Unforeseen - War Stories

I'd seen Unforeseen - War Stories advertised and the idea of forum theatre interested me greatly, particularly with the exchange that was going to be taking place between AZ Theatre in London and Theatre For Everybody (TFE) in Gaza.

I'd assumed it would be an improv session that bounced back and forth over Skype. It turns out, not. Which now, thinking about the regular power cuts in Gaza seemed a bit of a foolish assumption. The piece began with a series of still images depicting words we associate with war: dislocation, realising, resisting and so on. Director Jonathan Chadwick then picked apart the still images, describing how they had arrived at their artistic decisions, what story each tableau was telling. He then proceeded to invite the audience to change the things that suggested war in each tableau to instead suggest peace; smiling faces, dancing and togetherness. I am sure that I understand the message that Jonathan was trying to get across but to many in the audience, the first part of the performance was more a dissection of theatre than a dissection of war. It seemed self-indulgent and inappropriate. Although in a 2 day workshop - what more did we expect?

The second part of the piece moved to readings of an email exchange between Jonathan and Gazan health professionals. The emails began to satisfy the feeling we'd been missing I think. It described rumours of multi-drug resistance in Gazans, and a quest seeking powerful evidence to support such claims. Amidst the exchange came stats like, 90% of the water supply in Gaza is undrinkable, which began to arm me with the facts I thought I'd find more of throughout the evening. The emails only went so far though and we are yet to hear of any conclusive findings but it's good to know there is at least an avenue of conversation across the globe between those who care enough to try and prove these public health rumours.

The third part was perhaps the reason many of us had travelled, some from Leeds, to Rich Mix, to hear the work of the theatre group in Gaza and to join them in conversation. 

Each of the young Gazans had written a poem about war and peace and performed it to camera. Filmmaker Hazem Alabyad had then edited them together with war-filled images that directly contradicted the beauty of their words. He said, 'I wanted the message of hope to be as strong as the message of war'. And I think we saw that, not just in the poems but in our conversation with them.

The poems were intimately about peace, about their lives, about their dreams. You can watch the videos here:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqzurFteRe9-rR0Ijt7NldkYJxE1NKYQi

The Q&A

aztheatre.org.uk

Questions began a little timidly amidst a luddite audience fearing Skype initiated communication, but the first question finally arrived: 

How does it feel to live in Gaza under siege?

'My parents saw Jordan and Egypt. I have only ever seen Gaza. People ask me what it's like but I have only ever seen Gaza.'

And it's true, how would we know how good, bad, fun, boring, beautiful or unbearable something or somewhere is, if it is all we have ever known? With this answer, they'd set their self-awareness in stone and the floor opened up a little.

So why did you make the videos - what did you get from it?

'It shaped me into someone new' said a TFE rep. 
He shared with us that the video helped him to express his 'other self'. I can identify with this, performing (particularly spoken word) gives you a chance to reflect on who you are and channel your feelings in ways you wouldn't normally explore. It makes you think about things you think of every day, in a different light.

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One of the girls amongst the group took this further and said, 'it introduced me to drama as education, I'd never thought about it like that before'. 
Drama has been a huge part of my education and this realisation really spoke to me. Self-expression has been a part of who I am, through performance arts, writing and media and I think it really helped me to find peace in who I am. I totally understood her revelation and the impact it might have. 

Jonathan then sprang into action to let them know that the videos gave us, in this small space in Shoreditch, hope. It met with the response, 'Hope comes from the humblest of places...huh?'

They were testing us, challenging us to challenge our views about them - not to limit our expectations or underestimate them and the test continued...

usa.chinadaily.com.cn - Gaza sea shore

A member of the UK audience asked them: 
But how do you stay motivated?

They replied 'Everyone has a dream - I am living the same as you. My rights, my dreams, Israel limits everything, so we can create hope from anything'. 

Who are we to assume life there is hopeless? No-one. Yet TFE remain aware of their audience.

(Speaking about the Skype screen) 'This is a window to let the light through. It's tough, we still have hope because we know that outside Gaza there is this world that believes in us'.

And they do. They really do. 

es.klear.com - Gaza City

Taking it further - challenging us to see Gaza in another light, to see past the news reels and destruction, a TFE rep said:

'We Gazans cling to any slice of hope. The blockade, the siege, it's boring to me. We want to paint the picture of the beauty of Gaza.  Beautiful places and culture in Gaza that we want to convey'.

A culture we only caught a glimpse of, but really felt a sense of. If you didn't click the link to watch the videos above, then go back and see for yourselves.

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Then followed a very clear message to anyone who would try to stand in the way of their project to reach out to the world - although with connotations spreading much further than the rooms we found ourselves in. When asked 'Are you not scared your messages will be censored?'. The reply simply came:

'It will not stop us.'

The TFE team were of course a lot like any other drama group, they had the class clown (who never failed to let us forget how cold it was there), the confident ones, the shy ones - we were even treated to a rap of a Shakespearean sonnet! It was like hanging out with familiar friends, friends who were sharing a very powerful message with the world. Messages that say we are just like you, do not underestimate us, do not assume we do not know hope.

When asked their final question, 'what is freedom to you?' - the most powerful answer of the evening came:
'We will not define freedom until we get it'

And why would you? How could you? 

With Thanks to Theatre For Everybody and AZ Theatre. Rich Mix, 2016.

Royal Navy School

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With my older brother being a marine who trained at Victory about 12yrs ago, I was excited for C4s Royal Navy School to see what he and his mates really got up to at basic training. Episode 1 offered an inside look at Raleigh in Cornwall but was a little more dull then I'd expected, and fails to really explain much about the training process either. The production assumed that audiences knew and understood some of the navy lingo my brother would come home confusing me with. 'I ate some dodgy skran from the NAAFI and had to run to the wets'

He's never said that sentence - but you get the point. (It did make me feel like a bit of an expert when I was able to explain these words to my confused boyfriend).

When following squad leader Ronan's story, particularly towards the end, phrases like 'passing out' came with another meaning. Ronan discovers during training that his heart beats irregularly and has to leave and undergo surgery. It is perhaps the only moment we really witness the friendship of the lads first-hand as they say goodbye to a man they've all looked up to as a father figure. Although it's not long later and he's back with new recruits being awarded the role of squad leader once again. 

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We could have done with more backstory to the three boys we focussed on really. With the exception of father-figure Ronan we didn't really care much about them as characters. We saw Hugh Harland throw a hissy fit over his ironing, then again at the end when he'd learnt to no longer answer back to his superiors - but we saw no evidence of the journey in between to suggest how this was possible. There just wasn't enough fly-on-the-wall action to get us into the bromances and friendships formed in the dorm. I wanted to see those friendships form, I wanted to watch them grow not just hear about it. Where were the pranks I've heard so much about? The sabotage of kit? Where was the banter?

Though if it's entertainment you're after then look no further than the COD!

Next week it's onto Cornwall's newest recruits - so maybe we'll find some more banter in ep2! An OK start to a series that hasn't really started yet - onwards and upwards. Will we see them all pass out? Who knows. 

The Book Thief

I found a post buried within the notes of my Iphone, so almost three years later, here it is! (I hope I'm a bit better at writing now)

I'd almost go as far as saying that this was among my best films of the year so far. Twelve years a slave was certainly up there and Book Thief makes it too.

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The film has the kind of soundtrack you would want to buy and listen to all day long. It was emotive and reflective and set the tone well. That, combined with the beatified innocence of Liesel and Rudy with their bright eyes and flawless skin made it so you could not look away. You could see into their souls through their eyes and were drawn into wishing some good luck would come their way. Director Brian Percival couldn't have cast more beautiful children. 

The Book Thief follows Liesel as her communist mother gives her up to a German family, to keep her safe and to ultimately give her a good life. This rapidly follows the death of her younger brother which begins a trend of loss that Liesel becomes quite accustomed to. On her arrival to the area, schoolboy Rudy takes a liking to her and she to him, and they quickly become good friends. 

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It isn't long however, before someone arrives to stand in the way of that - a Jew. Liesel's new papa takes him in, indebted to Max's father and the dangerous secrets begin. There really are beautiful moments within the plot. For example, as Max cannot go outside for fear of being discovered by the Germans, Liesel describes the days to him as she learns new words from her books. One day it snows, and she brings in buckets full for him to feel. Her Papa soon joins in the fun shortly followed by our stern tempered, hard faced mama. It is a wonder to behold. A warmth amidst a film that is ultimately quite soul destroying. 

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Then follows air raids, conscription, death and illness. The only light Liesel has in her life is her friend Rudy, whom she distances herself from in order to keep her secret, and her books. The books that she reads at the Mayor's house when she delivers his wife's ironing are another escape for her, at a time when books are threatened by the Nazi regime. The relationship that unfolds between these two women is charming. The mayor's wife, Ilsa Hermann explains that she lost her own child when he was young and Liesel somehow aids her mourning, through the love she finds for life in her books and in sharing them. 

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When the commandant finds out he forbids it to carry on and so, Liesel's salvation lies in tatters, or does it. The title of the film lends itself to the solution and Liesel begins to steal books when Max falls ill from the cold of the snow she's brought in. It seems that happiness throughout is almost immediately destroyed by devastation. Nevertheless she is convinced that reading to him will keep him alive. But stealing books from the commandant has it's risks, luckily it was only Rudy, equally as innocent, that discovers her secret. We see some real devotion among children that truly reminded me of why I sometimes have belief in humanity. As he takes a beating and jumps into the river to retrieve a book, Rudy shows just how powerful a childhood friendship can be - although perhaps he wants a little more than friendship.

The set, the costume, the casting, the music - all brilliant. The script, also brilliant. It can at times appear sentimental but that is not a flaw by any means, it simply means that by the end, we are left more devastated.

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I have to applaud the ability of our two young leads in particular. They lit up the screen, and their friendship was completely believable. I can imagine them both running around set together in between takes. It's the kind of thing I remember adoring between father and children in Chitty Chitty bang bang. It's quite hard to have such onscreen integrity but with a heavy script that offered a very astute and adult voice to the young - they aced it. There was similar relationship between Liesel and Hans Hubermann, her new 'papa'. He is softer than his wife and they share moments of light-hearted jest at her expense, bring them closer together in a time of great unhappiness.

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All in all, on leaving the cinema I felt holistic content. As much as the plot destroyed all of the characters we so wanted to live happily ever after, the fact that it didn't give in to that, and instead stayed true to the book and provenance of the era, made it all the more special. It was nice to see a story more focussed on the relationships of the characters than on the events going on around them - as is so often portrayed in modern film. After all, in war, it is these relationships that decide our fate, more often than not. We will Liesel to go on learning, to go on reading and ultimately ensure that the fascist society she hates, educates itself against prejudice and war. When that final moment comes and Max walks in to greet her, we breathe a sigh of relief, that Liesel might finally have found someone that refuses to die, as everyone she has loved falls short of survival. Her passion for finding happiness and hope in everything is something we all wish we had more often.

I'm so glad I saw 'The Book Thief'. It makes a nice change from thrillers and superhero action films. If you want a film to help you reevaluate your life, or send sparks to your spirit then definitely make the effort! Some child actors with a very, very bright future ahead I think. It'll also be a nice one to cuddle up on the sofa and get a bit teary when it comes out on DVD!

Piaf

www.piaf.blackwingedcreatives.com

Before this production, I didn't know that the Charing Cross Theatre existed, so it was a lovely little find, courtesy of TimeOut and a theatre that transported me back to my hometown.

Edith Piaf is one of the few artists I own on vinyl and upon listening to her, I feel I can almost open my eyes to find myself in 1930s - 1940s France. I expected that very same feeling from this production of Pam Gems' Piaf. 

It took a while to warm to the odd cockney tones of our leading lady, oo moov'd from rymin sla-ang to Français at odd intervals that never really felt natural - a bit like that sentence. It would have been better to do away with the obvious attempt at placing Piaf in the lower class, so that the French accent didn't appear as erratic as it began to feel.

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The budget seemed small, using physical theatre and mime to enact car crashes, minimal sets and multi-rolling that made relationships difficult to follow. It was hard to tell scene from scene, to follow time, to track locations but at least there was one thing right - the casting of the lead was brilliant. Accent aside, Cameron Leigh nailed Piaf's vocal style and her belting solos smashed to the back wall of the auditorium. They were the best moments of the show for me (although I would have loved for her to hold the notes at the end of the songs a little more).

londonliving.at

Valerie Cutko was a memorable and classy Marlene Dietrich portraying the warmth and sometimes pity that she felt for Edith. (Although even that was confusing as she appears also, as nurse and as Madeleine). Samantha Spurgin was great as lifelong friend Toine, with her hearty giggles and shameless vulgarity. She seemed to ground the piece as one of the few characters that appeared and reappeared throughout. In fact, the many men in Piaf's life seemed to fade into the background a little - given that the text did not allow any of them to make any real impact. They are easily forgettable.

I would have liked to have had more time, to take in these characters - perhaps director Jari Laakso could have suggested a few more distinguishing characteristics or indeed, cast more actors to play the roles. It seems like blasphemy to call a show about our little sparrow anything but divine but there was just something lacking in spirit I think, even if the general demeanour and physicality of Leigh's Piaf was authentic. It wasn't the leading lady, just the script moves so quickly through time that it was impossible to ever clutch to a moment that moved you. It's like a crash course on Piaf's life, that leaves us walking away a little bewildered. Perhaps the key to Piaf is simplicity, she said a lot in her songs and we don't need to hear the whole story of her life crammed into two hours onstage. We didn't need to see it all.

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An applaudable effort and one that certainly celebrated the vivacious nature of Edith Piaf and her complete undying need to sing. If her health diminished, her spirit and voice did not. If the text didn't quite achieve much else than portraying just that - then perhaps that's ok. Or at least it is with me - je ne regrette rien.

theguardian.com

Which Way is the Front-line From Here?

When I was at Sheffield DocFest last year, I saw the Tim Hetherington Award go to Matthew Heineman, director of Cartel Land (which I'll review later). Awards like this not only exist to honour the memory of those they're named after by awarding the best documentarians of the time but they also function to introduce us newbies in the industry to the greats who came before us.

Following the award I set out to find out more about who Tim Hetherington was and came across Which Way is the Frontline From Here? There was something in this film that didn't just inspire me career-wise, but something that recognised the way I feel about about conflict. I am often asked how I can bear to watch documentary after documentary about pain, war and conflict and the only answer I've ever been able to give, is that in these films, I find more hope in humanity than I do, pain. To see humans struggle on, is something that always succeeds in getting me out of bed and committing to making a difference in the world somehow. Tim perhaps was different, it was his instinct, his nature, rather than just his passion. I have no experience to be able to know this yet. But this film shows certainly that he is someone to look to, when I think about my future.

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Tim was a photojournalist, humanitarian and film-maker and his unique way of highlighting the plight of those often forgotten is a value I hold very dear to my heart. I have in fact just enrolled in a photography course to expand my field of vision through the lens. Tim travelled to many places, finding himself in situations he had not trained for, just felt equipped for. In Liberia, he captured the the story of war through sport. In Sierra Leone he captured those left without access to substantial healthcare and the victims of the fighters of the Revolutionary Front, who were left blinded. He found a way of capturing the stories of war that are often forgotten, through photographs that speak far louder than those we are used to in mainstream media.

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Tim also managed to find friendship amidst the situations he found himself a part of. As his friend James put, 'he wasn't a humanitarian, or a journalist, or a photographer, he was just Tim'. He was unafraid of immersing himself in conflicts, he even stepped in to save a doctor's life when guns were pointed to his head - an act according to friends only Tim could have got away with. Then in Afghanistan, he again found himself at home within an angle of war, this time with the US army. Here he captured men in a place where they were allowed to love one another, and found innocent boys sleeping in their beds rather than the killing-machines they are often described as. Tim, despite the subject, always found the humanity in his photographs.

He continued to do so to his last moment as he chased towards the front-line in Libya, where he was killed by mortal fire alongside fellow photojournalists and civilians.

I find myself unable to say much more, how can I possibly review the making of a documentary capturing the life of a man whose job it was to do just that. The film captured moments of Tim's life we would not have seen without knowing him personally, with footage that showed him for the man he really was, a man who only ever had time for people above any form of standard journalistic practice. I'm glad I was there to see the Tim Hetherington Award presented in Sheffield, or perhaps I might never have known about the man he was and may never have learned from him the values I want to be a part of my own career in the future.

theguardian.com

So it Goes...

I had originally planned to spend the afternoon with a friend but with his final get-out calling to him I found other ways to entertain myself instead. Carting around my suitcase and two bags I power-walked from the infirmary to the Underbelly to catch the well-reviewed show, 'So It Goes'.

edinburghshowcase.britishcouncil.org

Family seemed to be a running theme with all of the shows I managed to see this year but in this one in particular, we were thrust into a world of family relationships that seemed all too familiar. The piece is based on a story following the journey of Hannah, mourning the death of her father. As she struggles to speak about her grief in the 7yrs that follow, she instead turns her focus to moping on the sofa and nights out on the town until finally she finds a way back to her mother. It was the second show I caught at the Fringe this year to avoid speech entirely, leaving a magnified emphasis on the visuals - which were bursting with originality and symbolic of the inability to see black and white at times of emotional difficulty.

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Facial expressions were at their best in this one, there was plenty of energy despite the subject matter and lack of dialogue. The show also featured lots (And lots) of whiteboards as important parts of the story were written for the audience to see - allowing us into our protagonist's world (and I applaud them on managing to write upside down)!

theartsdesk.com

We were drawn in with a high energy beginning, with enactments of memories of dad running everywhere, to work, to the shop, around the park. Dad loved to run. And our girl loved dad.

Line drawings were a huge part of the character of this show. Not only did it act to aid scene changes, explain narrative or act as scenery - it also had a kind of symbolic nature, representing the many childlike emotions that can present post-trauma. There was also something harrowing about seeing the solitary word 'cancer' written on one of the cards aided by an x-Ray like drawing of dad's insides. Despite the impact of the negative, these drawings also suggested a childish quality in our characters that gave them life and enabled us to really feel sympathy for them.

eastendreview.co.uk

I particularly enjoyed the club scene, with buckets of energy from our two actors (and buckets to catch the amount of sweat produced too), and with line drawings to represent the crowd and drinks - it was as clever visually as it was emotionally climatic. This was the moment for me that made the most sense when it comes to mourning - as we turn our energy to losing our minds and finesse the art of distraction. It's a routine I've practiced and one I could really connect with.

So it Goes... was brutally powerful. I am very much a woman of words and I find it much easier to write them down, rather than share them with anybody out loud. The show was a perfect embodiment of grief, of memory and of moving on. It was warm, it was fragile and it was human, which made it a hit at the Fringe this year and I hope on bigger stages to follow.

Find out more about the story behind the show here: http://www.ontheruntheatre.co.uk/#!current-production/cb3i

Dreams of A Life

We all dream of that life we wished we'd have led, we all dream of becoming someone better, or wealthier, but film-maker Carol Morley takes that dream one step further. She assumes the dream of Joyce Carol Vincent, a lady found dead in her flat having laid there for three whole years. Morley turns this hopelessly sad situation into a film about a young woman with lots of friends and lots of dreams, with vibrancy and life seeping through the screen.

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It is at heart, an art-film with an essence of docudrama to fill in the gaps of Joyce's story where there is no record. We do not meet her family. We do not know the whole story. In fact, there is a total lack of any solid evidence of how Joyce spent her time and how troubled she really was. Yet, amidst such a lack of information about her, we are presented with a film that is full of character and one that acts as a respectful memorial to her life.

Carol Morley 's affection for the story is evident in her production. The careful casting of the beautiful Zawe Ashton and the genuine shock of the contributors we meet along the way, on hearing about Joyce's fate almost draw us to keep watching. We want to know what they wish to know, how this beautiful, apparently life-loving girl, came to be forgotten.

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The aesthetics were perfect - shadowed rooms in which Joyce always carried a glow. SFX of dripping taps and old 80s music adding character even to stone walls. We have all had moments in our lives where we pretend to be happy, where we tell others (and ourselves) that we are fine, but there is a deep wound that Joyce was hiding and although we're never quite sure which of her experiences hurt her most, we cannot tear our eyes away from trying to work it out. We watch her miming to her beautiful reflection in the mirror, we hear recordings of her singing. Joyce is living and breathing in the film, without ever actually being there. As an audience we want to save her, to reach into the screen and to be her friend, for the story not to be real. We want her to be remembered and Morley in this, does beautifully. 

We find ourselves stunningly moved by a news article that we may have perhaps glanced over before. Suddenly the story is a life, and the life is one we care about.

theartsdesk.com

I can't say much more, but the intimate and tragically beautiful dramatisation of Vincent's life, carried by the painful interviews of those who knew her, is just a wonderful and respectful memorial, to a young woman who met with tragedy. It is one of the most incredible factual films I've seen in the last few years, particularly surprising as there is, as the situation suggests, a significant lack of fact. I feel as though we pay our respects to Joyce and many others like her we will never know about, when we watch this film.

Joyce Carole Vincent