In a recent post, Andrew Haydon has speculated about the number of theatre-related blogs which, for a variety of reasons, have recently become dormant. On top of which, David Eldridge is now probably sick of the number of valedictory e-mails and posts mourning the departure of One Writer And His Dog. Perhaps the diminishing blogosphere has cast a shadow over my own lack of activity in the last couple of weeks, or maybe I’ve just been too damn lazy as there’s been plenty to see, do and think about, but it would be a shame to think that what Haydon refers to as the “contracting” blogosphere was related to a contracting desire amongst people to engage in, talk about and riff around the subject of theatre in whatever patch they inhabit.
I don’t think I’ve been alone in finding it useful as a way of exchanging ideas and keeping up to date with what’s going on in places that I can’t get to right now. What is interesting to me, however, is the number of people in the industry that, it seems, now pore over every post on such sites as a way of gleaning gossip and inside info. On the one hand, people seem addicted to the sense of personal acquaintance that seems to be on offer, but, on the other hand, most seem disinclined to reciprocate. Of course, life is too short for some people to move beyond their own anonymity and not everyone is interested in offering up their opinions, but it interests me that individuals in the arts are now so enthusiastic about Facebook groups and YouTube shorts and yet so unwilling to reveal much about what they are actually thinking. Happy for such innovations to be adapted to marketing, it seems to me that they would be horrified to be found saying what they really think.
Another example of this trend is demonstrated by the Theatre In Wales website - until recently an essential part of the opinion forming around theatre in these parts, but, for over a year or more now, its discussion forum has seemed pretty much moribund. No doubt, this is related to people getting fed up with the anonymous ranting and the virtual duffing up that passes for argument, but, in my mind at least, there is also a prevailing anxiety about speaking out in case one gets targetted. As I have argued before, this becomes a serious issue when there is such a deficit of dialogue from artists about their concerns. Unlike London, where a critical mass of opinion is relatively easy to generate, the sheer geography of Wales contributes to a theatre sector that suffers from what I can only describe as a lack of coherent leadership within the arts and true dialogue with itself.
Anyway, I mentioned that there had been plenty to see, do and think about…
First off the bat was Sherman Cymru’s Springboard/Egin festival between April 11-20. I went to a few things over the first weekend and particularly enjoyed Alan Harris’ verbatim play about the closure of the Burberry factory in Treorchy. The presence of some of the women involved in the protests against the closure gave an added dimension to the performance, as they were clearly so moved to see and hear their experiences represented. Assembly Member Leighton Andrews was also in the audience to re-live the campaign that he and Labour MP Chris Bryant (brilliantly portrayed with a mixture of other-worldliness and outright narcissism by Derek Hutchinson) had fought so tenaciously and imaginatively to keep in the public eye. It was appalling to realise the complacent arrogance with which Burberry treated its workforce, but the campaign team’s cunning exploitation of this complacency was at the heart of its success, not least the way in which they used the commercial “face” of Burberry, Welsh actor Ioan Gruffudd, to turn opinion against them. By the end of the saga, Burberry seemed desperate to settle, but that humiliation was nothing compared to the people who had worked ther whole lives in the factory and now saw little chance of ever being employed again. Globalised employment conditions may be easily absorbed in certain parts of the country, but, unfortunately, different criteria apply in Treorchy.
That said, I’m slightly dubious about the term “festival,” which for many under-utilised dramatists here in Wales is not so much ironic, as a pointed display of black-edged gallows humour. Of course, as an opportunity for work-in-progress to be tested and to develop some collegiality among individual writers, there is some obvious benefit. For audiences, on the other hand, the offer is more complicated and, perhaps, on the evidence of the events I attended, obscure.
However, many people remember Made In Wales’ annual Write On Festival at The Sherman in the mid-Nineties and the sold out buzz that accompanied the work that was being presented then, so the continuing lack of opportunity for writers to receive full productions of their work and the increasing numbers of “emerging” writers without a viable platform on which to build a career, definitely contributes to a widespread feeling of weary cynicism, particularly amongst playwrights, that is acknowledged here.
Weary cynicism was not the order of the day at this month’s Dirty Protest (aka Dirty Protest 4), however. Its organisers certainly know a thing or two about how to reach an audience and their sheer ebulliance is both infectious and engaging. With the declared aim of “starting a revolution” against “stuffy theatre,” there is much to admire in its guerrilla tactics and disarming have-a-go energy. While pointedly referring to the ongoing lack of opportunity for writers and directors, Dirty Protest is confidently mapping out a future programme of eclectic one-nighters that includes the Latitude Festival, the National Eisteddfod and a new Cardiff venue, Ten Feet Tall. While the writing is inevitably of variable quality and, as I have argued before, the energy it offers can never be a replacement for the kind of dynamic critical mass that Cardiff’s theatre so desperately requires, it’s impact is great while it lasts.
At Dirty Protest 4 (and on Facebook), the company were looking for support by asking people to fill in the rest of a sentence: “I think the Arts Council should give Dirty Protest cash because…” Unfortunately, the past efforts of similarly energetic and unfunded groups have fizzled out because the Arts Council has found it so easy to ignore that implicit demand. As Alan Davey, the new Chief Executive of ACE, has bravely announced that funding for his organisation’s new set of priorities is going to be found from a 15% saving in ACE’s administrative costs, I wonder what ACW is thinking.
I was back in London for a day or so last week and spent Thursday evening at Soho Theatre, watching the press night of Suspect Culture and Graeae’s collaboration on Dan Reballato’s Static. Subsequently, the reviews have been genuinely mixed and, while Lyn Gardner offers a perceptive and sensitive critique of its different layers here, I had my own reservations. Both female characters felt drastically underwritten and, given that one of the women was, in effect, driving the narrative (as she sought to uncover the hidden meaning behind a mysterious compilation tape) it felt severely unbalanced. It seemed as if the playwright had so enjoyed the character of Martin (the deceased’s best friend) in his comic obsession with music ephemera there wasn’t much room for anyone else. That said, there were some cherishably funny lines and some touching moments. Suspect Culture are well known for the quality of their mixed-media work and Graeae are pushing the boundaries for disabled performers, but, unfortunately, I found the denoument played out to Rufus Wainwright’s already melodramatic Agnus Dei overblown and secondhand.
DV8’s new production, on the other hand, To Be Straight With You is quite simply breathtaking. I could spend forever trying to describe to you how much I enjoyed it, but – don’t worry – I won’t. Whatever you do, just go and see it. It’s genius.
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