When it comes to Random, less is more. The less you know about it the more likely you're going to go. Ask too many questions or read too many reviews, the greater the chance that you'll pass. Because it's dark, heavy, serious. But then you'll be missing a truly memorable evening, and that would be a shame. All because you had to be convinced it was good before you could discover the same thing for yourself.
See here's what I mean: Arriving at the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square, collect your tickets and search for your seat, get comfortable 'cause there's no readmission once the performance has started. And there before you is a big blank stage. The wooden planks that make up the stage floor, the curtains that shield the performer from the audience, everything is a barren black. The lights go down and when they come up again there's one young woman standing on the centre of the stage, under a glaring spotlight and for the next 50-minutes she is the sum of your entertainment. Never moving from that one spot in the centre of the stage, under the blaring spotlight, Nadine Marshall is the cast in its entirety as she switches between the half dozen characters that make up the play.
A one-woman monologue, flipping from one character to the next, sharing the story of a senseless murder in South London; showing the life of one black family in an urban neighbourhood. The language is from the streets where the play is staged. A middle-aged, white American man beside me confides that he hears the play is very good, even though you can't expect to understand anything. A lesbian couple in front of me chat with a young black woman in their row, asking what she knows about the play and its writer. The young woman has been to see Tucker-Green's work before and she praises the poetic voice used to tell harrowing tales. The entire balcony is made up of high school kids shouting and laughing.
But then the script begins and you're entranced. Watching as Marshall leans back in a lazy, slouched stance to portray Brother. Stretching her jumper anxiously around herself, jutting her neck out and Marshall becomes Mother. Pointing her chin up and casting her eyes down, Marshall grows into the tall, stoic Father. She races through the dialogue, changing from one person to the next, so that it was those small, subtle differences in tone and pitch that told you who was speaking through her now. Marshall is the vessel that carries these characters from the pages of Tucker-Green and gives them life every night on the barren, black stage.
The emotions are infectious, the audience laughs, guffaws, chortles and brays as the family goes through their morning ritual. The words are so vivid that you're no longer in a theatre in South West London watching a woman on the stage. You're in the kitchen watching Mother make porridge; you're at work with Sister complaining about your co-workers, you're in the classroom with Brother cringing laughter as he banters with teacher. You become a part of this family, of this neighbourhood. And when the worst happens your heart becomes heavy, the loss is yours as well.
But now I may have gone and told you too much for the performance and poetry is yours to discover.
See here's what I mean: Arriving at the Royal Court Theatre in Sloane Square, collect your tickets and search for your seat, get comfortable 'cause there's no readmission once the performance has started. And there before you is a big blank stage. The wooden planks that make up the stage floor, the curtains that shield the performer from the audience, everything is a barren black. The lights go down and when they come up again there's one young woman standing on the centre of the stage, under a glaring spotlight and for the next 50-minutes she is the sum of your entertainment. Never moving from that one spot in the centre of the stage, under the blaring spotlight, Nadine Marshall is the cast in its entirety as she switches between the half dozen characters that make up the play.
A one-woman monologue, flipping from one character to the next, sharing the story of a senseless murder in South London; showing the life of one black family in an urban neighbourhood. The language is from the streets where the play is staged. A middle-aged, white American man beside me confides that he hears the play is very good, even though you can't expect to understand anything. A lesbian couple in front of me chat with a young black woman in their row, asking what she knows about the play and its writer. The young woman has been to see Tucker-Green's work before and she praises the poetic voice used to tell harrowing tales. The entire balcony is made up of high school kids shouting and laughing.
But then the script begins and you're entranced. Watching as Marshall leans back in a lazy, slouched stance to portray Brother. Stretching her jumper anxiously around herself, jutting her neck out and Marshall becomes Mother. Pointing her chin up and casting her eyes down, Marshall grows into the tall, stoic Father. She races through the dialogue, changing from one person to the next, so that it was those small, subtle differences in tone and pitch that told you who was speaking through her now. Marshall is the vessel that carries these characters from the pages of Tucker-Green and gives them life every night on the barren, black stage.
The emotions are infectious, the audience laughs, guffaws, chortles and brays as the family goes through their morning ritual. The words are so vivid that you're no longer in a theatre in South West London watching a woman on the stage. You're in the kitchen watching Mother make porridge; you're at work with Sister complaining about your co-workers, you're in the classroom with Brother cringing laughter as he banters with teacher. You become a part of this family, of this neighbourhood. And when the worst happens your heart becomes heavy, the loss is yours as well.
But now I may have gone and told you too much for the performance and poetry is yours to discover.
Add an event
Frieze Art Fair to launch new section for young galleries in 2012
Frieze have today announced details for the 2012 edition, their tenth art fair in London. Taking place...