Artistic Director's Welcome to Merge2012: Our City, Our Story

Hello, and welcome to the third Merge Arts Festival - Merge2012: Our City, Our Story. Thanks for coming along.

This year's Festival has been inspired by the archives held at Hull History Centre. There's a wealth of information from Hull's rich past in there and it's well worth a visit.

We hope Merge2012 brings together yet more people in a celebration of the city's talent and heritage. You'll see the archives reflected in our centrepiece event, Merge @ Hull City Hall, our evening concert featuring a selection of local (Hull, the East Riding and Lincolnshire) folk songs housed in the archives. There's also Winifred: A Dramatic Portrait, which dramatises the life of local author Winifred Holtby. Other events in our program also go some way to celebrating local talent and local heritage.

This is our biggest festival yet, and once again I am grateful to a wide range of people for their support. Many of them are named in this brochure, but a few deserve a special mention. The University of Hull's Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences has again been generous in their support, and we recognise generous support from the City Council in various guises. We'd also like to thank our venues, the City Hall, Hartley's Tap and NAPA, for their support and generous hosting. Other people worthy of special mention are listed along with Merge's staff.

We hope this year's program inspires and educates. If Hull is to be an aspiring city, a city worthy of pride, its youth has to be stimulated, involved and engaged in the arts, in culture, in sport and in education. With the way things are going, they’re going to need all the inspiration they can get.

I hope you find something of interest, something to make you think, or something you didn't know (or all of the above!). You can leave us feedback on our Facebook or Twitter, or email us on info@mergearts.org.uk.

Please, get yourself a drink, and enjoy the Festival!

Thanks,
Richard T. Watson
Artistic Director | Merge Arts Festival


Merge is:
Artistic Director: Richard T. Watson

Production Manager: Stefan Ward-Caddle

Publicity Director: Portia Ellis-Woods

Publicity Assistant: Becka Willougby

Education Director: Zoe Hughes

Design by: Becka Willoughby, Will Langdale & Richard T. Watson

With special thanks to:

Professor Alison Yarrington and the University of Hull’s Faculty of Arts & Social Sciences
Marianne Lewsley-Stier and iHull
Martin Taylor and staff at the Hull History Centre
Louise Yates and the City Arts Unit
Claire Balfour and staff at Hull City Hall
Barbara Dawson and staff at Northern Academy of Performing Arts
Staff at Hartley’s Tap
Paul Hunter and the New Adelphi Club
Steve Gardham
John Connolly and Bill Meek
Andrew Penny
Dr Jane Thomas & Professor Marion Shaw
Piaf Knight
Lisa Hey
Dale Christmas
Keira Walker
Professor John Stringer
John Morrison
Ian Watson
Felix Hodcroft
Jamie McGarry and Valley Press
Ashley Fisher
Will Langdale
Jonno Witts
Elizabeth Coombs Photography
Sarah Clinch and Hull CVS
The Tricycle Theatre, Kilburn

The Coronation of Poppea at Hull University

The Coronation of Poppea - Middleton Hall, University of Hull

The court of the Roman Emperor could be an opulent, gaudy place – one where hot Italian passions were indulged; a passionate, dangerous environment. Especially passionate and self-willed/selfish was the court of Emperor Nerone (in English, Nero, now infamous for allegedly playing his fiddle while the city burned), portrayed in Claudio Monteverdi's opera of 1642, The Coronation of Poppea.

In its earlier form, this was the first opera to be based on historical material instead of mythology, although it still had a couple of Gods (Virtue, Fortune and Love) come along to kick everything off. The English-translation (by Christopher Cowell) presented for two nights in the University of Hull's Middleton Hall had been edited down by conductor Dale Christmas, cutting out all of the supernatural elements, much of the instrumental sections, and giving us instead a trim, lean near-tragedy driven entirely by the self-will and passions of one man: Emperor Nerone.

Nerone's a posturing, bullying little man under Jake Smith's direction, played by Beatrice Acland – it's a soprano part, making the Emperor of the Roman Empire prone to almost shrieking and having temper tantrums at times. But then what should the Romans expect? When you concentrate political control in one man from a young age, as in Nerone's case, giving him the wealth to match his power over life and death, of course he's going to consider his will paramount over all other concerns. Even the high-minded, intelligent Seneca (James Robinson, bass, in appropriately magnificent form) recognises Nerone's life-and-death authority with little opposition. It's knowing that death can happen so easily, on Nerone's whim, that gives the later half of this opera its tension – although (spoilers!) it never actually lives up to that threat and is left groping for a climax. Oh, and that innuendo just then...entirely deliberate.

Seneca (James Robinson) on the virtues of solitude - oblivious to the orchestra behind him...

Nerone's passion is for his mistress, Poppea of the title (soprano Abigail Spear), who lounges around the 1920s art deco apartment to which Smith has (sort of) relocated this Tudor-esque storyline. If we imagine Nerone about three times fatter/rounder then his desire to divorce his wife (Ottavia, soprano, Rachael Nolan) and replace her as Empress with his mistress could work in Henry VIII's England just as easily as in Ancient Rome. Unlike Anne Bolyen, however, Poppea's seduction of the Emperor is all about giving him what he wants (Anne Boleyn preferred to tempt her king, but keep him wanting until he'd committed to their affair by divorcing his queen and breaking with the Pope). Likewise, when together, Nerone and Poppea can't keep their hands off each other, their duets filled with phrases like 'to posses you' and 'to be with you' – but this is a relationship where they've clearly already 'possessed' each other, as far as Giovanni Busenello's libretto is concerned anyway.

A cloying embrace between Nerone (Beatrice Acland) and Poppea (Abigail Spear)

The passion isn't quite there onstage though. Poppea's nurse, Arnalta (Pam Waddington-Muse, a concerned contralto, who produces much of the opera's comedy), is on to something when she talks about Nerone as a schoolboy; Acland's Nerone is all about lustful pawings without convincing anyone that he has done or can do the deed, even with Spear serving herself up on a plate. The vocal blending of their duets is a poetic and musical union of their characters, but it has no counterpart in the physical and visual relationship which seems to always be promising that same intimacy, but always delaying it. It's only in the opera's closing moments that these two (the lovers are both soprano parts, which may be inhibiting) actually kiss each other, and it feels like they've finally overcome whatever nerves or inexperience had been holding them back – though we know from the libretto that they've already slept together.

Ottavia (Rachael Nolan) listens to Seneca praising her good fortune.

Monteverdi's score, arranged specially for this production by Matthew Moore, is played by a medium-sized ensemble (of maybe twenty musicians), featuring a smattering of period instruments like the harpsichord and the eye-catching theorbo. They're one more element giving the piece a Renaissance feel (despite Smith's attempt to relocate to the 1920s), relying on strings and recorders for much of the opera. It's all quite light and rippling, rarely lingering on a phrase or theme. In fact, there's very little in the way of tunes, as such; the orchestra, conducted by Christmas, competently underscores the action with melody throughout, but you don't go out humming any arias. This is early opera, a century before Mozart, and in its day was redefining what dramatic music could be and do, so we shouldn't expect it to be hugely adventurous by more modern standards.

The decadence and passion of Nerone's court is never quite visible in this visually 1920s relocation, and the relationship between Nerone and his mistress feels like an extended exercise in delayed gratification. And so Hull University's Coronation lacks a killer punch, despite its musical successes.

Images thanks to Elizabeth Coombs Photography.

Everyman at Hull's Holy Trinity Church

There's something about a play's character crying to God for forgiveness that makes me veer between two thoughts. One, the distant 'At least I'll never be like that', the other, a humbler, and perhaps more realistic 'There but for the grace of God go I'. Of course, it's the second of those two that the original performers of this play were after; the audience is supposed to recognise their own fragile state of grace, their own dependence on divine mercy, and to repent sharp-ish before their fate catches up with them.

The title alone should give it away. Everyman. That character crying out to God, to mercy, to charity and to all the things he's held dear through his life? That's Everyman, and he represents, yep, you've guessed it, every one of us (in this production, he's played by three people, including one woman). We are each as guilty as him of the faults he admits by the play's end – it's the usual: greed, lust, anger, gluttony, sloth.

Though we aren't quite complicit in Everyman's sins, we (and I mean the play's immediate audience, rather than mankind as a whole) are drawn into his repentance all the same. He stands barely metres in front of us, asking that he be forgiven, asking who he can turn to, and it's that insistent questioning that raises questions for the audience. Questions like: what would I do if called to give an account to God? Of course, you might not be too worried, if your opinion of an afterlife is that it's non-existent, but just go with it for a minute. There's a value to questioning the balance and account of your life when near its end, even if you don't believe that anyone supernatural's going to check up on you in your grave. Everyman is especially concerned about the balance of Good Deeds in his own account, and finding the book empty (like he does) should be a cause of concern even for a hardened atheist.

Good Deeds (Mondé Sibisi) sleeps until Everyman repents

But Everyman is hardly aimed at atheists; it's aimed at Catholic believers, reminding them that they're going to be checked up on on death, and they'd best keep their house in order. So of course, it makes perfect sense to stage Everyman in the Minster, in God's house; here is the perfection of God, aspire to it, everyone. And the church is perfectly suited to being a performance space – what is the church mass if not an elaborate performance by actors before an audience? - with the acoustics and (mostly natural) lighting to rival many more modern theatres. Religious ceremony is the birthplace of theatre, the elaborate and stylised address to the masses, the faintly poeticised and increasingly stage-y message preached to an audience sitting in hushed rows.

The University of Hull Drama Department's production immerses its audience in Hull's Holy Trinity Church (increasingly being opened up as a venue these days), where the architecture serves to hammer home the message of obedience to the divine will and serves as a reminder of both God's majesty and God's grace. We follow the story through the church on foot, taken to four different stations along Everyman's journey from frail sinner to reconstructed penitent. As Everyman hovers close to death, we walk – fittingly, perhaps, gingerly, certainly – over the graves of past generations, the inscriptions and memorials a fixed and literal reminder of the the transitory nature of human life. Again, the church's architecture reinforcing the message Death has already given to Everyman: Life was but lent thee:/ for as soon as thou art go,/ Another a while shall have it and then go therefro.

Jack Fielding's Everyman is left with no doubt about the message from Death (Johnny Neaves)

The University Drama Department – and specifically Dr Philip Crispin – has produced this living examination of medieval drama, following on from Mankind in 2010. Mankind was declamatory, static (literally and figuratively) and in a theatre. This is a much more immersive, flowing piece. A series of strong individual performances give life to a poetic depiction of human life close to the brink of death – the great unknown, guidance on which can be found in the Bible and, of course, this morality play.

Images thanks to Elizabeth Coombs Photography.

Artistic Director's Note to Merge 2011

They say that a band's second album is always the hardest, the 'difficult second album', so I like to think of Merge 2011 as the 'difficult second Festival'. Once we've got through that, we should be ready to take over the world and be as all-conquering as [insert your favourite band's name here].

Last year's Festival involved just over one hundred students as participants, and this year we've been even more ambitious. The Festival is split across several host venues and now happens over four days. It's all been designed to allow any audience member to see just about everything on offer. You could also look at our lovely little website, www.mergearts.org.uk.

There's a lot of stuff, so have a look around. We've got theatre, jazz, classical music, poetry, dance, performance art, workshops, burlesque, visual art...and it's all about showing off Hull's artistic scene.

Like any good band leader, I should thank the band. The Festival needs several people working hard on it through the year, and those people are listed below. I'm grateful to all of them. Once again, the University's Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences has funded the Festival, and we're again grateful for their generosity in doing so.

The Merge band has also relied on our host venues for somewhere to put our second album; this year they are the Albemarle Music Centre, Fruit and the Ringside. We'd like to thank staff at each for their hard work and patience over the last year.

For Merge 2011 we experimented with some run-up events called EarlyMerge, which were hosted by the Haworth Arms, Pave, Hull's History Centre and the Ringside, while workshops have been hosted by Hull College – so we extend our thanks to them too.

Finally, can I thank you for coming along? I hope you find at least one performance or artwork that really makes you think and shows that Hull has artistic talent to be proud of. That would be a good legacy for this year's Festival.

Once again, thank you for coming – have a look around, see some shows, and I hope to see you for next year's Festival.

Richard T. Watson, Artistic Director

PS. Enjoy the album!

The Merge Arts Festival is:

Artistic Director: Richard T. Watson

Finance Director/Co-Producer: Alison Best

Technical Directors: Jon Cole & Adam Foley

Publicity Director: Rachael Abbey

Education Director: Zoe Hughes

Designer: Will Langdale

With special thanks to:

Professor Valerie Sanders and the University of Hull's Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences

Sarah-Jane Dickenson and staff at the University's Department of Music and Drama

Chris Maynard and staff at the Albemarle Music Centre

Dean Shakespeare and staff at Fruit

Darren Bunting, Anna Fox and staff at the Ringside

Arike Oke and staff at the Hull History Centre

Staff at the Haworth Arms and Pave bar

Jamie McGarry

Lucy Thurlow, Hayley Nikolay and staff at Hull College

Simon Bedford and Hoipolloi Theatre

Keira Walker

Janet Pearce and Marianne Lewsley-Stier

Jonno Witts

Elizabeth Coombs

The Tricycle Theatre, Kilburn

RashDash Theatre Interview for Noises Off 2011

In which Abbi and Helen from RashDash answered my questions in an interview for NSDF's magazine, Noises Off.

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'We’ve set up an installation in Scarborough college,' says Abbi Greenland, of visiting artists RashDash Theatre. 'It’s essentially a play den where you can come and have fun for half an hour. Letting yourself go and finding an unleashed physicality is an essential aspect of our work. The space we’ve created gives everyone a chance to do that in a non-threatening un-scary way. There's also a film showing on Friday at 5pm for those who’ve come along during the week.'

RashDash Theatre (Greenland and Helen Goalen, as well as collaborators including Marc Graham and various musicians) was formed by students at the University of Hull's Drama Department, who have been producing and touring their own work since 2008. The company shares a ' desire to make work that formally encompasses music, physicality, drama and story'. They're also visiting artists at this year's Festival; their recent Fringe First award-winning show, Another Someone, will be performed on Thursday in the Spa Theatre at 10pm.

RashDash first came to NSDF in 2008 with their selected show Strict Machine (which 'wasn’t sophisticated thematically or formally') and then again with another selected show in 2009, Never Enough ('a development of what Strict Machine had been').

Their work has been described as feminist and funny, a description they are perfectly happy with: 'A show should always have at least one laugh, no? We’re both happy to be labelled feminist, although sometimes it puts people off... Being funny is a good way of getting round that. Our new show is feminist and funny, we hope. And whether it’s feminist or not – our stories are always told from a female perspective - because that’s who we are and that’s what we know. Our new show [Scary Gorgeous] is political, Another Someone isn't. We make shows about things that we care about at the time, and if that’s political, then the show is political.'

None of RashDash's shows are easily pinned down to one performance genre, often including dance and live music as well as theatre. 'We’ve never had a finished script before entering the rehearsal room so we’ll often switch between writing, choreographing and rehearsing scenes in one session. The musical side of our work is probably the most enjoyable element, having a group of people jamming out harmonies/parts is just a lot of fun and always a welcome break'.

The last few months have been busy for RashDash, and the future doesn't involve much slowing down. They're touring Another Someone across the UK, and previewing their new show, Scary Gorgeous. It's 'about raunch culture and porn. We wanted to know what people find sexy because we have a sneaky suspicion that the ways in which we try to be sexy and the things we find sexy often have very little to do with pleasurable sex.'

One thing NSDF is so good at is promoting and assisting upcoming new companies, and RashDash is one such company. 'it was great to meet the selectors and the visiting artists, who were encouraging and lovely, but the best bit was seeing other student shows. There was some great stuff going on, really different kinds of shows to those we’d seen before and really different to the kind of thing we were seeing at Uni. It made us hungry to make something better and different'. But selected performers aren't the only ones to benefit from the opportunities the Festival offers; anyone who's here has a chance to meet those people and see those shows.

For companies hoping to follow a similar route to them, RashDash have this advice:

'Keep going. It is difficult and at times you may feel ridiculous and like you shouldn’t be doing it, but if you’re passionate enough about making shows you will make it work.

Be honest with yourself about what you’re good at and what you’re not. Find people who are better than you at the stuff you’re not good at. This is a big lesson we are currently learning.
Work with people you like. If they’re brilliant but you don’t like them, it probably won’t work. '

I asked Abbi and Helen if there was any one thing they would recommend doing while in Scarborough. Their suggestion was 'paddling'...so go and enjoy some paddling.

The Song of Lunch on BBC Two

When Christopher Reid, writer of The Song of Lunch recently dramatised by the BBC, was teaching at my University he always came across as an advocate of the idea that poetry had to be read aloud to be fully appreciated. The BBC's staging of his long poem The Song of Lunch does great service in defence of this idea (but don't be put off reading it aloud yourself – like radio, the pictures may be better and/or more personal that way). Interestingly, it was Reid's successor at the University of Hull, Martin Goodman, who suggested The Song of Lunch be dramatised in the first place.

While the thought of putting a long poem about a lunch onto the small screen may not sound thrilling, this reading by Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson (talk about casting big guns) brings the work to life in a way you just wouldn't get if you read The Song of Lunch to yourself in your head. It comes as no surprise that Reid took James Joyce's Ulysses as an inspiration for The Song of Lunch, as that's another long piece of writing that gains immensely from being read aloud. The original poem The Song of Lunch has been praised for its cinematic quality, a quality which is plain even without watching Rickman acting out the words being intoned by his own voiceover.

What we have in The Song of Lunch is a slightly mournful reminiscing about past love, the fading of youthful promise and the remorseless march of time. Alan Rickman is beautifully cast as a failed writer stuck in a job editing other people's (in his opinion, worthless) prose. The lunch is question is with his old flame, Emma Thompson, now happily married (to a successful author, the agony!) with children yet still curiously affectionate toward a man she chastises for being overly fond of her. They're having lunch to catch up after fifteen (or so) years, and this is where the combination of small screen dramatisation and poetry really comes into its own. Aching moments are slowed down to allow for the poetic interior monologue of Rickman's thoughts and narration to pour out and colour the scene, filling in the blanks pulsing with heart-saddened meaning.

But The Song of Lunch is about more than just the lunch, and more than Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson. Okay, so it's a bit of an obvious metaphor that Reid goes for, but the restaurant itself encapsulates the overriding theme at work here. Remembered by Rickman's character as a niche and proudly Italian restaurant fifteen years ago, Zanzotti's is under new management...new waiters, new tablecloths, new menu (content and printing material), less satisfying wine (but, boy, does Rickman get through the stuff) and less impressive food. He's as disappointed by that as he is with his life since he last saw Thompson's character. Yet she is pleasantly surprised at the 'improvement', as she calls it. For her, none of Rickman's (gloriously expressed) contempt of white tablecloths – another case of Reid taking a leaf from Joyce and examining the minutiae of the mundane – and far less of the wine used as a coping mechanism. Thompson is assured and comfortable (both actress and character), humouring her old lover but reminding him of the boundaries; unlike him, she has moved on, thanks in part to that remorseless march of time thing.

Most impressive about the BBC's The Song of Lunch is the way in which dedicated acting brings to dramatic life a poem already vividly cinematic in quality. Although the final message does seem to be that, when meeting an old flame, drinking too much wine is unwise...you might end up sleeping it off on the roof.

The Song of Lunch may still be available via BBC iPlayer here.

Photos courtesy of the BBC and Digimist (weekends mostly).

Tell Tale at NSDF10 (from Noises Off)

Children play. They like to play. The inner child. The nine-year old expressed in a poetic limbo space before our eyes. In our minds.

Child's play is at the heart of Hull Uni's Tell Tale – the stage is filled with innocent naifs, who have just discovered the space they're in. At the same time as us. Or has the space discovered them? Either way, Sarah Davies' cast then give guided tours for some of the audience – those that brave the parachute game – around the space they themselves have only just discovered.
Each of these children have tales to tell – spot the title. Why: no one knows. Where: no one knows. But they're too adult, too knowledgeable, too worldy-wise, to be children.

They tell stories about animals. About butterflies and kangaroos, about hedgehogs and tortoises, about leopards and moths. They let dingoes loose in the daring dark, and their women wash in the wettest waters of the Wollgongilong River. Their butterflies perch on the fingers of kings. For no readily-apparent reason, they serve squash and biscuits. Don't ask why; your inner child doesn't. It's a children's party for all of the children in the theatre – bring your inner child if you want an invitation.

These children wander and wonder. The audience wonder. They have a chance to wander. Questions are asked: answers remain hidden somewhere off-stage – in some metaphysical, existential game of hide-and-seek. The children never dwell on a question; five more queue in the wings. Neither should you. Let your wonder wander.

It's about saying 'yes' to new questions and ideas. Giving free reign to that inner child.

Another Look at Larkin - from December 2009's Hullfire

This December marks twenty-four years since the death of internationally-renowned poet and Hull Uni librarian Philip Larkin. Which means that 2010 is the important twenty-fifth anniversary, and the University is teaming up with the Philip Larkin Society, Visit Hull and East Yorkshire and Hull City Council to celebrate.

Professor James Booth, Head of the English Department and Literary Advisor to the Philip Larkin Society, told me that Larkin “is the purest of lyric poets, he always writes about Life, Death, Love [...] That gives him his universal quality.” Larkin's string of awards from 1972-84 confirmed his international reputation, and he has recently been declared both the nation's favourite poet and the greatest post-war British writer. “He manages, and there's a certain magic to this, to choose the words of each of his poems in such a way that he copyrights ordinary words [...] when anybody now says 'they fuck you up, your mum and dad', everyone recognises it as a quote from Larkin!”

The celebrations – under the title Larkin 25: Another Look at Larkin – will run for twenty-five weeks, starting in June 2010 and ending at that twenty-fifth anniversary in December with the unveiling of a Larkin statue at the Paragon station. It's also worth looking out for the Plague of Toads that will strike Hull during Larkin 25 – dozens of huge, decorated fibreglass toads, popping up across the city – inspired by Larkin's Toads. Just imagine. Other events of interest include a series of University lectures from distinguished guests, including former Poet Laureate Andrew Motion. Elsewhere, there are plans for drama workshops at Hull Truck, jazz events (Larkin was a jazz critic for the Telegraph) and maybe a bus named after Larkin. More long-lasting will be the Larkin Trail, a tour of East Yorkshire's Larkin-related cultural spots, supported by a new History Centre which is going to house the University's archives on Larkin and Hull's history.

But what about the reputation Larkin seems to have gained as a racist, or a middle-class snob who looked down on Hull's locals? A quick trawl through the comments left on a Hull Daily Mail article about the proposed statue reveals a variety of opinion and some of it's quite hostile. But, like it or not, Larkin is an important cultural figure – for Britain, not just Hull – and he chose to spend thirty years of his life here. Midlander though he was, his is a name strongly linked with Hull and the University, and his later work is embedded firmly in the East Riding.

Quoting Larkin's poetic description of Hullians, Booth comments that “ I don't think it's accurate to say that it has any kind of middle-class condescension about it; there's a common humanity about it”. As for being racist, the Professor tells me “ If you look at his life, his actions, you realise actually he was a lifelong liberal humanist – not the right-wing bigot that he occasionally parodied himself as being”, and compares Larkin to the Roman orator Cicero, who also “ got into terrible trouble because he couldn't avoid a good joke [...] Larkin does this; when he sees the pithiest, most extreme version of putting something, he'll do it”. He was politically incorrect, but not a racist.

What's exciting about Larkin 25 (apart from those toads) is that the Steering Group, chaired by Hull Emeritus Professor Graham Chesters (g.chesters@hull.ac.uk), is keen to have new ideas suggested. Already there are various student projects (in drama, photography, art and music) across the city. As Chesters says, the list of commemorative events is 'far from closed!'.


http://twitter.com/philiplarkin25


http://www.larkin25.com/

Ruddigore (Hull University G&S Society) Interview

Cowering in a corner whilst being tormented by the ghosts of my ancestors was hardly the way I'd expected to begin an interview with the director of Hull's Gilbert & Sullivan Society (HUGSS). It must just be what happens when you sit in on a rehearsal of this year's G&S show: Ruddigore; or, The Witch's Curse.

It was an experience – being surrounded by men jabbing fingers at me and generally tormenting me – that gave extra weight to what the show's director, Lucy Thomson-Smith, later told me about how keen the Society is on including in their activities anybody who's interested. 'I feel like it's always been quite a welcoming group. You know, if you can't sing, you can't dance, you can't act – we don't care, come and join us! We'll just have fun with it.'

That's not to say that the cast can't sing, dance or act – just that it isn't necessarily a priority of HUGSS. As Thomson-Smith says, 'it's always nice within the chorus that we have this interesting mix of people who are different ages and doing different courses and who have different abilities' and one of the challenges of HUGSS is working with a cast that doesn't necessarily have vast theatrical or musical experience.

The same is true of the show's principal roles. One of the more experienced principals is Rory Oliver, the leader of those men doing the tormenting earlier on. Near the beginning of the second half, he belts out the song that Thomson-Smith regards as the script's 'high point' – he certainly did it justice in the tiny rehearsal space in the Larkin building. 'The Night's High Noon is this fantastic song about the ghosts coming to life and enjoying themselves at night' which is crucial to the plot of Ruddigore.

Oliver plays the leader of the ancestors of the new Baronet of Ruddigore, Ruthven Murgatroyd, whose family line is cursed in such a way that means he has to commit a crime every day or be subject to more of the torments I endured in rehearsal. Understandably, Murgatroyd isn't happy about this family curse and does his best to get around it. This being a Gilbert & Sullivan show, there are several couples running around trying to get married to each other, before changing their minds and wanting to marry someone else. As Thomson-Smith explains the plot to me, I can see what she means when she says that this is 'a parody of Victorian melodrama, and it's Gilbert and Sullivan's opportunity to poke fun at that'.

Unlike previous HUGSS shows Ruddigore is far from the most well-known of G&S works. In a way, that's why Thomson-Smith has chosen to do it. 'A lot of G&S societies' she tells me, 'tend to revolve around the same productions. That's because everybody loves Pirates [HUGSS 2009 and 2005], Iolanthe [HUGSS 2008], HMS Pinafore [HUGSS 2007 and 2003] and The Mikado [HUGSS 2006].' HUGSS last performed Ruddigore in 1997. Far from being daunted, Thomson-Smith is excited because, 'it's got two fantastic songs in it already, and the more I looked into it, I thought 'this has got some really good songs in, it's got some really good creative opportunities to run with''.

Among those opportunities is the style she's chosen for Ruddigore. Following on from the last two HUGSS shows ('very successful, innovative productions [that] decided to do something different and non-traditional'), Thomson-Smith has put her own mark on the show. Believing that 'doing G&S as G&S doesn't work any more; it doesn't pull in an audience', she has exploited the fact that Ruddigore is 'quite gothic, it's got a scary edge but it's a dark comedy' and has taken an appropriate inspiration: Tim Burton.

Burton's work ties in especially well with the show's professional bridesmaids ('corpse bride figures...decaying and falling apart.') and a 'nervous and unassuming' male lead. 'Using a Tim Burton inspiration really, really works well with this and lends a modern edge to a traditional production'.

But above all, for Thomson-Smith 'HUGSS has always been about enthusiasm and the passion; people always want to turn up and want to have fun and they enjoy doing it – and I think that really comes across in the production'.


Ruddigore; or, The Witch's Curse runs in Middleton Hall on the 3rd, 5th and 6th of March at 7:30pm. Tickets are £6 for an adult, with £4 concessions.
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'Mankind' at Hull Uni

As an audience, we kind of knew where Hull Drama Department's Mankind was going once the first character started speaking.

As Emily Napier paced onstage, hands clasped in prayer, rosary beads knocking against the robes marking her out as a Dominican friar, the feeling grew that a message was coming to our souls. Then, she ascended the pulpit – the only notable thing on the stage, apart from the two paintings, depicting Heaven and Hell – and announced her name and intention. Okay, so to describe Napier's character as a character is a bit misleading. She's playing Mercy, and that's not her name; it's what she is.

See, Mankind is a Medieval Morality play, and they were never big on individual characters and plot lines. Instead, the Morality play depicts personifications of broader concepts usually involved in some cosmic struggle for the soul of, well, mankind. It's where the idea of an Everyman comes from. In this case, Mankind is a character – played with a curiously brazen naivete by Felicity Rankin, until her final scene when the full weight of her wrong doing is evident in every sob and shake of her shoulders – over whom Jen Clarke's leery, crooked jester Mischief fights with Mercy.

As is standard Morality practice, Mankind faces temptation to leave his work and abandon his prayers, and thus his duty to God. That God is – though never seen – present throughout, the Dominican friars' motto 'Veritas', Latin for 'truth', being emblazoned across the back of a largely bare stage. It's a bareness that really focuses attention on the battle that is essentially happening within the soul or mind of each of us: the battle between toiling for the common good and indulging in personal enjoyment. That temptation takes the form of three representatives of worldly pleasure: Andrew Fowler's Newguise, who threatens to steal the show, Harriet Entwhistle's deceptively charming Nowadays and Ami Dawson's Nought, who relishes every chance to speak filth on stage.

Don't be fooled by the idea of the Morality play being nice and clean – it's a lesson to us sinners about what we should avoid. So the three worldly pleasures get to party for most of their stage time, and even bring in Jessica Duffield's imposing Titivillus (the Devil, to you and me). That lesson makes the church's presence painfully clear. Mankind isn't quite propaganda, though it's probably a good example of the Catholic church using art to persuade people that worship (in a church, not on your own terms) is a Very Good Thing. Mischief's greatest victory seems to be in persuading Mankind not to attend morning prayers – even though an omnipotent God would surely hear a prayer wherever it was said...

In the end, that may be Mankind's failing as a modern piece of theatre. It's far from subtle, and the word 'preachy' seems dying to attach itself to every moment of the stage time – not only during Mercy's sermons. Don't get me wrong, Napier delivers some very heartfelt moments without ever being patronising, but ultimately this is a piece of theatre designed to remind the masses what they owe to their overlords in the Catholic church, who very kindly mediate between them and their God.

When Napier enters, hundreds of years of theatrical history are wiped away, and we've been taken back to the didactic, characterless drama that went out of fashion around Shakespeare's time. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but this does function as a bit of a museum piece. It's interesting as a means of looking back at where later drama came from – for example English drama's move toward representative characters in increasingly realistic settings, before making the characters increasingly realistic too. Also – crushingly, for this performance – the power of the Catholic church and an audience's fear of God aren't what they were, which takes away much of this play's sting. Pity, really.

A Christmas Carol @ Hull Uni

Just before Christmas, Hull's Drama Department gives us yet another production of that perennial festive favourite: A Christmas Carol.


It seems to be especially common this year, with Scarborough's SJT, London's Southwark Playhouse and Birmingham's REP (among others, probably) tackling the famous tale of Scrooge and the spirits that visit him and turn him from an anti-Christmas miser into a man whole-heartedly embracing his fellow humanity at Christmas. Oh, and there's Jim Carey and that film version. Dickens is still a popular festive choice in other cases, as Bolton Octagon's Oliver Twist shows.


Scrooge's supernatural transformation never strikes me as entirely plausible, so it's a tribute to Joel Redgrave's acting that he almost makes his Scrooge believable. Only almost though – the fault lying with Dickens' ghost story, not Redgrave. What he does do is capture the physicality of the stooped, aged man who has spent his life on building his business in Victorian London. He is warned by the ghost of his old friend (though Scrooge never appears (here or in Dickens) as the sort of man to have friends) Jacob Marley – here played by Jonathan Miles with a commanding presence despite the lights not being set to hit his face. He picks up several other roles later on with aplomb and gusto, featuring as a highlight alongside Redgrave's Scrooge, both of them sensitive to the comedy in Bryan Hodgson's script (80% of which he claims is from Dickens).


For those of you who don't know, Scrooge is visited on Christmas Eve by three Ghosts of Christmas (the Ghost of Christmas Past, Christmas Present (snigger) and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come) who show him scenes from their respective Christmasses in an effort to remove Scrooge's virulent misanthropy and hatred of the festive season. So Dickens ticks two boxes by having a ghost story that is also heart-warming and re-affirms the joy of Christmas and human companionship. Well done, Charles.


But it's hard to know if you should blame Dickens or adaptor/director Hodgson for the fat on the bone of this Christmas offering from Hull Uni. Dickens is always a bit wordy and takes his time with plots, which undermines Hodgson's stage production. Part of me wants to blame Dickens for the occasionally slow pace and slack moments, but Hodgson must take some responsibility for not cutting and trimming his source material. Adding in a whole bunch of traditional carols adds a certain nostalgic feel to the piece, but also creates several halts in the action that really aren't needed.


It's lucky that the large ensemble cast don't let the clunky revolve and scene changes slow them down nor damp their vigour too much. Their (surprisingly modern) choreography is still dashed off with skill and enthusiasm. Also coming up well out of some dubiously staged moments are the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present (Sian Bennett and Huw Allen). Alas, Scrooge's maid is underused, played as she is by an actress (Elizabeth Perry) very much in tune with the comedy under her brief scenes – it's lucky that she gets to shine as Miles' exuberant wife Mrs Fezziwig as well.


Rather like most of Dickens' work, this is longer that it really needs to be, and the transfer to the stage hasn't done much to smooth over those imperfections. But there are some strong central performances and some of the singing is pretty good.

These Things Take Time for Cunning Linguists - from October 2009's Hullfire (who said I had to upload in chronological order?)

Hull's Drama Department is definitely not playing it safe this month.

There is a wealth of plays that the Drama Department could choose to perform, classics that have been tried and tested (and done to death) or well-known, safe favourites that are hard to get wrong onstage. But University is a place to learn, to develop, to be brave and daring, to innovate. Rather than take an easy option with an established writer, the Department is giving its stage to two new, young student writers who will also direct their work.

At the end of October, Samuel Lannacombe Oliver's These Things Take Time will play alongside Thomas E. Peel's Cunning Linguists [later changed to The Various Voices of a Cunning Linguist] as a double-bill. Both shows will run each night, one after the other, which presents its own set of challenges to the casts and crew. Most challenging for Oliver is condensing his full-length play down to an hour: “I'd already finished the script before I was given the slot, and it was over an hour long. so I've had to do a lot of cutting. I've got rid of bits I quite liked, but the constant re-reading does mean I've cut bits that were rubbish and put in better bits.” Sharing the performance space each night means that both shows are low on set and have a split budget – two challenges Peel highlights along with saying that “the pressure is on due to the fact that we have written the scripts - the buck stops with us as writers and directors.”

Oliver sums up his play as being about “struggling to write, girls and weird friends”. It centres on Lloyd Karamazov, a TV writer hired to spice up a show's failing second series, and earned Oliver a First in the Scriptwriting Module – so it must be good! He quotes as inspiration things like Jeffrey Brown's 'Girlfriend' trilogy, Mary Chase's Harvey, Fear of Projection, The Goon Show, High Fidelity, Brief Encounter, The Philadelphia Story, Kind Hearts and Coronets, All About Eve and Buster Keaton films. Style-wise, it's an “amalgamation of all the things that inspired me when writing the play. So I hope that the final performance will be a mix of all the styles I've enjoyed, in an exciting and accessible way. Oh, and there's some creative swearing.”

Peel's play is harder to pin down, “I think my play's called Cunning Linguists, I say 'think', as it hasn't named itself yet. My friend suggested Cunning Linguists which seemed witty enough, but perhaps one day it will stop its tantrum and tell me what it wants to be called.” As the plot revolves around not a love triangle but a 'love scribble' and manipulation of language – using language as an “art form that very few people take the trouble to master” - with healthy doses of sex and lust, that seems a very appropriate title. Say it quickly and spot the innuendo in a phrase that's about wordplay – like a pun within a pun. It's inspired by things like “ Wilde, G.B Shaw, pre-Raphealites, aestheticism, Terry Pratchett, Johnny Cooper Clarke, Morrissey, Simon Armitage and films like Rebel Without a Cause, West Side Story, Johnny Got His Gun, The Great Escape, Pygmalion/My Fair Lady.”

Both writers have drawn on a little autobiographical material for their plays – Peel describing his as “basically the two voices in my head put into a story.” One is “driven, knows not what he wants but that he wants something different from everybody else” while the other is “ racked by insecurities, he is repressed but only by himself, and feels like he is an echo inside his own skin.” Alongside such characters, it's easy to see why Peel claims his script “shits on the liberal types in the same sentence as the conservative types.” Oliver's gentler, lightly self-deprecating approach means that his play avoids being “boring and full of awkward misunderstandings and tentative accidents (like my own life)” by being “exciting and full of awkward misunderstandings and tentative accidents (unlike my own life) with amusing characters and the like.”

I asked both men why we should go and see their double bill. Peel says that one of his characters can “bring societal conventions and norms and throw them on their head - he has some odd views which are bound to cause controversy, especially with you ladies.” Then there's “seeing a monkey-hanger (a Hartlepoolian) in a thong, the best chat-up line in the world, the worst puns in the world, being able to tell me exactly what you thought about it after over a pint, and if all goes to plan the longest beer-funnel you will probably ever see” not to mention the after-show party.

Oliver answered: “a theatrical double bill is quite a unique experience. One ticket: two plays. Isn't that nice? These Things Take Time should be seen because it's good fun. a quick-paced romp through all the little trials and tribulations we face from friendly colleagues, aggravating co-workers, pretty strangers and wishful fantasies. Also, I have a very good-looking cast and there may be partial nudity...which is always a seller.”

Both shows have already been learning curves for their writers, which means they've achieved part of their purpose. The final part is for them to entertain the masses, you lot. So, an opportunity to take in some culture, to support not only the learning of fellow students but also their future careers, and some possible nudity (which always perks an evening up). Add in an after-show party on the Saturday, and this could be a perfect student night out.

'Journey's End' at Hull Uni

Review scheduled to appear in October's Hullfire - our University Drama Society again (a review of their show is not the place to go into the things that put me off the Society, but there are several):

The First World War was a pretty long slog, let's be honest. WWI famously should have been 'over by Christmas'. Shame then, that trench warfare forced troops into long periods of waiting with not very much to do, before sudden action.

R. C. Sheriff's play – Journey's End – demonstrates this perfectly, showing five British officers waiting for Germany's final all-or-nothing 1918 offensive. What destroyed men's nerves in the trenches was the fear in the waiting – the dread that struck while doing nothing – and a life characterised by peaks and troughs, long periods of idleness followed by brief spurts of violence. The troughs – the long, seemingly endless hours of time-wasting and hanging about, drinking or smoking or eating low-quality rations – are what the Drama Society bring to Asylum's stage.

That accuracy is both the strength and the fatal flaw of any production of this script; the long periods of apparent nothingness are unavoidable. What's pleasantly surprising is that this cast mine as much humour and lightness as possible from the script, so the desperately slow, long sections aren't as bad as they might be.

This particular production relies on the central duo of Stanhope and Osborne (no program, so actors' names are a mystery), who between them dominate the stage – Stanhope like a boiling kettle, ready to blow at a moment's notice (rather like the war itself), Osborne as a kindly uncle figure, smooth and calm. Trotter – as a common man in the officers' world – is a breath of fresh air in more ways than one.

That strength makes weakness elsewhere stand out, and this production suffers from being too slow and – therefore – long. It also has cringe-worthy speeches from a director who can be confident enough in his cast to not set the scene himself.

'Never Enough' at Hull Uni - my second viewing

It has to be said, that while it wasn't massively different, I enjoyed Never Enough much more in Hull than in Scarborough. It's probably something to do with a home audience being more willing to laugh and play along than a more demanding NSDF audience, but - in their defence - RashDash have improved this show in the last month.
They also didn't lynch me, despite me being on the front row. So that was nice. The review's short, because the show hasn't changed much since I last reviewed it:


RashDash Theatre return to their home venue in Hull University's Donald Roy Theatre with a show – Never Enough – that hasn't changed massively since its airing at NSDF09.

The award-winning choreography is still present, still vibrant, still vital and alive. At times, it feels a little tired, but maybe that's just familiarity with the material. It's not that the pace flags – it doesn't – it just all seems a bit familiar, like these are the moves RashDash have been doing all their lives (and can be seen in their previous work, not only Strict Machine but other Hull shows). But there's nothing wrong with carving a niche and playing to your strengths.

Thankfully, the story has been trimmed a little since NSDF09, and doesn't feel quite so long as it once did. This may be partly due to proceedings being whipped along a little quicker now too. The biggest change though is that Never Enough – which raised the one giggle at NSDF09 – is at Hull genuinely funny. Played for laughs, it enjoys a much higher degree of success than it did as a dance/physical piece.

What struck me while watching Never Enough for my second time was that it's a piece of theatre that has nearly everything in it. RashDash tell their story using most of the tools available to them in their dramatic toolbox. The movement and dance serves to demonstrate the subtext of the characters presented through dialogue, while their monologues (like the conversation between Helen Goalen's Becca and her own thoughts, voiced by Abbi Greenland) shed light on their inner lives. Considering the opening of their earlier work, Strict Machine, it's a shame there's no similar singing in Never Enough – it's the only big thing missing.

When performers respond to reviews - RashDash and 'Never Enough'

It's always interesting when someone you've reviewed talks to you about said review. Partly, it's the knowledge that, actually, the stuff we people write does get read...that's reassuring. But partly, it's the knowledge that someone has read what you've said and thought about it – probably because it applies so much to them.

Now, I've been in trouble over reviews in the past (when a company objected to their work being referred to as 'physical theatre'), but today I found it seems to have happened on a bigger scale than before. What makes this amusing – rather like the last time this happened – is that the company in question seems to have misunderstood the review in question. In fairness, that makes it sound like I've not been clear enough, but performers don't usually have problems with 'getting' what I say.

One of the companies performing at this year's NSDF claim that I wrote their worst review...which surprised me because I thought mine was pretty positive. In fact, I really enjoyed their show, rather like I enjoyed the show they'd entered the year before. The fact that RashDash Theatre Company is from my own University is irrelevant. Still, if my review was the worst thing written about them, they must have done pretty well on the whole – and let's not overlook their joint award for most popular show at the Festival.

But it's interesting that the company of Never Enough should take such objection to what I wrote.
My first comment about the company itself is:

'what is worth noting – and commending – is the fact that RashDash have been
selected for NSDF in a second consecutive year.'

I draw special attention to the word 'commending'.

RashDash might then have taken issue with my point that their energetic show borrows from different dance styles. Possibly. But at no point have I said that it's a bad thing, as I think it's quite a good thing.

Then, a few lines later:

'This is a company that has invested time and effort in perfecting their
physical technique; they gel together beautifully, moving fluidly and easily
around each other'.

I'm struggling to see how this is their worst review, when some people really didn't like Never Enough.

Apparently, they don't like the idea that I've claimed their acting wasn't very good. This response to the review surprised me, as I was pretty sure I hadn't said it; there's not much to fault in their acting. So, I re-read said review.

'as is so often the case, these dancers aren't so hot on acting. None of the
trio can quite hold their own when delivering monologues [...] It's not that
Graham's description of his dream house isn't interesting, it just pales away
when compared with the drive and passion of his dance work.'

By which I mean that their dance work is better than their acting. That doesn't mean their acting is bad. It's just not their strongest point.

'it's a testament to the strength of the ensemble that no individual is able to
stand out.'

is also no bad thing.

But thinking about it, I gather the cast aren't keen on being referred to as 'dancers', for some reason. I don't know why, as all three excel in that field, and much of their work has a distinctly 'dancey' feel to it. Maybe they objected to my comparing their show – loosely – to the BBC's Mistresses in the way it balanced several stories at once. Once again, that's no bad thing; it's what I love about Mistresses.

Still, Never Enough is being performed again at the University of Hull tonight and tomorrow – so I'm told. Hopefully, when I turn up, they won't throw me the seemingly angry looks they threw me at NSDF. Personally, I look forward to seeing how they've changed the show in the month or so since NSDF.

Stags & Hens at Hull University

This is the first show I've seen Hull's Drama Society do, and I feel a tad guilty that I should have seen more. I mean, it's hardly fair to judge them on the basis of Stags & Hens alone. But then, this didn't exactly grab me. A fairly brief review follows:

What sort of theatre do you put on when your venue is a nightclub? Plays set in nightclubs, of course. Hull University Drama Society's latest offering is Willy Russell's Stags & Hens, which takes place entirely in the toilets of a cheap, run-down nightclub (in the play, that is – the actual club is fine).

Now, the problem here is that – as stated – the whole thing happens in the toilets. Apart from the last scene, nothing really happens anywhere else. Unfortunately, this makes the Drama Society's production pretty static and stolid. Characters move about a bit when they say something, occasionally moving from the sofa to a standing position, or one stock pose to another. The group of girls alternate between preening and (often aggressive) hip-wiggling as forms of expression, while the lads give off a slightly misplaced bravado that isn't endearing.

What happens in the last five or ten minutes though, acts as a massive shot in the arm of an otherwise tired piece, and I wished the rest of the show had run like that. Suddenly, there was pace and there was action, there was genuine feeling on stage and there was laughter that came from the acting not just the lines. Pity it took so long to get to this point. The violence that comes unquestioned provides a real lift, but I couldn't help wondering about the women standing mutely by while their friend was attacked – what was all that about mates sticking together? I'm no Feminist, but it got my hackles up.

What Stags & Hens does do is give us a picture of a youth culture just growing into its self-confidence – clubbing youngsters being brought into adulthood by chance rather than necessarily by actual maturity, youth ageing because of outside circumstances. In some ways, it's very much in the mould of Bouncers. But Stags... is much less upbeat – it's positively bitter about marriage, which is a crucial background to a play telling the story of a Stag and a Hen night. In fact, you've got to wonder what Russell's got against the 'institute for the blind', as marriage is called at one point.