Yes, I know, it's been a while! I was a little unwell and things started to pile up and then talking about everything just turned into a bit of a warhorse and before I knew it I was at uni and dying of Fresher's Flu and then suddenly it's November and I haven't updated my blog in three months... Bad Hawke! And, of course, I had to sprinkle in a few hospital visits because I don't do things by halves!
So yes, for those of you who didn't know, I'm currently attending St Mary's University in Twickenham to studying Acting and I fucking love it. The hours are long, the work is hard and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I've made some great friends already, the lecturers are fantastic and - you might wanna sit down for this - when I go to bed I'm actually... excited for the next day??? I hear that's a thing???
Anyway, what I really want to talk to you about is the show I went to see last night with Mel; Mother Courage and Her Children. There will be minor spoilers ahead but, come on, the play was published in 1939, keep up!
You probably won't be surprised to hear that during the course of my studies we've touched upon Bertolt Brecht and his work, so it was a very happy coincidence to learn that Josie Lawrence, all round lovely lady and magnificent actor, would be taking on the eponymous role.
Situated in Elephant and Castle, the Southwark Playhouse is a delightfully unusual theatre which seemed perfectly suited for a Brechtian production, especially once it had been decked out in canvasses and scaffolding. A mixture of actors and ushers led us through a labyrinth of metal bars, finally having to walk directly across the stage space - and around an actor fully engrossed in a game of war with his toy soldiers - to get to our seats. Said actor (Shiv Jalota - who, coincidentally, I realised I worked with a few years ago!) was the only one to wear a microphone; his battle sounds blending into beatboxing, seamlessly intermingling with the sounds of war coming from the speakers. I was quite happy to watch his rather charming display as he crawled around the floor, setting up his soldiers for battle before knocking them down, over and over.
Suddenly, the lights went down and we were pulled back in time to the 1600's in the midst of war as two soldiers scrapped, rolling around on the floor for a hat. I'm not sure I can fully give it justice, but I would like to try and emphasise the amount of effort that went into the performance. The passion from every single actor was obvious as they threw themselves into each character, starting with the grappling pair (Celeste de Veazey and Nuno Queimado, respectively) and bursting forth from everything that followed for an electric three hours.
As is to be expected of a Brecht piece, the set was minimal, with just enough props and costume to set the scene. The floor was bare, the walls and wings merely canvass, and yet I saw beaten tracks, I saw snow, I saw crumbling cities as the actors effortlessly danced around each other, a simple piece of cloth turning a general to an old lady, a child to a farmer. And when the cast weren't playing a myriad of characters, they provided beautiful singing and reached for various instruments.
Even if I wasn't in the front row (which was quite literally the border for the floor space in which the actors performed), I would have felt a part of the it all as half of the play was performed on a balcony behind me, actors bustling past, fleeing up and down ladders and generally amazing me with their seemingly inexhaustible spirit in spite of insurmountable odds. I had to sink further into my seat on several occasions, afraid of getting a little too close to the action such was the intimacy of the space!
One thing I particularly enjoyed was an abandonment of gender. If the script says 'boy', you're a boy, it doesn't matter which actor played the part, for that moment that's who they were and that was that. Ivy Corbin gave a particularly satisfying performance as a general who valued his ever expanding gut more than the lives of his soldiers. As someone who firmly believes a role should be given to whoever best fits the part, it was really refreshing to see.
I would also like to tip my hat to Rosalind Ford, playing a very different kind of general, who remained in character guarding the door back to the stage during the entire interval. Never once letting the disciplined soldier leave her eyes or her firm stance so much as twitch, even when I completely misunderstood her and tried to go back inside anyway! She later told me she thought this was hilarious but you'd never have known it to look at her at the time.
Returning for a moment to what I said earlier about the energy and passion, watching Ben Fox as the cook, desperately singing for a mouthful of soup was one of the most intense things I've ever seen. Every inch of his body began to strain from the effort of his bellowing, starvation and cold making him shudder. I felt the life leaving his body as the character fought for just one more meal to keep on surviving. It really was a sight to behold.
In contrast, David Shelley provided a much more calming influence on the other characters as the Chaplain, often providing counsel and advice in exchange for food from Mother Courage. Once the right hand of the general, the Chaplain was a lot more 'civilised' than his new bedfellows, rarely letting raw passion break through his steady demeanour but occasionally he would crack and his voice would roar with fury and joy in equal measure, proud of his ability to capitulate an audience but mourning the loss of who he used to be.
A much needed breath of fresh air came in the form of Yvette (Laura Checkley), a prostitute who had seen more than her years should have allowed but carried herself with a rakish smile and a dirty laugh, strutting around her world-weary companions as though they were simply on a very long holiday. Returning later as the widow of a colonel, Yvette roars at the cook with an unbridled, long-brewing rage that was simply spectacular to behold. Even behind her, I felt as though my shoulders were being forced back into my seat such was the power of her fury.
Mother Courage (Josie Lawrence), her sons Eilif (Jake Phillips Head) and Swiss Cheese (Julian Moore-Cook) and her mute daughter Kattrin (Phoebe Vigor) rolled in on the infamous wagon as an unshakeable family unit; playful and obedient in equal measure. Courage's love and steely determination for her children's survival was tangible, each stroke of a cheek or clip on the ear was given out with a practiced hand - the cogs of her mind turning and turning as she played them all to her best ability, desperate for them to survive despite the warning in her heart which told her they would not.
It was obvious that both Courage and Lawrence knew their children inside out, treating each with a different kind of love to garner the best results, firmer with the feisty Eilif, kinder to the simple but honest Swiss Cheese, saving her true tenderness for her daughter, apparent despite her matter-of-fact words. In this way, as the war preyed on each of her children in turn, we as an audience mourned for them in different ways. We were angry for the mistreated Eilif; once regaled now reviled, we were broken for Swiss Cheese; whose innocent heart only ever meant for the best, and full of bittersweet sadness for Kattrin, who finally found her voice only to lose everything.
Each of her children was played to perfection - stepping into the stereotype of their parts; the solider, the pure, the mute - and breathing life into them. Three hours is a long time for a live performance but were it not for clocks, I would have believed we'd witnessed the entire 30 years of war, time and battle both ageing and lending vitality to those living in it. Mother Courage carried the weight of the word on her shoulders, hidden behind a wry smile, a flippant joke - juggled beautifully by Lawrence's grounded performance, as though her spirit were rooted to the ground like an oak in contrast to her lighter, less worldly children, for whom she had given everything to protect.
Swiss Cheese was full of hope and peace, his mind unplagued by much thought, his smile the smile of an infant. Eilif was full of fire, ready to fight for his pride, eager to prove himself after living under the thumb of Courage for so long. Kattrin was soulful, her wide eyes and broken cries saying all that her speech could not, managing to be playful and fun, determined and scared without ever saying a word.
The chemistry between Vigor and Lawrence was especially incredbile. There was a real love between them, especially as Courage sang one last lullaby to her beloved child, broken body cradled in her arms. The air crackled as the audience watched, utterly enraptured by this tender, still moment amidst all of the blood and war.
As Kattrin, her last surviving child, was taken from her, Courage doubles over in agony - her losses piling too much weight onto her tired shoulders as she is left alone in a bitter and empty world. She reaches helplessly outward for a someone, anyone to share in her burdens, to lighten the load the war has placed on her heart... As a testament to Lawrence's powerful performance, a lady in the audience immediately reached forward and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as Mother Courage left the stage for the final time, the wagon light on produce but laden with regret.
I was lucky enough to have a chat with the cast after the show and what a delightful bunch they were! It was a real pleasure to see them both on and off stage and I wish them all the best with their future projects.
Somehow, tickets are still available for this unforgettable play, I cannot emphasise enough how much I think you should see this! You can purchase tickets here, and have a delicious bite to eat in the bar before the show!
Xx
