Ian played by Barry McCarthy (left), Alan Dein played by Rufus Wright (center) and Alecky Blythe as herself (right) with her recurrently occurring Dictaphone, photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan |
After my four-month hiatus from London, I arrived safely and soundly back to the great city just over a week ago. With university classes the furthest thing from my mind, one of my first orders of business was to meet up with the Almeida. Before the boxes in my flat were even unpacked, I enthusiastically made my third trip to date to the quaint theatre in Islington. (For a refresher on the other plays I have seen at the Almeida, read my American Psycho review here and my 1984 review here).
This time, the subject matter was slightly more somber and heavily weighted, due to the playwright’s direct interaction with real world events. I’m referring to the London riots of 2011, the events of which Alecky Blythe revisited in her verbatim play Little Revolution. This was my first experience attending a verbatim performance. In fact, there were many theatre firsts for me on that evening.
Kyle (Bayo Gbadamosi) gives the police a piece of his mind, photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan |
Verbatim theatre uses the spoken, unaltered words of actual people who have been interviewed. In this case, Blythe toted her Dictaphone around the streets of London while the riots and relief efforts were occurring, in the desire to create what she coined a “documentary play.” She spoke with others about the unfolding events, managing to capture the true essence and emotion of what was intended in that instance.
In regards to how that translates to the stage, the original accent, intonation, delivery, and speech pattern of the witnesses all remain the same, with actors filling in for the original individuals. Expect word for word reproductions, where no “um’s,” “ah’s,” awkward silences, or personality quirks go amiss. A very nice touch was when Blythe (starring as herself) forgot to turn her Dictaphone on. We watched on in silence as Blythe and Colin (played by Lucian Msamati) mimed to one another, only comprehending the few fragments we could lip-read.
Rez Kempton as Siva (center), whose shop has
been destroyed in the riots, surrounded by the support of the Community Chorus,
photo courtesy of Manuel Harlan
Starring
alongside Blythe were professional and non-professional actors alike. Little Revolution honed in on Hackney
particularly. This is why I was delighted to learn that of the 31 volunteers
(aged 16-74) forming the Community Chorus, some of them were recruited from
Hackney, along with Islington and other London boroughs. This added to the
already raw performance, granting it more depth and sincerity.
During the
show, I was subjected to a few heart-stopping scenarios. Outside of normal
procedure, the theatre doors that open into the foyer of the Almeida flew wide
open. Clanging and clattering noises and blinding lights overpowered the
arena in a frenzied recreation of the riots. The cast began “looting,” grasping Pringle cans, a television set, and
whatever else they could get their hands on as they made their speedy getaway.
This “mini” revolution as the sage Colin commented was hardly any different to
any major revolution. He observed that they all have fire and they all have
looting.
Resentment
was omnipresent in the show, whether towards the police, the looters, or the younger
residents of Hackney. However, we did glimpse the other side of the story, a
story that hinted towards hope. Couple Tony (Michael Shaeffer) and Sarah
(Imogen Stubbs) rallied a team together to host a tea party for raising moral (with
an unfortunately low turnout), while meetings were organized and flyers handed
out in the hopes of lessening the criminalization of Hackney youth.
Blythe’s
social commentary exemplified a community of people both simultaneously wanting
to help and wanting to complain while turning a blind eye. Ignorance is indeed
bliss, but then there’s the other saying that an ounce of prevention is worth a
pound of cure. Little Revolution offered
plenty of nervous laughter to go around and there is always plenty of tea to go
around. The activists ironically utilized stationary and tea products boasting,
“I love Hackney.” While this sentiment remained genuine, the words are empty
unless they are supported with actions reflecting it. Let us leave on the note
of Ian’s (Barry McCarthy) perfectly succinct food for thought: “The idea is
just to talk to one another.” Let us not just talk, but let us listen.
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