Blogging Through Pulse


Pulse Festival Blog 5: Monday 30 May

30 May 2016


Geezers need excitement
If their lives don’t provide them this, they incite violence
Common sense, simple common sense.
 

Four days in and I’m not even really looking at the brochure anymore. Just tell me where to go and at what time and I’ll shuffle in and look straight ahead. Context is overrated anyway.

This time though, a cast of 13 ran from behind the curtain wearing Fila jackets and yelling football chants, and straight away I was like YES. Young lads mainly, playing working class roles with northern voices – too northern to work out which were real and which were performed. They were cocky and charming and angry and lost. Wanted to either fuck us or fuck us up. Or just show us their new trainers. The kind of lads that now you see in Maccy D’s, but back in the 80s, they were at the footy, beating the shit out of one another in organised ‘scraps’.

This story of a football ‘firm’ – a gang of lads, like a brotherhood, whose pride and masculinity was decided each Saturday afternoon – is not particularly challenging or conceptual, but fuck me it’s the first time my hairs have bristled so far this festival. The New Wolsey Studio was like a seething pit of aggression. Sweat and testosterone and warm lager. But then such smiley camaraderie as well, taking the piss and sticking up for your mates.

 

Geezers need excitement
If their lives don’t provide them this, they incite violence
Common sense, simple common sense

 

I don’t want to glamorise the violence in this play (and neither does the play; there’s a moral question asked, even if it not a particularly surprising one) but I do want to celebrate this young company’s ability to assault an audience with so much, and so completely. I mean, onstage violence is so often just embarrassing; it’s ridiculous and choreographed. Here, they achieve what they need to just by performing the tension and hostility (and humour, and vulnerability) that comes before that violence. As a result, the focus of this show is on the lads themselves, not their actions. But that violence somehow remains real.

Okay, so maybe the quieter moments aren’t quite as strong, and maybe the story has been heard before, but this is a rare example of a young ensemble boiling up filth, fury and family onstage, and representing young, conflicted, working class men with honesty and respect.


Geezers need excitement
If their lives don’t provide them this, they incite violence
Common sense, simple common sense
 

An unknown company with a cast of 13 is a tough sell to any venue or festival producer. Those train fares soon add up. The only reason this show is affordable for Pulse is that it was made in education, relatively locally. It’s off to Plymouth Fringe tomorrow. It’s not a flawless work of great art, but I really, really hope it gets a further life.

 


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Pulse Festival Blog 4: Sunday 29 May

29 May 2016

Oooooooooh.

That’s the noise I make when I’m asked for feedback on a scratch performance.

Ooooooooooooooooh.

It’s kinda one of the unspoken rules of this criticism. Artists want your feedback, either face-to-face or on little comment cards, but write a review – even a silly online one – and suddenly you’ve created this little Sliding Doors moment for that show. Actually, no, it’s not a Sliding Doors moment; it’s a case of one train leaving the station and one just sitting there, forever, idle and unwieldy; even the old copies of Metro refusing to age. You’ve frozen it, preserved it in some kind of cryogenic chemical from which it will never emerge. A moment of its making will live forever, against which it will always be measured. Good or bad, that feels like an unnecessary thing to do to a piece of art.

via GIPHY

I usually try not to mention scratch work that I see. In any kind of permanent, public way anyhow. The Suitcase Prize yesterday was one thing – those guys had entered a competition with their unfinished work – but going on record about a small audience sharing feels a bit… dishonourable. Unless, of course, I have loved literally every single thing about a piece and desperately want to find a way for the artists to keep going, keep making, don’t give up. So much of these early ideas find a rehearsal room for a few days and then never get any further than that. But while I believe that at least 50% of finished shows should never have been made in the first place, I don’t think audiences – or critics – are always the best judge of which 50% should be aborted.

Today, I spoke to Jamal Harewood after the sharing of his Word work-in-progress. I am a fan of Jamal Harewood. I am, like, a capital letters level FAN of Jamal Harewood. I think his earlier piece, The Privileged, is one of the most important pieces of performance ever made, and this new one is shaping up to be even more discomforting. Crucially discomforting. But when I was asking Jamal about his plans for the work, and about the way the success of The Privileged has affected his making process this time around, he said something unexpected. He said that he’s not giving himself any deadlines. He’s not working towards a particular booking, or venue run. He’s going to continue working on the show, and sharing it at different stages of development, but he won’t commit to some kind of artificial premiere, no big press night. In an industry whose funding systems are so overwhelmingly based on outcomes, it’s a refreshing attitude.

So, this afternoon, I saw a version of Word that sits at a particular, singular point on the show’s timeline. Later, I might be lucky enough to see another version, at another point on the timeline. And in the meantime, Jamal can develop this show – this difficult, uncompromising show – at a pace that gives him, and his process, the space required.


Pulse Festival Blog: Saturday 28 May

28 May 2016

It was Suitcase Prize Day yesterday, and I can appreciate that On The Run were an excellent choice of winner. We saw an excerpt of their show, Tell Me Anything, which was delivered from a stage marked by a grid of water cups, with one massive inflatable dolphin. The guy was likeable, presenting a set of reflections on his teenage girlfriend and her eating disorder. It’ll be interesting to see how it develops, and how the company manage the difficulties of telling a story so emotionally and politically charged, about someone else.

I feel a bit conflicted about the concept of the Suitcase Prize tbh. On the one hand, the idea that it rewards exciting shows that can be toured on public transport – “sustainably” is the buzzword here – is a great thing, but there’s no denying that light-on-its-feet theatre is also very affordable theatre. Naturally, venues and promoters love it. It suits them down to the fucking ground. But when there are so many opportunities for ‘emerging’ makers, and an Arts Council G4A system which moves the goalposts as soon as you ask for more the £15k, it sometimes feels like what we really need are fewer Suitcase Prizes and more help for artists who want to think big. Sign o’ the times, I suppose.

Still, making the eligibility for an opportunity so broad means that over the course of yesterday we saw hugely varied and interesting work. And I want to take a moment to champion one artist in particular, whose show didn’t have a hope in hell of winning, but was still the absolute highlight of my day.

via GIPHY

Zebra Cross! by Shakti Gomez was apparently a bit of a wildcard entry to the shortlist. It’s basically like a dance class with a bit of that weird Human Pups fetish show from the telly the other night, and a bit of David Attenborough too, all delivered by a woman dressed as a zebra. It was a brilliant shambles. Her rubber zebra head caused microphone issues, her instructions to the audience were confusing, but her method of demonstrating pack mentality was simply to hold up inflatable zebras to her hips. Just stand there striking a pose, pressing blow-up animals against her body. I was 100% on board. Much of the rest of the audience absolutely hated it – those po-faced, sitting down, arms crossed philistines – but I was learning all sorts of stuff. Did you know that a zebra’s stripes are as unique as our fingerprints?! No you didn’t. Don’t lie.

The best thing though, was that it was such a triumph over professionalism. I’m so bored of well-educated, well-organised artists looking calmly out at their audience, dramaturging themselves to a tight little nugget of nothing. Every time we thought Zebra Cross has come to an end, our rubber-headed leader would pause and say, all muffled and breathless, “And another thing about zebras is…” and while the rest of the room groaned inwardly, I’d be like YES! TELL ME MORE ABOUT ZEBRAS! I WILL STAY HERE ALL NIGHT IF NECESSARY! LET’S DO THE ZEBRA DANCE!

At the end of the show she gave us magic stripy zebra gems as we filed out of the auditorium. The guy in front of me didn’t take his. Woe betide him if he ever gets injured by a lion and has no herd on call to encircle him.

via GIPHY


Pulse Festival Blog 2: Friday 27 May

27 May 2016

In yesterday’s post I was talking about one of my main priorities as the Pulse blogger; to find those fleeting moments of togetherness that make a festival a festival, rather than just a collection of shows. Of course, I’m wary of that objective turning me into some kind of hippy. Togetherness doesn’t necessary mean agreement, and communities don’t always see eye to eye. Maybe the thing I’m actually looking for is something closer to presence, and a feeling of sharing something, even if that’s just a common problem.

I was also talking yesterday – showing off really – about all my newfound Ipswich knowledge. Well, forget Ipswich; last night I went to Preston.

Andy Smith’s Preston Bill has got a great name. It’s about a guy called Bill from Preston, yes, but it’s also a journey through social and political change, the laws and policies that steer it. Bill (the man) lives through wartime, the welfare state, national service, the three-day week. As his career progresses, so does his involvement in his union, until both are disempowered. The actions of governments manifest themselves in Bill’s life. As they do in all our lives.

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Andy Smith

This show could be shit. For starters, it’s just one guy and a chair (yawn) and worse: there’s a ukulele on stage throughout. The ukulele is objectively the worse instrument of all time, and its theatrical prominence can be blamed on an ancient curse. Now, Andy Smith is an affable guy, but for at least half the show that ukulele emits an overwhelming sense of menace. It’s basically Chekhov’s Ukulele: if it’s visible to the audience, at some point he’s going to play it, and we’d better just brace ourselves.

When it comes though, turns out it’s that moment I’m looking for. That togetherness. The story of Bill’s life is interrupted so Andy can sing to us a union song, and teach to us it’s chorus.

We’re shit at singing, obvs. I do a bit of a half mumble but daren’t raise my voice above the consensus volume so it kinda comes out like a stage whisper. There are some piss-poor efforts nearby too. But it doesn’t matter. The song isn’t there to be a jolly interlude. It’s a reminder that, once upon a time, thousands of people were in unions, actively and wholeheartedly. It’s a reminder that the culture of solidarity amongst working people has been dismantled within one generation. It’s a reminder that bills and policies being discussed in parliament now are designed to serve nothing (and nobody) but a theoretical economic model. It’s a reminder that another type of life, within living memory, is now all but gone.

While there’s something about being in an audience that naturally brings people together, in spirit as much as location, this kind of togetherness is more like a shared separation. That’s a good thing btw, testament to Andy’s subtlety of writing and delivery. This show – this warm, moving storytelling show from this smiley, affable man – is ultimately about collective desolation. I mean, how distressing that it’s the The Preston Bill’s singalong – its single moment of interactivity – that shows us how fragmented and apathetic our social democracy has become.

Join me tomorrow for more upbeat, laugh-a-minute impressions of Pulse 2016.

Meg xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Pulse Festival Blog 1: Thursday 26 May

26 May 2016

I’ve been reading the wikipedia page on Ipswich. It’s like my pre-Pulse homework. You can test me if you like.

I know about Thomas Wolsey[1], the theatre where the Beatles played[2], and the time Ipswich Town won the UEFA Cup[3]. I know where the tallest building is[4], and what it’s called[5]. I know about the ship burial at Sutton Hoo[6], I know what Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon came to the town to see[7], and I know the name of the company that built the first motorised lawnmower[8]. I know which book Dickens based in Ipswich[9], and which writer took the piss out of the people he met here[10]. I know about the maximum recorded temperature[11].

Thomas Wolsey, waiting to hear if he can open the house.

Thomas Wolsey, waiting to hear if he can open the house.

I know that Ipswich is the oldest continually inhabited town in England. Apparently Colchester was a thing first but everyone there ran off after a while, so Ipswich gets the title. I guess everyone from Ipswich who didn’t travel the world to found new lands in its name (as was the case with Nathaniel Ward, first minister of Ipswich, Massachusetts) decided it was quite a nice place to be.

My name’s Meg, and I’m going to be writing about/to/from/beside Pulse, for the next 11 days. I’ve been to Ipswich before, but I pretty much only know the stretch of road from the station to the New Wolsey (there’s a dog at my digs though, so I’ll probably never leave). It’s the first time I’ve done something like this. In the past I’ve resisted opportunities to ‘embed’ myself into a festival, or the journey of a particular show. That’s partly because I didn’t trust myself to retain any kind of impartiality (most people are quite nice, and telling nice people that you don’t like their work is horrible), but also partly because, in the case of festivals at least, location and environment is so important.

When I learnt about the history of festivals at uni, I learnt about the idea of carnival, and harvest, and celebration of both the land and the people that live on it. I learnt about the way community emerged from patterns of social behaviour. Now, I’m not from Ipswich, so while I may know that Broomhill Pool opened in 1938 and closed in 2002, I can’t pretend that what I’m doing here at Pulse for the next 11 days is anything like an act of reportage on behalf of Ipswich’s theatre festival.

Communities though, I like to think I know a bit about them. For starters, there’s one in my phone. There’s one in every auditorium I visit, even if only for an hour at a time. And there’s one that zig-zags the country, runs the length of our road and rail networks, connects all the theatremakers presenting work at Pulse this year: they are touring artists. They visit towns like Ipswich regularly, get in and get out of theatres like the New Wolsey sometimes several times a week. They pile out of vans on not enough sleep, and they make weird, clever, funny, thoughtful things come to life for a room full of people they’ve mostly never met before.

‘Embedding’ myself in a festival doesn’t just mean seeing everything and writing about the way shows work together; it’s about finding the festival ethos within the festival programme. Looking for an expression of community, whether that’s a community spread across a non-metropolitan district with a population of 133,384, or 100 people sitting next to each other in the dark. Or just 5 best mates who only get to hang out after they’ve packed their kit back into the van for the night.

See you tomorrow,

Meg xx

[1] off of Hilary Mantel

[2] Regent Theatre, formerly the Gaumont

[3] 1981

[4] on College Street, by the waterfront

[5] Cranfield Mill

[6] basically some hardcore Beowulf shit

[7] the Marian Shrine of Our Lady of Grace

[8] Ramsomes, Sims and Jefferies

[9] The Pickwick Papers

[10] Chaucer

[11] 35.2 degrees Celsius, in August 2003


China Plate

21 May 2014

In the run up to the festival we’ve been talking to loads of our guests and performers, they’ve had loads to say, both about the festival and the unique acts they’re hoping to bring to our stage.

We got talking to some of the guys from China Plate Theatre, they had quite a bit to say about how they’re feeling for the festival and about how good, it’s all going to be!

It turns out, the 29th May isn’t only a special day for Paul, Ed and Iain of China Plate because it’s the 149th day of the year, no. It turns out that the 29th is special because “it’s the day that PULSE Festival Ipswich launches at New Wolsey Theatre” .

These guys are really excited to be kicking off our wonderful festival, “China Plate are absolutely delighted to be back as Festival Directors and overwrought with excitement about this year’s programme”. 

China Plate were very keen indeed to highlight some of the very special acts they’ve got in store for us all, saying; “To pull out highlights is very hard but the festival gets of to an absolutely flying start with Bryony Kimmings’ totally awesome Credible Likeable Superstar Role Model and the funny, heart-warming and utterly charming Love Project from award winning Every Day”. 

These awesome shows are only the beginning for our festival though, and with such great opening acts, we and China Plate thought it would be a big shame to follow it up with anything less than brilliant. Which is good, because we’ve got a full 10 days of great acts, “10 days of bright, bold and bloody brilliant performances” is just China Plate’s way of describing it, but we don’t think they’re too far from the mark with that one, it’s going to be something to see.

It’s often the little things in life that matter right? Which is also good, because as well as extravagant and brilliant acts, China Plate have sorted out a wonderful array of smaller acts to keep everyone entertained, “We’re also playing host to the world’s tallest parrot (and the world’s shortest pirate), a man who will mesmerise you by balancing rocks and a life drawing class with a difference!”.

For the full version of China Plate’s chat, head over to BroadwayWorld.com give it a quick read and you’ll see that China Plate are seriously excited about this, and with good reason.

For our full list of fixtures and events check out our programme and website. There is loads to see and all bookings can be done via the website or over the phone, for our box office call 01473 295 900. 

To stay even more connected with all that we’re up to, check us out on Facebook and Twitter as well.

 

 


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