what he pretends to be? Or is just another person playing at a role? He accuses Ouisa of not being truly happy, and we see how his thesis, his challenge, rings true for many of the characters in the drama. We cannot be sure to what extent we've been watching real lives and not just the poses that people strike for each other.


The Kittredges, so much the centre of the drama, were played by the ever-at-ease Anthony Head and Lesley Manville. They share an excellent chemistry on stage that was heightened both by their overlapping dialogue and by the later realisation provided as to how little they might in fact know each other. Despite that, they rely entirely on one another. Swift, fluid costume changes and a beautiful hemispherical set also enhanced their poise and style. The set worked particularly well as a means for intensifying the drama while also not distracting from the action on stage. As it peeled open, just as more and more characters joined the play, the action seemed to blossom. As the focus returned at the close to Paul, Flan and Ouisa, so too the set closed up. It was a simple, yet very intense, effect to employ, and one that worked in my view.


I suppose it wouldn't be a review without at least the shortest of mentions of the gay sex. After all, you get to see two fully naked men romping on a sofa. That in itself didn't bother me - it's theatre, isn't it? But just to add a bit of spice to the drama, the audience members directly behind me happened to express their shock in rather loud terms. When Paul says "That's enough for now", we heard loudly "Thank God" from over our shoulders. I couldn't help but grin. Perhaps the matinee crowd weren't quite ready for Guare. Let's hope they don't stumble upon some Kane any time soon. For their own sakes.


~~~
2010
Obi Abili, Anthony Head, Lesley Manville
by John Guare
dir. David Grindley, design Jonathan Fensom

Scenes From Communal Living

Sketch improvised comedy. I think that's the best way of considering this hybrid. If you're not familiar with the concept, it works thusly: it's standard improvised comedy, drawing upon the audience to get a scene started with an idea for a location / happening / event / conflict / other thing. But the twist comes from the stage; every scene is supposed to be set in a flat share, so we are to witness, in actuality, a scene from communal living. Do you see what they did they?

It's a great breed of improvised comedy, setting up only two parameters (flatshare & idea from audience). The cast rotates, both between Sunday night gigs, and during the show between who comes in to do a scene. They even take turns compering between scenes, encouraging the audience to be inventive and challenge their scenes.

From the first scene (a call-centre worker telling her flatmate about her promotion - with a deliciously softly-spoken American artist played by Partridge) I realised the idea had subtle depth to it, beyond other standard improvised shows. Because the actors aren't exactly playing a game, they're not rushing to score points over each other, each scene was longer than what one might expect from an improv show, and given far more time to develop some sort of plot. That was where I marvelled at the technique of the night. Time after time, a scene might be slowing fading away, but a character could revitalise it in a moment with a sudden announcement, disagreement or even just a sigh and a shrug. Rather than a scene of one part, charging in at the start and building and rushing to some sort of final punch, instead I watched as a comic tapestry was weaved before my eyes, with ups and downs, a veritable pulse, that to me was even more enjoyable than the humour contained.

Partridge's artist was fantastic, but so was his World of Warcraft playing hardman; Parris dazzled, confidently moving between accents and seeming to do no wrong on stage. Meanwhile Broderick, Smallman and Fostekew (and I do so hope I've got the names right) all were on top form too. A Polish woman terrified of racism and a touching scene about growing little goats between Carly and Jess both stick in the memory. Parris and Broderick's final scene, the show closer, about discussing an unexpected event at a party the night before (this time, morris dancing, of all things), was both tender and hilarious. I suppose one could argue morris dancing is itself comedy gold. I'd be tempted to say it was the actors' technique that brought that about.

McCure's master plan is to make something branded, a show that can be packaged up and put on anywhere. He's already had a successful run in Sidney alongside the London run that closes on 20th December, but he aims next year to put together Melbourne and Toronto Scenes From Communal Living. It's a bold ambition, but when it works, as it did last Sunday, it's hilarious to watch.

***

22 November 2009, The Etcetera Theatre, Camden

performed byRachel Parris, Charlie Partridge, Rob Broderick, Carly Smallman, Jessica Fostekew

dir. & conceived by Stewart McCure

Annie Get Your Gun

A sad fact we all have to deal with: musical theatre has embraced Lloyd-Webber. But seeing Irving Berlin's Annie Get Your Gun restored my faith a measure in the 'musical' genre and reminded me that when music, dance, story, lighting and acting all come together successfully, you have sure-fire entertainment on your hands.

The musical traces the life of Annie Oakley (Jane Horrocks), a small-time crackshot who starts touring the States showing off her shooting, and becomes so successful she even tours Europe. But running parallel with her success are her attempts to win over Frank Butler (Julian Ovenden), a rival gunslinger who takes her under his wing but quickly comes to resent her natural ability and showmanship (showwomanship? showomanship?). As Annie becomes more and more of a hit, Frank withdraws his affections from her; the drama builds towards a final confrontation, where Annie must decide between her reputation as a sharpshooter and her love for Frank.

Horrocks and Ovenden were both on top form: Annie was dopey without being idiotic, and sarcastic without being cynical; Frank meanwhile lived up to his playboy reputation as he swaggered about the stage exuding charm and style. But there was also tenderness in both their performances, and They Say It's Wonderful stayed in my head for days after viewing. It was an onstage chemistry that drew in the audience and captivated.

Of course, something must be said for the staging. Once again, part of the charm of seeing this production was its setting, as the stage of the Young Vic was transformed into a saloon bar, with four pianos at the base of the stage. All the music was provided by these pianos, thrillingly played live. A couple of simple tricks and a sparse setting transformed the stage to a backstage set, a train, a boat and even a swish New York apartment. It was simplicity that further empowered the spirited performances from the ensemble. Annie's lullaby to Jessie, with hums and howls from the Native Americans, was especially touching.

And musically? Well, I mentioned the pianos, but really the clincher was the fact that this isn't Lloyd Webber. The songs have a depth and beauty that far exceeds more recent musicals, and it was truly a pleasure to be lifted by such melodies and transported far beyond my seat in the third row. It's the fact that the songs are not structured so conventionally as to be tedious. The refrains may repeat, but they are never repetitive. Indeed, the repeated structures just affirmed a level of care in Berlin's composition that was thrilling and complemented by the coherence of the production.

I wondered about Sitting Bull and Jessie's performances, the former for being too stilted, the latter for being clumsy, but I think it is too much to judge too fiercely. They hardly marred the performance as a whole for me.

A great afternoon's entertainment.

***

2009

Jane Horrocks, Julian Ovenden

by Irving Berlin

dir. Richard Jones