Show: Nuclear War
Society: London (professional shows)
Venue: Jerwood Theatre Upstairs
Credits: Simon Stephens. Text developed with Actors Touring Company
Type: Sardines
Author: Chris Abbott
Performance Date: 24/04/2017
Nuclear War
Chris Abbott | 25 Apr 2017 08:17am
As we enter the Theatre Upstairs at the Royal Court we find ourselves in a square pink room with a variety of chairs on all 4 sides and several actors clutching tea-cups and grouped around a table lamp in the central space. Warned to expect extended darkness and loud music, and to put our belongings under the seat as the actors will come very close to us, it feels faintly foreboding although in the event none of these factors is at all disturbing.
Nuclear War is described by its author Simon Stephens as a “text for dance” and the piece is directed by choreographer and movement director Imogen Knight. It tells of a day in the life of a London woman, although the link between this and the title is elusive, and the author’s introduction to the text gives us no assistance: “I don’t want to talk about themes or content or any meaning,” he writes, “I will leave that interpretation to everybody else.” Well, this is the Royal Court after all and that won’t be a problem for this audience, who listened respectfully and responded enthusiastically if uncertainly on occasions.
As the piece develops, we realise the text is being spoken sometimes as voice over and sometimes live, and often with an effectively ominous under-scoring. Lead performer Maureen Beattie, a vastly experienced actor, leads the ensemble with confidence, her spoken voice helping us through these confusing events. Around her, Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Gerrome Miller, Beatrice Scirocchi and Andrew Sheridan form a mutating, enabling and choric accompaniment, the “perhaps others” listed in the text as performing alongside the woman.
The sudden movements in unison, perhaps to catch a cup or move the simple day-to-day props, are often striking and we are also aware of actions happening in the liminal areas in the corners of the room, with audience members leaning forward to see these. Lighting states constantly change, often in unison with the text, so that we move from darkness to blinding light, for example, as the central character talks about leaving the Tube and emerging into daylight.
The chorus sometimes change into faceless creatures, black-hooded or stocking-masked, but still essentially caring for and supporting the woman rather than threatening her. Technically this is a tour-de-force of sound and lighting and it is therefore paradoxical that the piece ends with all the onstage technology being unplugged and the central figure planting a tree in a pile of debris, perhaps to begin anew after a catastrophic event.
A production that would be at home at the Edinburgh Fringe then but with better production values? No, it is more than that; there is something unforgettable here about the conjunction of text, sound and movement which is genuinely new. The short 45mins performance passes quickly (and it would have been good to have had a second part of the evening perhaps with some of the songs for which Stephens has written lyrics published in the same text) and provides the audience with much to think about on their own London journey home.
- : admin
- : 24/04/2017