Not so Far Away
How often do you watch the news or read an article in the paper about something horrific – a war, a famine, a natural disaster – which is taking place in a far off country? Are you disgusted by it? Do you think how awful it is that nobody does anything about it? Maybe you rant a little about selfish, irresponsible Western governments. Maybe you’re sick of reading depressing news and move on to the Arts section, or you realise that you’re late for a lecture, or someone calls you, or you have to go shopping, completely forgetting about the desperate situation which, after all, you subconsciously decide, you can never hope to do anything about anyway – besides, it doesn’t actually affect you personally.
This mode of existence, dubbed as “denial as a mode of living” by director and York professor Mary Luckhurst, is explored in Caryl Churchill’s Far Away, playing at the York Theatre Royal from the 9th until the 12th of February. The play challenges its audience to face up to the fact that we are all involved in the violence and corruption which is constantly going on in the world and, as such, complacency and ignorance are unacceptable.
Far Away is a collaborative performance between the University and the Theatre Royal and has been in the pipelines for several years. It was performed in the Studio, the Theatre Royal’s smaller venue, by students and with a student crew. It is the first ever amateur performance of Far Away, with the playwright herself specifically granting rights to Luckhurst.
Speaking to the director about her production it was clear that, as well as working to put together a polished and exciting interpretation of the play, she aimed to encourage young people’s involvement in the theatre and give students the opportunity to work and learn in a professional setting with professional people. The learning experience no doubt encountered by the play’s cast and crew was also evident to audience members – Far Away is a difficult play; it requires a good deal of work on both sides of the stage. A director, as Mary Luckhurst acknowledges, is faced with the problem of making it accessible and meaningful without losing the power and impact of the writing. This is something she undoubtedly achieves and although it took me several days to fully digest the performance, it was an experience that I won’t quickly forget. The play awakens an uncomfortable awareness of our inadequacies and ably elucidates Luckhurst’s thought that “Every moment of your life is political.”
The production is a homogeneous mix of theatrical disciplines. Making use of film, music and dance, it is also a cross-disciplinary dialogue. Luckhurst explains that this all stems from her training as a theatre practitioner; she trained to work in coordination with other professionals, allowing each to draw upon the others skills. In the case of Far Away she often utilises York students’ skills too: The choreography of the integral parade scene is composed by Jordana Hill, a first year Writing and Performance student; the musicians are all students, as is the costume designer and the assistant director. One of the play’s great strengths is that it employs a varied rostrum of theatrical elements; the script is sparse and concise and asks to be explored far beyond the page.
Reading the script beforehand made it exciting to see how far it had progressed, how much the company had done to develop it in order to make its message clear to the audience. The dialogue between the two hat-makers (played by Panda Cox and Paul Birch) is a fine example of the play’s achievements. They impressively brought their characters to life, giving them a relationship that fleshes out the script, and a depth that points out their purpose for all to see. Another interesting decision was to run the penultimate scene - a heated descent in to madness, played brilliantly by Sophie Larsmon and Paul Birch - twice over, with film and music as a backdrop the second time. Luckhurst describes the scene as “some sort of apocalyptic disintegration of the world”; the repetition opened up and emphasised the scene, a difficult one that really requires two viewings to understand.
The discordant music and the film, made up of distorted clips of the previous scenes, reinforced its meaning, subjecting the audience to an uncomfortable assault of the senses.
The highlight of the play is the parade scene. This is a silent scene which shows the parade that the hat-makers work for. It is highly disturbing: Suddenly it becomes clear how corrupt and dark this world is and yet the dancers in their oversized pajamas, with chalk white faces, bring to mind the atrocities of our world, the death camps of the holocaust, and the current war in Iraq (alluded to with an Uncle Sam hat bearing stars and stripes), making us realise that this “dance macabre”, as Luckhurst describes it, is not so ‘far away’ after all. The scene drives home the central message that it is through our inaction that we are all implicated in the cruelty and corruption of this world, the ridiculously ostentatious hats symbolising the blasé way in which we treat world problems. Our rich-world lavish lifestyles and consumerist fervour contrast rather shamefully next to those who are facing suffering everyday just as the towering, garish hats compare to the desolate faces of the parade members.
Mary Luckhurst said of her hopes for the production: “If we as a company can make even one member of the audience walk away thinking about their political consciousness, their sense of political responsibility or even the situation in Iraq in a different way, or war wherever, then for me it’s been worth it.” The company can be confident that they have achieved this goal and more besides. It is a performance that grows on you. In retrospect I find myself continually provoked and stimulated by it. It’s not an easy play to watch, but it should be watched, and hopefully the ideas it addresses will one day be more widely taken into account.
Loading ...
