Theatre is an act of trust and collaboration.
A writer
hands off their work to a director. A director guides the actors until they
make it their own. The actors bring it to life in front of an audience – and their
lives will inform how they receive the play.
Different directors
will imbue a text with their own vision. New actors will bring their own selves
to a work.
Usually,
though, narrative is the structure off which everything hangs. The script is
locked down and the story is the story is the story.
Caryl
Churchill’s work is always formerly inventive. Far Away is filled with
beautiful potent metaphor, where story is set aside for dropping the audience
into a world that at first blush seems surreal, but says so much about our
world. Escaped Alone is keenly observed experience of neighbours and
interlopers and an oncoming global catastrophe. Top Girls, her most
famous work, mixes the reality of women in the 1980s living in Thatcher’s
Britain, while folding in dreamlike scenarios of famous women of history.
All of
those plays, though, have an obvious shape to them. While the content requires
some active interpretation and deciphering by the audience, you can see a beginning,
middle and end.
Love and
Information is challenging
in a whole other way. The script is divided into seven sections. Within each
section, there are seven scenes. Each section must be played in order, but the
scenes do not. And there are some random bits and pieces at the end of the text
that can be sprinkled into the play wherever the director sees fit.
The scenes
don’t specify character or gender or context. It’s a gift and a challenge.
There’s
been a trend on Melbourne indie stages this year to make work on a theme, filled
with vignettes and sketches and scenarios that speak to a certain idea, eschewing
the expectation of a full-length narrative. Boys on the Verge of Tears
was the most successful, I think. Boys and men in and out of the communal space
of a public toilet and on the verge of tears, was the only thing that
hung these stories together. But there was a shape. A dramatic rise and fall
and a cathartic ending.
But putting together a play that is random scenes on a theme is a tricky prospect. The theme might not be rich enough to sustain a night of theatre. You might repeat yourself or the production could feel aimless.
I first
encountered Love and Information in Sydney Theatre Company’s production
directed by Kip Williams, staged in Melbourne at the Malthouse. I described it as evoking our modern-day consumption
of information – scrolling through Facebook or Twitter.
A new
production, directed by Belle Hansen at Theatre Works, knows that ten years later,
our experience of information comes more like a tidal wave or an earthquake. I
know our addiction to social media wasn’t that healthy in 2015, but now we call
it doomscrolling for a reason.
Churchill
requires a director to make a lot more choices than usual. She doesn’t suggest
much at all; though she implies every character is a different person. But
because there is no order, nothing to define a space or a person or a setting, Hansen
and the production team has their work cut out for them.
Hansen’s
previous work proves she has a strong hand at director large ensembles, which
is essential here. With a cast of eight playing many dozen characters, with
scenes and moments flitting by in seconds, Hansen seamlessly guides her cast across
the stage, often in beautifully choreographed flourishes.
A number of
the opening vignettes are tied together with an over-arching rainstorm, the
sound of thunder and rain being occasionally oppressive and distracting. But tying
random moments together with this weather event and some well deployed umbrellas
starts things off strongly.
The cast is
wonderful, bringing to life this kaleidoscope of characters with a
kind of precision that is often lacking on our independent stages. The last two
productions I’ve seen at Theatre Works have been miked, which helps out a lot
in that cavernous space. There is never an issue hearing the ensemble, which
means they can be soft and underplay things without having to project. It
allows a lovely intimacy, especially when delivering moments Churchill has
scripted as a single line or even a sentence fragment.
“Chicken
tikka masala… a glass of red or…” is imbued with uncertainty and honesty and we’re
onto the next thing.
The scene
called Censor is played as a self-taped audition, when it could be a dramatic
exploration of authoritarianism. Remote is a clever choice for the opening
scene, depicting a moment where the two characters are cut off from
information. Spies might be a searing indictment of the government, but here it’s
about school children and one-upmanship.
Churchill,
of course, wants wild interpretations, but it’s so heartening when a production
makes smart choices and plays with form and imagery and theatrical trickery to
land drama and humour and imbue some moments with a delightful cheekiness.
The set by Harry
Gill – fake grass under a proscenium painted with blue skies and crowds
threatens to overwhelm things. It’s bold, but it takes away from some of the
more striking imagery that is created by Sidney Younger’s inventive lighting
design and Hannah Jennings projection design.
The use of
projected imagery, both specially filmed and sourced from newscasts, helps with
Hansen’s vision of a world in information overload. Sometimes it’s as funny or
insightful as what is happening live in front of us, but occasionally it’s distracting.
The ever-present
Sound Design by Jack Burmeister drowned out some of the dialogue and the score
tipped some of the drama into melodrama. But as the show progressed, all the pieces
started to fall into place and the gathering together of every element produced
theatre with real punch.
And there
is a shape to Love and Information. We aren’t just being inundated with
bad news. There are connections to be made, friendships to be forged and love
to be found, endured and perhaps lost. The play wants us to cherish personal
connection as a kind of shield against a flood of news, while also delighting
in learning and passing on knowledge.
This is a tricky
play to get right. But while it is open to interpretation, Churchill's script does help to guide the experience, giving touchstones to build on. And when things click, when drama builds and our hearts and minds are open to the experience,
this production of Love and Information really sings.
- Keith Gow, Theatre First
Love and
Information is
playing at Theatre Works until June 14
Photos: Steven Mitchell Wright
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