I’m not nearly as unobtrusive as I like
to think. For heaven’s sake, the other day I found myself sharing a
doorway with, and dwarfing, even comedian Phill Jupitus. Nevertheless,
this week I went undercover briefly. Performance company Rotozaza, who
have become increasingly interested in shows which turn the audience
into performers, directed through headphones, have two offerings on
this year’s Edinburgh Fringe. For
Wondermart
I was issued with an iPod containing a half-hour soundtrack, given
directions to a city centre supermarket, and told to follow the
instructions in my ears. The supermarket don’t know about it: as far as
they’re concerned, the occasional shopper who suddenly stops and
reverses their trolley is just doing it because they’ve been
distracted, not because they’re being secretly instructed to act this
way. In truth, there is little new in the soundtrack’s observations and
insights on the way the supermarket environment is designed to
manipulated you as a shopper. The most interesting aspect, in many
ways, is trying to negotiate a compromise between the actions the
directing voice expects you to be able to take and the reality of what
is practicable in a city-centre store in peak Fringe season. Also, I
cheated by actually buying some items; well, it was my only chance that
day.
Rotozaza’s other headphone show
Guru
Guru is much more stimulating, despite being sedentary: five at
a time, we are ranged around a video screen in a basement, playing the
roles of a kind of cyber-personality-design focus group, speaking and
moving as instructed. Again, one finds oneself negotiating a mode of
interaction, though this time with specific individuals who are engaged
in the same project.
There has been a small boom in work of this kind... by which I mean not
specifically headphone shows but presentations in which, whether
through direction or spontaneous interaction, we ourselves become
performers. I have already written about Ontroerend Goed’s rather
disconcerting exercise in forced intimacy
Internal, and I have yet to find
time for the one-to-one encounter with performer and artist Adrian
Howells that is
Foot Washing For The
Sole. What strikes me most strongly about such pieces is that,
in contrast with the usual sit-and-watch kind of theatre, more is
emotionally and psychologically at stake here for the punter, and
correspondingly less for the maker of the work, who in some cases (such
as
Wondermart) is not even
physically present. I cannot make up my mind whether this reversal is
exhilaratingly revolutionary or improper and even a kind of violation.
Probably the most comprehensive experience of the lot is
The Hotel, an immersive piece
(bookable through Assembly @ George Street) written by comedian and
novelist Mark Watson in which we are simply encouraged to roam around
several storeys of a building kitted out as an unsuccessful hotel. We
can see cheesy cabaret, get dragooned into sitting on an interview
panel, seek advice from the in-house guru (one of those again) in the
chill-out room, peruse a collection of the manager’s draft suicide
notes and find ourselves being “processed” by a surreal machine. The
entire building is comprehensively dressed, with a beautiful eye for
detail (my favourite was the certificate of successful exorcism hung
modestly on a landing wall), and the hotel is “staffed” by a collection
of comics up here with their own shows (the guru, for instance, is Thom
Tuck of the excellent Penny Dreadfuls). In effect, it is a wonderful
parody of one of Punchdrunk’s immersive presentations, and as far as I
am concerned is both more enjoyable and more successful than that
company’s last offering
It Felt Like
A Kiss in the Manchester International Festival last month.
Interaction can take other forms. Rotozaza’s shows are hosted by Forest
Fringe, an arts-lab-type set-up with a pay-what-you-can programme of
work which, although not listed in the main Fringe programme, has
become one of the hottest venues in only a couple of years. Forest’s
flagship show this year is
Sporadical
by Little Bulb Theatre, who won hearts and minds here last year with
their small-scale gem
Crocosmia.
The
current show is structured as a large-scale family reunion:
although the bulk of the work is the company’s performance of the
legend of the family’s origins, they also welcome us all by name
(badges are provided) and make small-talk with us beforehand. I’m sad
to say that Little Bulb may be a victim of too-much-too-soon syndrome:
my impression is that they are labouring too hard to reproduce the
unforced charm of their previous piece, and ending up instead with
indiscreet whimsy.
More winning because more surprising, for me, is
Noir across the square from Forest
Fringe at Gilded Balloon Teviot. I’m one of those people who are seldom
grabbed by circus acts, however skilful, unless there is some kind of
additional hook. Here, the Airealism collective have devised a wordless
film noir-style narrative with
which to frame their swing, ring, rope and ribbon work in various
permutations, including some ensemble sequences where so much is going
on that you simply can’t decide where to focus your attention. And
stripped down to the basics in terms of form, although jam-packed with
the best kind of smart content, is
The
Event (Assembly @ George Street), a monologue by John Clancy in
which Dave Calvitto stands on the stage and speaks about standing on a
stage and delivering a monologue. Delicious, perniciously mind-bending
stuff.
Written for the Financial
Times.