The Pillowman at NSDF10 (from Noises Off)

You know, high art and culture are actually the most dangerous and subversive things in modern society. All of this art malarkey seems just as likely to inspire virtue, charity etc. in a person as it does hatred and violence.

A few months ago, a student at my University declared in print that World of Warcraft is notorious for turning players into social pariahs and slovenly wretches – but that's not the only negative effect has on its viewers. More frequently shoot-'em-up games that allow the player to inhabit a violent persona have been linked to an increase in violent crime (as has Hip-Hop, with its glorification of gang turf and guns, cf. In Loving Memory).

In The Pillowman, the idea is that the high artform of the short story is responsible for encouraging horrific crimes. That same student claimed that chess had resulted in more 20th-century deaths than any computer game – which goes to show that you shouldn't believe everything you read. Unfortunately, some people are more susceptible than others to the malign power of art and literature.

It's a malign power that disguises itself in a softer guise (ie. a man made of pillows); appearances are deeply deceptive in this totalitarian world. For a play so obsessed with story-telling (cf. Bad House), there is a surprisingly high number of untrustworthy narrators on display. It's not just the Police that are untrustworthy, but also the supposedly innocent and those that haven't done anything they think is wrong (let's be honest, not a one of them is really innocent).

Martin McDonagh's play might over-state art's prosecution case by making the victim of art's influence a mentally-handicapped person, but James Gamage's sensitive performance keeps this plausible. Undeniably, the dependence Gamage's character has on his brother invests an even heavier moral burden on Chris Cains' Katurian – the artist whose graphic and gruesome words instigate crime, and the brother who must protect and nurture his mentally-handicapped sibling. He is more responsible than most artists accused of inspiring crime, and his plight is so much more interesting for that.

McDonagh's richly dark comic play is a terrifying portrayal of a totalitarian state that refuses to afford rights to its citizens. Its citizens have a twisted set of morals – a world where it's okay for parents to torture their children for years without their other children noticing, and for that to be reflected in the short stories written by the survivors.

Celebrities and Star Power

An article on the use of celebrity casting, written for May edition of Hull University's Student Magazine, Hullfire. I thank a friend of mine for the idea of writing said article, which he mentioned to me at the West Yorkshire Playhouse while we were watching Lenny Henry in Othello.


In 1996 a young Scottish actor joined the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-upon-Avon to play Touchstone in As You Like It. He already had a modest string of stage roles to his name, having performed with Scottish theatre company 7:84 – he'd even had a role in a BBC serial. He stayed with the world of theatre until 2006 (at London's Royal Court and National Theatre as well as the RSC), when he landed a larger TV role.


But when David Tennant returned to the RSC in 2008 to play Hamlet, some observers criticised his casting as merely an RSC headline-grabbing stunt. The criticism was that theatreland was becoming obsessed with stardom, and producers were no longer willing to take risks on shows that had no star power.


Respected director Sir Jonathan Miller found that interest in his Sheffield production of Chekhov's The Cherry Orchard faded when it was revealed that star Joanna Lumley couldn't perform in the West End run – without her, the run was cancelled. Miller – in a Times article of June 2008 – complained that producers (especially those in London) were attracted by 'the merely famous' of a show, and not the quality. For this reason, he believed, London audiences were missing some high-quality theatre which lacked star power. Certainly, as the West End becomes filled with screen stars wanting to have a go on a stage, and musicals that thrive on being stuffed with well-known hits, it's getting increasingly difficult for more traditional plays with lesser-known casts to get on in London.


The trouble is that theatre is increasingly costly, and no producer wants to risk an experimental project with a bunch of kids who've had a bit of success in a regional theatre when they could invest in a sure fire hit with one instantly recognisable face from TV. It takes massive audience numbers to justify West End runs these days, and theatres desperately need the pulling power offered by names like Tennant's.



But Tennant is an interesting case; he started out as a stage actor, and returned from the world of TV. This is what makes Miller's dismissal of his Hamlet so unfair. Miller doesn't give any credit to the fact that Tennant isn't just a famous face; he's a very talented and engaging actor, whose Hamlet may not have been ground-breaking but was exactly what the RSC needed to boost ticket sales and energise the Company after their gruelling Complete Works Season.
Tennant's sometime screen partner John Barrowman is another star name who is used to reinvigorate theatre sales; his star turns have been the been the main draw in the pantos at the Birmingham Hippodrome for a couple of years now.


Lately, celebrity casting has been on the increase, with comedian Lenny Henry's pleasantly surprising turn as Othello for the Northern Broadsides covered in March's Hullfire, and Marc Warren starring in The Pillowman in Leicester. In March, Sir Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart started touring Beckett's revolutionary Waiting for Godot.


Most notably – though at the risk of over-emphasising London's place at the centre of the theatre world – there is a current season at London's Donmar Warehouse that features big names at affordable prices. Kenneth Branagh and Derek Jacobi have already won Critics' Circle Awards (Jacobi's Shakespearean Performance Award being held jointly with Tennant's Hamlet) for their roles in Ivanov and Twelfth Night, while Jude Law's Hamlet opens on May 29th. Judi Dench currently leads the cast of Madame de Sade, tickets for which can be bought for just £10. That's right: a West End show – with Dame Judi Dench – for as little as £10!



This is where celebrity casting can be invaluable, and more theatres should take note of what the Donmar is doing. This season is an excellent way of drawing in both younger audiences and older ones used to recognisable screen actors – by getting them to good, cheap theatre, the Donmar whets their appetite for similar work. If using quality star names is what it takes to keep theatres afloat, then people like Miller should have on objection – assuming they want to still have an industry to work in five years from now.

'The Pillowman' at Leicester's Curve Theatre

Seeing Marc Warren in one of the first productions staged by Leicester's innovative new Curve Theatre made me think again about the different merits of the stage and the small screen.

That was a surprising thing to be thinking about, because I'd expected the venue to be the most interesting part of the afternoon. The Curve is a brand-new addition to Leicester's Cultural Quarter, which is all about breaking down audience/performer barriers with its glass and perspex walls. Passers-by can see into the foyer, which stretches around the theatre like a long, round corridor. What's even more unnerving is the unreserved seating – which I'm sure is bound to lead to some fights for the best seats. This is one venue where it really pays to get there early and start the queue at the door. Oh, and apparently, the theatre's walls can slide up out of the way.

Entering the theatre – a fairly normal three-sided stage effort – for Paul Kerryson's The Pillowman, the audience has to pass several prison cells, following a winding and disorientating route that sets up Warren's first few lines beautifully – he is confused and doesn't understand why he's been pulled into this prison. There's a cage and a deep buzzing noise, all very unnerving, very dark and very apt.

This entry and the need for interpersonal interaction in the polite, civilised scrabble for seats are two of the things that I think the Curve has over the small screen. TV doesn't allow for the identification with a prisoner's plight that the cells in that twisting corridor do, nor does a living room have the community feeling of a couple of hundred people who've shared the queue and barely disguised greed of grabbing the best seats.

Also, there's nothing like a live audience for comedy, and Martin McDonagh's script is certainly funny. Yes, it's incredibly dark, yet it manages to be both brilliantly scary and blackly funny in almost the same breath. While occasionally being over-wordy, The Pillowman is otherwise a really bleak investigation into the responsibility of writers and the influence their work has on others – with an awful lot of child abuse. It is sharply staged, with an almost bare stage managing to convey the claustrophobic feel of a prison in a totalitarian state.

Marc Warren – who looks about thirty but is actually at least a decade older – plays Katurin, one of the contenders for the honour of being the Pillowman of the title. Katurin the writer has been pulled in by a brutal police and accused of child murders bearing striking resemblances to his twisted and gruesome short stories. Warren is best known for his TV work – most notably Hustle and Mutual Friends – and it shows onstage. His voice doesn't seem suited to the stage, booming out as though he's struggling with projecting beyond the range of a camera microphone. Strangely, this sort of delivery works well for the hyper-reality of the short stories he recites with a touch of humour shining through the macabre elements.

TV has nothing on the reversal when Katurin's special needs brother makes a terrible confession – it's a moment TV would cut away from, but in a theatre that silence is agonising...and beautiful.