This review comes from Night Writes guest reviewer Jack Mitchell
“What’s the game, then?”
The thuggish Mick asks the homeless layabout Davies this question at the end of Act 1 of Harold Pinter’s The Caretaker. Davies doesn’t know how to respond and it is almost as though Pinter is probing the audience with the same question. What’s the point of it all? Sitting within the absurdist theatre style, the play questions our assumptions about the fundamental aspects of live theatre. The plot is sparse, the characters speak over and around each other, and the language is cyclical and repetitive. Under Iain Sinclair’s direction, this is a claustrophobic and intriguing production.
Some forty-five years ago, there was very little information and treatment available for mental illness so, when Anne’s first son Jonathan began acting out, getting aggressive, skipping school, and speaking about things no one else could see, the rough road to a diagnosis was only the beginning of the family’s battle to get Jonathan help and safety.
Marriage is rich ground for conflict, having inspired countless dramatic examinations of hetero marital dynamics through the centuries. In this new adaptation of the 19th century classic, recognisable conversations about gender roles, freedom, and love demonstrate the timelessness of marriage stories under patriarchy.
An American, an Irishwoman, and an Englishman come together to discuss an exciting new theatre project that will provoke the London scene. Except the distinctions aren’t really that clean-cut and even a gentle nudge throws the balance of identity, religion, and politics into a messy, urgent disaster.
After four hundred years King Berenger’s kingdom is crumbling. He is no longer nature’s master, his armies have deserted, and his doctor predicts his death imminently in an hour and a half. In Megan Wilding’s imagination, the king isn’t merely Eugene Ionesco’s belligerent every man, but the end of the world as we know it and an opportunity for someone new.
Mardi Gras celebrations are often centred on taking pride in LGBTQIA+ identities and showcasing the many possibilities available in the margins but, simultaneously, this is a time for acknowledging the survival and resilience of a community routinely subjected to violence and systemic persecution. Our Blood Runs in the Street focuses on the findings of the “NSW Parliamentary Inquiry into Gay and Transgender hate crimes between 1970 and 2010”, its reopening in 2019, and the lasting impact of violence.
Alistair McDowall’s alternate version of Manchester is part game, part gritty crime drama, and part sci-fi thriller as the characters navigate their shifting and unreliable narratives. Pomona and The Girl are only myths until they become reality for those that choose to get involved.
A young couple are taking some time together to heal after a rough patch in their relationship. They book a stay at a cozy bed and breakfast in historic Gettysburg and that might be all it is. It also might be an entrance to another dimension, or a house haunted by Civil War soldiers, or an elaborate game of make-believe constructed by owner Kitty. Who’s to really say who’s in charge and what it all means?