Not I by Samuel Beckett
Reviewer: Stephen Moyott 7th December 2009 Director: Alice Cady Notoriously difficult, for actors, director and audiences alike, ‘Not I’ by the iconic absurdist writer Samuel Beckett is a 20 minute monologue. On entering the theatre Welsh language could be heard punctuating the silence usually filled with the anticipated chatter of the audience. The haunting soundtrack immediately silenced us and the director cleverly invited us into the world of speech and language, heightening our senses and intrigue. ‘Not I’ is an intense theatrical experience where we are faced with a disembodied female mouth, delivered as quickly as possible at the speed of thought. The director’s decision to use the actor’s Welsh Identity to heighten the themes in the work was an inspired one. In staging ‘Not I’ you are only limited to a few options, due to the requirements of Becketts strict stage directions. The use of the camera was obvious, but used to good effect. My only criticism of the staging decisions was the distracting element of the mirror. I can understand the intent of this but it was extraneous and showed a lack of confidence within the director herself. Ceri Ash, rose to this challenge with gutsiness, spontaneity and pulled off a highly experiential performance. The detail of the vocal performance and direction tipped the balance between simply enlisting us in the fascinating spectacle of the human mouth engaged in speech to a greater depth of character, meaning and commenting on the human condition. A brave, intelligent and highly successful portrayal of this difficult classic. Both the director and actor are ones to be looked out for in the future. |
Little Eyolf by Henrik Ibsen
Reviewer: Charles Spencer 6th May 2011 Director: Anthony Biggs Assistant Director: Alice Cady Even by Ibsen’s daunting standards, Little Eyolf (1894) is an exceptionally gloomy play with a great undertow of guilt and grief. Alfred Allmers (Jonathan Cullen) and his wife Rita (Stubbs) have a crippled nine-year-old son who limps around the stage on a crutch. Soon after his birth they left him unattended on a table while making love and his fall caused his incurable injury. The play suggests that Alfred has been impotent since this disaster, while his wife still yearns for the solace of sex. And then, at the end of the first act, the boy drowns and his little crutch is discovered floating on the sea, ratcheting up the misery still further. In the past I have sometimes found Stubbs an excessively cute and winsome actress - but not here. She almost blows the roof off the theatre with a performance of barely contained hysteria, desperate longing and unfulfilled sexual desire. Whether manically sniffing her husband’s dirty laundry in the opening scene, sliding her foot up his inside leg in an attempt to arouse him, or bitterly complaining that she “can’t be fobbed off with scraps of love – I want you all to myself”, this is acting of unbridled emotion that is at times almost embarrassing to watch in its raw intensity. One feels one is intruding on a private grief. And to be frank, the performance does sometimes seem stridently over-pitched in this intimate auditorium. Stubbs is most moving in her moments of still, silent but nevertheless palpable grief. |