Review: Holy Land (Elegy Theatre, GM Fringe)

Thursday 18th July 2019
The Empty Space (formerly Footlights House)

This year’s Greater Manchester Fringe is on from 1st-31st July. I’m continuing my reviews of a selection of this year’s festival programme on this blog and on North Manchester FM. The next play I saw was Holy Land by Elegy Theatre, which was on at The Empty Space (formerly Footlights House) in Salford, on Thursday 18th July. You can hear my radio review of this play on today’s Hannah’s Bookshelf on North Manchester FM. Here’s the blog version of the review…

Holy Land is written by Matthew Gouldesbrough and directed by Patrick Medway, and it stars Gouldesbrough, Rick Romero and Hannah Morrison. The show’s blurb promises a story about ‘the dark side of the internet’ – but, to be honest, Holy Land is about something even darker than the dark web: humanity.

I’ll say up front that this is the most disturbing show I’ve seen at this year’s Fringe so far. Don’t get me wrong, it was the promise of darkness that attracted me in the first place (which says a lot about my tastes, really!), but Holy Land went to places that even I hadn’t anticipated.

The play presents three separate stories, each told through a monologue by one of the characters. None of the stories are linear in chronology and, in fact, they don’t initially appear to be stories at all. The set is simply a set of screens in the middle of the stage, which periodically interrupt the action with screeches, static and bursts of montages about internet danger, social media and morality. The physical separation of the performers on stage – they often stand in opposing corners of the performance space, or cross over past one another without making contact – and the sparseness of the set serve to make the stage area seem worryingly large. I’ve been to shows at Footlights House (now The Empty Space) before, but I don’t remember it seeming so disconcertingly big.

Gouldesbrough plays Tim, who introduces us to Holy Land – a website he runs that contains the ‘worst’ videos on the internet. Despite numerous references to the dark web during the play, the unsettling thing about Holy Land is that it’s a site on the surface web. Easily accessible and – as Tim assures us – completely legal.

Tim’s introduction to the website is intercut with the introduction to Kate, played by Morrison, a young woman who gabbles cheerfully and rather naively about – amongst other things – Meal Deal sandwiches. And by Romero’s Jon, a man who appears to have just bought a gun on the internet.

Tim’s description of Holy Land and, more importantly, the consumer desire it’s capitalizing on sets us up for a rather intense exploration of the limits (or lack thereof) of human morality. As he reminds us several times, actions have consequences – but Tim seems notably detached from the potential consequences of his own actions. It’s a disconcertingly convincing sales pitch, which uses the fictional website to offer some pointed commentary on the state of the current internet and social media.

However, Holy Land is more than a diatribe about the evils of the web. As the fragmented and distorted narration(s) unfold, it becomes clear that the play is a complex and cerebral piece of storytelling with strong roots in older traditions of theatrical tragedy. Tim’s sales pitch gives way to a story about his childhood, and about a particular encounter with a young man he describes as ‘evil’.

Meanwhile, Jon’s monologue about guns and explosives becomes interwoven with a story about a troubled and broken marriage, which (for all its philosophical and existential style) actually conjures some well-realized characters and situations that almost – almost – introduce a little lighter humour into the proceedings. While Holy Land doesn’t really use much comedy – except of the darkest possible kind – the tonal variations in Jon’s story give a sense of texture to what is quite an unrelenting tale. Gouldesbrough’s writing is assured throughout, and there is a confident sense of control to the narration.

I don’t want to say too much about how the three stories unfold and converge, or about how Kate’s monologue fits into the overall story. As always, I don’t like to give story spoilers – but in this case I also don’t want to spoil the experience of the story. The moments of realization I felt as I came to understand connections and implications were a big part of my enjoyment of the show.

‘Enjoyment’ is a strange term to use to describe a play as dark as Holy Land. With repeated reference to violence, rape, pornography and voyeurism, Holy Land doesn’t shy away from content that many might find distressing (and there are explicit trigger warnings posted outside the theatre). Nevertheless, I did enjoy the play. Gouldesbrough’s intelligent and assertive script is well-directed by Medway, who makes excellent use of the performance space and the movements of the three performers to create an atmosphere of bleak vastness that’s almost devoid of hope. A bank of screens and a small stool with a laptop on it doesn’t really give us much to cling to!

But I was really blown away by the performances. Morrison gives us with an intriguing and ultimately devastating performance as Kate, a young woman (and it’s never made clear exactly how young she is) who veers between childlike enthusiasm and a bitter sexuality that seems spurred on as much by spite as anything else. By contrast, Romero appears to offer a more balanced, calmer performance, exuding a nearly likable rationality, for all his bag of guns and bombs.

And Gouldesbrough… well, he is pretty memorable as Tim. Moving between terrifying and heart-breaking – and all points in between – Tim is a figure of tragedy, but also of horror. It’s an incredible performance from Gouldesbrough, and it’s hard not to feel some empathy at the play’s climax.

My only criticism – or perhaps question – about Holy Land is whether it really is a play about the dark side of the internet. When we eventually realize what story it is we’re following, it’s one of human depravity, morality and tragedy. Yes, the internet is used to monetize these things, but Holy Land’s story transcends the technology that surrounds it. (I’m not sure that is a criticism after all.)

Holy Land is an assured and devastating piece of theatre. It goes to some disturbing places, but with a confident sense of direction and narrative control. Elegy Theatre have created an impressive production here and – with a reminder of content warnings – it’s a strong recommendation from me.

Holy Land was on at The Empty Space on the 17th-19th July, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. It will be on at the Bedford Fringe on 21st-24th July, and the Camden Fringe on 2nd and 3rd August. For the full programme of events on at this year’s Greater Manchester, visit the festival website.

Review: skank (Clementine Bogg-Hargroves, GM Fringe)

Thursday 18th July 2019
TriBeCa, Manchester

The Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout July. I’m reviewing a selection of shows for this blog, and for North Manchester FM. The next show I saw was skank by Clementine Bogg-Hargroves, at TriBeCa in Manchester on Thursday 18th July. You can hear the radio version of this review on Saturday’s Hannah’s Bookshelf, but here’s the blog version…

skank is a one-woman show, written and performed by Bogg-Hargroves and directed by Zoey Barnes. It’s the story of Kate, a twenty-something office temp who has dreams of being a writer… and nightmares about her internal organs killing her. In many ways, this is a show about millennial angst and anxieties (which, admittedly, is something this Gen-Xer is sometimes a bit wary of) – but it’s also so much more than that. It’s an original and off-beat storytelling, with some really compelling and clever characterization.

The show begins with Kate – off-stage – arguing with someone about recycling. All she wants is to find the right bin to dispose of a baked bean tin, but sadly it’s not to be found. So, when Kate makes her entrance onto the stage, she has to bring the bean tin with her. This seemingly trivial and pointless interaction is our introduction to the character we’re about to spend just over an hour with, and it’s an effective one in its deceptive mundanity.

Kate works as a temp in an office. The type of office isn’t specified, because it really isn’t important. skank hits the right buttons to set a particular and familiar scene – it’s a boring job, and Kate believes it’s not her ‘real job’. She’s also pretty scathing of the people she works with – from the office ‘characters’ to her fellow temps.

Much of the first half of the show takes place at the office, with Kate interacting with various other characters, like Linda (who’s a bit full-on) and Sexy Gary (who is not). These conversations are conjured by Bogg-Hargroves through the use of recorded audio. On stage, she sits at a desk and interacts or responds to the voices that are playing (also performed by Bogg-Hargroves).

And it is very funny. While this might not be the most original setting for comedy, it’s a tried and tested one. Kate’s interactions with her fellow workers – including her facial expressions as their voice play – include some well-crafted jokes and a confident comic timing.

However, what I really enjoyed was the way skank very subtly set us up for something else. One of my favourite moments, early in the play, came after the first interaction with Linda. Linda just wants to be Kate’s friend and imagines herself as a bit of a joker. She bombards Kate with a serious of inane conversational gambits, before laughing (in a truly irritating way) and ending with a comment on how mad she is. Kate is superior in her mockery and annoyance at Linda… but then Sexy Gary arrives, and we see a mirroring interaction, in which Kate is inane and clumsy in her attempts to impress him with her ‘zany’ personality. This bit was neatly and cleverly done – an adept example of how to undermine your character while still getting the audience to love them.

skank is laugh-out-loud funny, and Bogg-Hargroves reveals a talent for both comedy writing and performance. But the show is not just funny. There is something going on under the surface with Kate – beyond her frustrations with her job and her inability to focus on her ambitions. Hints come in interactions with her brother, with whom she shares a house, that Kate finds life a bit more challenging than she’s so far let on.

Moving from silly and comical to serious is a difficult task for any show, particularly a one-act piece with a single set. skank does a great job at handling this tonal shift. In fact, the shift happens so smoothly you don’t notice it at first. The jokes keep coming, but the edge gets harder and harder. This culminates in two really powerful sequences (and I really don’t want to give any spoilers about them) in the second half of the play, which were both moving and painful to watch.

That the audience is carried along and invested in Kate’s story is testament to Bogg-Hargroves’s engaging and sympathetic performance style. Kate emerges as a believable and relatable character, for all her daft jokes and awkward missteps. By the end of the show, I was genuinely surprised how much I cared about Kate – and how much I cared about that pesky bean tin.

skank is a funny show infused with both honesty and a (sometimes filthy) confessional style. It’s also a showcase of the talents of a skilful writer and performer. Credit should also be given to Zoey Barnes’s direction, as the show makes clever use of its single – and deceptively simple – set. A sequence about a works night out (and again – no spoilers!) is particularly well-crafted – making very good use of lighting and sound design – and really takes the show to the next level.

Of the show’s I’ve seen so far at this year’s festival, the one that bears the closest comparison with skank is Gobby, Jodie Irvine’s one-woman show about a socially awkward young woman and her desperation to be heard. This comparison isn’t a criticism, though. Though there are some superficial similarities to the plays’ set-ups, Irvine and Bogg-Hargroves’s characters are different, and their performance styles are different. However, it really is great to see two such compelling and funny solo shows from emerging women writers. Hopefully, we’ll see lots more from both of them!

Overall, skank is an impressive solo show from Bogg-Hargroves. Witty and well-observed, it’s an engaging character study with some striking and well-constructed set pieces. I really enjoyed this show, and left TriBeCa with the feeling that I’d miss Kate a little bit now that the show’s over.

skank is on at TriBeCa in Manchester on the 18th-21st July, as part of this year’s Greater Manchester Fringe. For the full programme of events at this year’s Fringe, visit the festival website.

Review: The Melting of a Single Snowflake (Salford Arts Theatre, GM Fringe)

Wednesday 17th July 2019
Salford Arts Theatre

The Greater Manchester Fringe continues throughout July, and I continue to review shows for this blog and for North Manchester FM. In 2017, I reviewed two Fringe shows, and in 2018, I reviewed eleven. I definitely think I’m on track to beat that number in 2019! On Wednesday 17th July, I saw The Melting of a Single Snowflake at Salford Arts Theatre, a new play by writer-in-residence Libby Hall. Hall was one of the people I interviewed back in June for my Hannah’s Bookshelf Greater Manchester Fringe Special, so once again I was really looking forward to seeing this one.

Written by Hall and directed by Roni Ellis, The Melting of a Single Snowflake is an ambitious ensemble piece featuring performers from Salford Arts Theatre’s Young Performers Company. As I talked about with Hall in our interview, the play grew out of workshops involving the young actors, meaning that the company played an integral role in generating and developing ideas for Hall’s script.

The Melting of a Single Snowflake takes place in the aftermath of the disappearance of a schoolboy, Sam, during the summer holidays. The cast (of eleven young actors) play a group of Sam’s friends, peers and neighbours who are brought together through their shared (if a little tenuous in some cases) involvement in Sam’s life. The real ambition of the piece lies in the fact that the story is carried entirely by the young performers (there are no adult characters in the play), and also in the complexity of the relationships that are evoked through the dialogue. This isn’t a straightforward tale of the powerful bonds of friendship, but rather a story that reminds us young people have just as many varied reasons for spending time together as adults do.

Set during the school holidays and with a recorded audio backdrop of news reports on adolescent mental health, gang crime and Sam’s disappearance, The Melting of a Single Snowflake unabashedly sets itself up to tackle ‘big’ issues. As the young people gather to discuss the missing boy, conversations range from knife crime to drugs, from social media to sexuality. There is a frankness to these conversations, which is both hard-hitting and humorous, and some of the issues raised are handled in surprising and nuanced ways.

In particular, I found several of the conversations about Cameron (played by Adam Marsland)’s sexuality offered a refreshing and sensitive take. However, this was done without heavy-handed virtue-signalling, as the overall message was punctuated by a range of responses – from Kay (Calia Wild)’s concern that the group is too young for romantic relationships, to Alfie (Dillon Parker)’s clumsy macho posturing, to Amber (Sienna Kavanagh)’s comical confusion of bisexuality with bipolar disorder. While some poetic licence is employed to have all of these reactions occurring openly and simultaneously, The Melting of a Single Snowflake offers a convincing microcosm of the confusion and conflict that accompanies coming-of-age.

I’ve used the word ‘conversations’ a lot in this review, and it feels like the most apt description of how story is constructed in the play. The action takes place off-stage – indeed, some has occurred before the play begins, and some will occur in the time that elapses during the interval – and so everything we know about these characters, about their world, and about the missing boy Sam is conveyed though the dialogue. This is a challenge for the cast, but – aided by smart direction by Ellis – they are up to the task. With the group coming and going from the stage, and interacting in different combinations at different times, a sense of flow and development is created.

The Melting of a Single Snowflake is very much an ensemble piece, and it’s not really possible to single out individual performances or characters as ‘central’. Each one carries a part of the story, and the play’s strength lies in its group dynamic, from Josie Leigh’s belligerent wannabe boxer Mia to Jasmin Marsland’s know-it-all Demi.

I enjoyed the dynamic between Jake (Charlie Kenney) and Jodie (Elizabeth Pearson), two very different young people caught up in a world of crime that’s way outside their control. Leia Komorowska is great as fragile and haunted outsider Levi, and Joel Hill reveals excellent comic timing in his performance as Devon, a filter-less chatterbox whose near-continuous off-the-wall monologue throws the audience off-guard for one of the play’s more aggressive sucker-punches. Last but by no means least, Vincent Purcell plays Tom, Levi’s older brother and an eloquent observer of the group and its various social predicaments. In places appearing like a character somewhat out of time, Tom emerges as a detached and astute narrator of human frailty – but one surrounded by darkness and grief.

The Melting of a Single Snowflake is very much a game of two halves. On the one hand – and probably the more dominant aspect of the first act – it is a narrative that highlights the fears, concerns and disillusionments of young people, signalled by the news commentary. In the face of a crisis in mental health care, knife crime, a gang that may or may not have killed their friend, and (I don’t want to sound old here) a complete lack of adult support or intervention, how are these young people supposed to cope? However, there is another intriguing and compelling story running parallel to this, a much more personal (and, in many ways, more old-school theatrical) tale that comes into its own in the second act – but to say anymore would give spoilers! All credit to Hall, though, for bringing these two aspects together into a strong overall story.

In addition to the great writing, direction and performances, The Melting of a Single Snowflake also features a stylish set design by Roni Ellis and Scott Berry, which uses scattered debris and rubbish (including – I’m sure I saw – an old discarded municipal street sign for the Salford Arts Theatre’s predecessor theatre!) and a graffitied wall to effectively evoke both locale and the atmosphere.

The Melting of a Single Snowflake is an ambitious and thought-provoking piece of theatre, which showcases the talents of the Salford Arts Theatre’s young performers company and of its writer-in-residence, Libby Hall (who came through the company herself). A very enjoyable show that packs an unexpected punch.

The Melting of a Single Snowflake is on at Salford Arts Theatre on 17th-19th July, as part of the Greater Manchester Fringe. For the full programme of Fringe shows on this year, visit the festival website.