Paperback Time Machine

Some Fringe clichés exist for a reason. One of the more tragic ones tells of the talented performer who enters the stage to face a nearly empty auditorium. Only one or two punters have showed up and the performer has the choice between quitting or to committing to an hour long figurative lap dance, vying for the attention of the stranger in the darkness. In the case of Paperback Time Machine, it was not hard to stay engaged.

When writer-performer Trevor O’Connell faces the solitary reviewer for his one man show at the upstairs room in The Mash House, he seems completely unfazed. He takes out a bound diary, starts flipping through the pages and tells the story of how in 1946 he, the young, Irish sailor Casey, landed in New York. His story serves to explore expat Irishness throughout the past 60 years and this is captured through symbols, music and loving descriptions of landmark buildings – some gone and forgotten now, some gone but forever etched into the collective cultural memory.

O’Connell captures momentous events in small anecdotes. When he plays Dylan on the guitar, meets the tragic poet Dylan, or reenact his escapades with the lovable crook Fitz, he threads before our eyes the complex geography of a city stitched together over centuries by the hard work of immigrants. The sailor’s relationship to New York is epitomised in his infatuation with a woman as complex as the city itself.

Although the performance is still being developed, O’Connell’s coming-of-age story is certainly accomplished and its rich, descriptive language and quirky characters could be straight out of a Don DeLillo novel. Presented by TMT Productions and directed by Genevieve and Anna Hulme-Beaman, this play is a warm and melancholic piece of storytelling – one of those shows that should not ever struggle with empty auditoriums again. Smash the fringe cliché or miss the next Conor McPherson at your own peril.

 

Originally written Broadway Baby’s Edinburgh Fringe 2014 coverage.

Nougat for Kings at the Underbelly

This raucous romp with a proclivity for puns and a lot of alliterative ardour flails ferociously to amuse. If someone had dirt on Tarantino and forced him to do a period piece with pirates the result would look a little like Nougat for Kings. The show borrows not only the master of neo-noir’s tangled plots and aestheticization of violence but also Tarantino’s famous use of an original music soundtrack, which is imitated here with sassy soul soundbites and acapella Queen lyrics cutting into the whimsical dialogue.

With swashbuckling noblemen standing in for gunslinging thugs, this piece of new writing revolves around two rival brothers: one scheming, the other adventurous. Both were involved in The Big Coffee Heist of 1799. Fifteen years on, the coffee conspiracy catches up with an aristocratic household. Peruvian rascals collide with highly strung dames; emotions and coffee beans fly high in this pleasantly flimsy farce. The show winds its way through time-mashing references, but when confessions of love are fobbed off with “I don’t care if you’re Milton or P Diddy,” it works surprisingly well.

However, Greg Obi’s chatter as the finger-snapping Caecilius Clay becomes fairly strained after 40 minutes, along with the overall show’s heavy reliance on word play and flowery language. The cast, while perhaps too large, is energetic, committed, and throws everything at the stunts, stage fights and, notably, an South American coffee dance orgy. Sadly, most of this happens at the expense of character nuance.

You don’t see the end coming by a heteronormative mile but, considering it’s an original farce, the show suffers somewhat from insufficient laughter. Unleash The Llama’s genre-mixing experiment has Tarantino’s balls (the show is not suitable for minors) but it does not quite share his storytelling finesse.

Written for Broadway Baby as part of the Edinburgh Fringe 2014 coverage.

Mummenschanz at the Peacock Theatre

It’s just a white line on the floor, the rest is black. Then, a tiny part of the line moves and after a while it slowly erects itself. It bends down again and suddenly comes to life. It wriggles about and dances to some kind of silent beat. This simple white line has turned into something akin to a human being.

 
It’s astonishing how little it takes for the brain to project human features and emotions onto inanimate objects, and Mummenschanz have been working on this premise for the last 42 years. It’s their first stint into London since 2006 and in only 80 minutes the company presents over twenty playful sketches from the vast body of their work. In the little moments, glittery curtains, loo roll faces and even massive construction site tubes come to life and play out universal emotions which are at the core of human existence. Life from broken down into their most basic geometrical forms (a robot turned crab turned wasp out of just a few yellow rectangles) re-enact scenes of love, jealousy or, in the case of glittery fish in a magical underwater world, the survival of the fittest. The players, consisting of Floriana Frassetto, Philipp Egli, Raffaella Mattioli and Pietro Montandon, are skilled performers that make you utterly forget that these shapes and figures are manipulated by humans.

 
It is a children’s show only in as much it doesn’t rely on complex narratives to tell these stories. In fact, the players never utter a single word, which also explains the huge international success of the company. The magic of the show comes from the striking images alone. They create audible wonderment in the audience for simple shapes, movement and light. As is common in clownery, even though words are absent, the show is very much about language and strategies in non-verbal communication. Here, the shapes, often conjured up for mere seconds, stand in for attitudes and emotions. A striking example is the scene in which a bit of fluttery tape creates the shape of two people in conversation and over the course of a few moment builds up to a vicious argument between them.

 
We are so used to sensory overload with information flooding in through all our receptive channels over pads, phones and screens that it’s difficult to enjoy something as pure and simple as dancing flickers of light. Frassetto’s company forgoes the multimedia spectacle on purpose but it comes at a price. At its best the show is quick, quirky and entertaining, just a white line doing a jaunty jig and clever lighting hiding the skilful performers. When it (silently) elaborates, Mummenschanz feels a little out-dated and the disjointed structure while still amusing fails to hold the audience attention for the whole duration of the show.

The Last Days of Limehouse by Yellow Earth

Have you wandered around London’s China Town lately? The pretty gates in Soho serve as a popular tourist attraction but have you ever wondered where the Chinese community in London actually lives? Not in Soho, that’s for sure, swamped as it is with actor’s agents and film post-production offices.

The Last Days of Limehouse invites audiences to enter the cultural memory of a forgotten past. It aims to reverse the cultural amnesia brought about by the big building cranes swooping over cities, and that sing the songs of redevelopment and community dislocation.

Although concerned with the past, Jeremy Tiang’s The Last Days of Limehouse might be one of the more urgent and relevant pieces out at the moment. Exploring a forgotten time when London’s East End was awash with Chinese immigrants, this production by Yellow Earth is a richly layered exploration of memory and heritage but it also forces us to take a look at how we as a society want to shape our future.

The story is of Asian-American banker’s wife Eileen Cunningham who in 1958 returns to her childhood home in Limehouse only to find that the area is about to be demolished to make room for modern buildings. The locals, a lot of them second or third generation immigrants, face the demise of their small businesses and personal relocation into council estates. The eradication of slums brings along the obliteration of history, and Chinese shops, restaurants and laundries, passed on from generation to generation, will turn into generic high streets.

Fxated on the idea to “Save Limehouse”, Mrs Cunningham looks for support among the locals. “You can’t just tear things to pieces and call it progress,” she cries in one of her meddling interventions. Amanda Maud gives the initially grating character a relatable urgency while ever so often letting slip through the melancholia that comes with not having a place to call home.

A young mother-to-be, Iris, is torn whether to support the brash American or not. Her mother taught Cantonese to the immigrants in Limehouse so they would be able to keep in touch with their roots. Iris is eager to preserve her mother’s memory; however, the redevelopment also promises a rise in living standards for her young family. Gabby Wong plays the conflicted young woman with a lot of warmth which complements Matthew Leonhart’s hotheaded husband. He, like Sarah Houghton’s Mary, questions the point of preserving an area that leaves residents in derelict buildings without access to running water. Here, personal interest clashes with the idea of preserving a community.

By putting the show into a stripped down promenade format in a spacious room in Limehouse Town Hall, Kumiko Mendl’s and Gary Merry’s direction brings out the themes in Tiang’s play effectively. It is true that community involvement, especially in the performing arts, is usually brandished like an almighty sword. The struggle of Mrs Cunningham illustrates how positive change for a community must come from within to make an impact. Yellow Earth have captured this beautifully and they engage with cultural memory in a meaningful way by examining the difference between remembering people or places.

Jonathan Chan deserves a mention for his tender performance as Stanley. In few words he creates a brittle character who despite a tendency for humorous interjections, struggles to adapt to the rash changes in his community. A gifted ensemble that creates atmosphere through dance and background activities completes the cast.

The Heritage Lottery funded piece is accompanied by an exhibition as well as a website and a downloadable audio tour which allows further exploration.