There have been rumours to this effect all over Twitter for the past few months, and since the news officially broke social networking has been awash with condemnation, with many of the jokes relating to the idea of the loser being sent home via a crucifixion. However, there has been one voice in the newspapers and on websites that has been louder than others and probably has more right than most to be angry. Tim Rice, who wrote the lyrics for Jesus Christ Superstar, is not impressed that his old colleague is going to cast the show in this manner. It is no secret they have not been as close as when they first started working together, and I’m guessing the fact Lloyd Webber has ignored Rice’s wishes is not improving their relationship.

Rice stated in an interview that he finds the whole TV show idea “tacky” and “relentlessly downmarket”, but he is a fan of the arena tour concept. He also points out: “They can’t cast the show without my approval. I have the right to veto casting so if Andrew casts it on TV and I didn’t like the person, I could say so.” There was a large part of me that was thrilled after reading the interview because it is nice to hear a lyricist putting their foot down. Historically they are often the unsung and quiet heroes of a musical theatre writing duo, however Rice proves that when angered they can be a force to be reckoned with.

But Rice isn’t just causing controversy for the fun of it; he has good reasoning. There is the obvious argument that there are plenty of trained performers in and out of work in the West End who could play that role but may miss out again because they are not as exciting as the pull of a big name. But the main reason I have issues with casting this way is because you run the risk of an untrained singer winning the part. Anyone who knows the show and songs such as ‘Gethsemane’ will understand how hard they are to sing – the use of falsetto could easily damage the voice without good technique. The show is billed as a rock-opera, however the world has moved on vocally and modern day rock singers don’t tend to sing in the same way as the 1970s performers with that Bee Gees-style falsetto.

Rice also makes a point about the type of show Webber is casting through TV: “Those shows are relentlessly downmarket, which is fine if the show is a lightweight bit of fluff.” Whilst this does sound like Rice is having a go at his own show, Joseph and his Technicolor Dreamcoat, in contrast Jesus Christ Superstar is still a fairly controversial show due to its plot about the last days of Jesus and his relationship with Judas and Mary Magdalene. Back in the 1970s people stood outside the Broadway theatre protesting, and the KGB persecuted performers who put on an unofficial production in 1971, so as Rice points out it is “ill-advised” to have people voting for who can be Jesus.

The point Rice makes is valid: the TV talent show isn’t the powerhouse it once was, proved by the controversy surrounding The X Factor both here and in America. Nowadays things are often a step ahead on social media networks, which are introducing new ways of casting into the fray. Currently there is a talent search under way headed by the unknown tweeter @westendproducer, who is searching for a Twitter leading lady and leading man via his ‘Westendproducer Star Search’. The winner doesn’t get cast in a show but does get the title. The downside to this is that it is another talent search, with the contenders facing a public vote and the risk of horrible comments, but the upsides win out – whoever is behind the profile is very connected both as a person but also on Twitter, meaning a lot of performers, producers and directors can see the videos people are placing on YouTube. On Friday of last week @westendproducer even tweeted that an agent had been in contact regarding the videos, so who knows where it could lead for someone.

The issue of using different mediums to cast a production is hard to judge. I agree with Tim Rice that a TV show isn’t needed for the arena tour of Jesus Christ Superstar. Especially judging by the climate on Broadway, which is having a religious celebration with revivals of Jesus Christ Superstar, Godspell and original show Book of Mormon and newcomer Sister Act –  surely this could trigger a religious resurgence in the West End too? So, then, if TV has reached saturation point, could mediums such as Twitter be the future?

Image by H. Michael Karshis.

“Daring Drama! Clever Characterizations! Breath-taking situations! Aboard a mystery ship bound for an unknown port! A boy and a girl, madly in love, unmarried, seek a short cut to happiness. Follow them through the mists of adventure into a shadow world, vague and mysterious. Romance and drama – and an undying love! Outward Bound will thrill you as you never thrilled before!”

 - Advertising on the trailer for the 1930 Warner Bros adaptation of Outward Bound

Outward Bound is a post-World War One work that takes on the question of what happens when we die. Currently showing at the Finborough is the first London performance of this piece for 50 years, directed by Louise Hill and playing as part of its ReDiscoveries2012 season. After several plays that enjoyed only lukewarm receptions, Vane’s unusual choice of subject in Outward Bound meant he found it impossible to entice any producer into backing the show. Undeterred, legend has it that for a mere $600 (so goes the estimate) Vane sourced actors, theatre, set – in short, everything – and put it on the stage himself. It went down a storm, and the initial word-of-mouth reviews ensured full houses during the play’s runs in London and New York through 1923 and 1924.

For Vane’s contemporaries, the play appealed to the many who were coming to terms with the social and economic fall-out of the largest-scale warfare ever, whilst mourning the more personal losses of family members. These losses caused a resurgent interest in the afterlife and led people to focus on contacting spirits and in attempting to find proof of existence beyond the grave – a famous example is the writer Arthur Conan Doyle who became involved in the Christian Spiritualist movement after the loss of a number of relatives in the war and his son’s death from injuries sustained in the Battle of the Somme. Vane’s work exploits the general preoccupation of the time by imagining an existence after death and, although not explicitly depicting death, capitalises on the interest in it by placing his characters on a river sailing away from Life towards – whatever it is that comes next.

On board, despite Scrubby (a nicely expressionless David Brett) the steward’s assertion that “There is only one class on this boat”, the passengers divide themselves up, pitting the snobby Colonel’s wife Mrs Cliveden-Banks (Carmen Rodriguez) – “I am”, she says, “very particular about my hyphen” – and rich and pompous MP Mr Linley (Derek Howard)  – who is “an honest British merchant, my bank balance will show you that” – against meek, earnest Reverend William Duke and East-End heart-of-gold charlady Mrs Midget (both very well cast and played respectively by Paul Westwood and Ursula Mohan).

Outward Bound’s cosmology mingles various religious mythologies; this boat could be the boat that travels on the River Styx of the Greeks, with steward Scrubby as the Ferryman Charon – or a version of the early and medieval Christian notions of a purgatory through which each soul must initially journey after death. When they finally reach their destination, the passengers’ fate will be decided after questioning by the Examiner (Martin Wimbush). But the destination is also unclear; dissolute young gentleman Tom Prior (Nicholas Karimi) questions Scrubby, asking “Where are we sailing for?” “Heaven, sir”, says the Steward. “And Hell too; it’s the same place, you see.”

Each passenger deals with their situation according their personality; blustering MP Linley calls the group to a ‘board meeting’ to certify that they are, in fact, dead and asks if the Examiner can be bribed; young Tom turns to drink; Reverend Duke to prayer and contemplation. Only Ann (Natalie Walter) and Henry (Tom Davey), the good-looking young couple, stay quiet. As the Examiner delves into each life in turn, those who lived badly – a corrupt past in a foreign country for Linley, the manipulations of Mrs Cliveden-Banks to hide her lowly origins -  and those who are worthy of redemption; here shown  in the honest, loving Mrs Midget and the genuine humility of Tom Prior – are each punished or rewarded according to their dues. It is a quirk of the narrative that the Reverend Duke escapes all judgement – is, in fact, immediately invited by the Examiner (a Reverend whose ‘flock’ now dwell in the afterlife) to assist in the judgement of his fellow passengers. Are those who take the cloth in life not subject to the same criteria at the pearly gates as those who have not? According to Vane, it seems so.

It is Ann and Henry, the most elusive characters, that the film adaptation uses to promote itself – as seen in the quote from the Warner Bros trailer above – which focuses on their forbidden love, their desire for each other stronger even than death, but it is only towards the end that Vane highlights their plight, and the contrast between the pair and the other passengers. Like Scrubby, Ann and Henry are ‘half-ways’, existing in a twilight state between life and death; the Examiner has not been informed of their arrival. Will they go on? Can they go back? Their story provides an alternative to the binary Heaven/Hell choice of the others, and in resolving their undecided half-state, the play also ends, leaving the Steward again alone at the bar of the boat, waiting for his next sailing.

Outward Bound is playing at the Finborough Theatre until 25 February. For more information and tickets, see the Finborough Theatre website.

Philip Ridley’s The Pitchfork Disney in its revival at Arcola Theatre leaves you with more questions than it provides answers. Ridley’s text is wondrously descriptive, evoking a post-apocalyptic world where each character resorts to their primitive nature. Locked in a house and abandoned by their parents, Presley (Chris New) and Haley Stray (Mariah Gale) devour chocolate, and tell stories to each other about a nuclear-bombed world outside their front door. Their troubled imaginations provoke hysteria in Haley, leaving Presley to be the carer of the two. It is only when Cosmo Disney (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett) is invited into their home that the outside world forces its way into their idyllic and twisted lifestyle.

Ridley’s ability to capture his audience through his imaginative writing, which links religious figures with grotesque portrayals of society and consumerism, against these two dysfunctional lost-in-their-own-minds young adults, make The Pitchfork Disney a real gem. Once considered to be part of the In-Yer-Face ‘movement’ of writing, Ridley’s text forces images onto the stage that will at times make you squirm with discomfort and want to shut your ears off from vulgar dialogue. This discomfort is all part of the joy that The Pitchfork Disney can achieve, acting as a play to make its audience confront its dark images, like a mirror being held up for us to truly see our wrongdoings reflected.

However, in Edward Dick’s revival, The Pitchfork Disney acts more as a message only half delivered, where a certain misfortune of Anne Cooper’s casting places the pivotal role of Cosmo Disney with the slightly awkward Stewart-Jarrett. You could see this as a fine performance in which Cosmo’s “big boy attitude of perfection” is easily shot down, but Stewart-Jarrett’s performance seems a weak point in the otherwise thrilling revival.

New and Gale as the brother and sister duo are phenomenal at presenting two characters clearly too caught up in their own imaginations to understand the dysfunction that has set in around them. New’s performance, especially when delivering Ridley’s poetic monologues, sucks the audience from their seats and into the imagined world he portrays. Never do we question his character, and never do we lose sight of the metaphors in which he speaks.

Dick’s overall direction is strong at working Ridley’s text within the confides of a somewhat-derelict house, with a particular knack of giving the production a continued driving force so never does it linger too long. The Pitchfork Disney doesn’t shock as perhaps it once did, but it certainly does entertain. The complexities of the characters’ situations and imagined worlds might have you wondering how the production stands when so little is developed from the characters – they are ultimately and inevitably stuck within Ridley’s world. Yet this is what makes Ridley’s play stand the test of time. It still manages to capture our imaginations and allows us to soar on the sometimes disgusting, sometimes heartening, dialogue.

Whilst Stewart-Jarrett’s performance is lacking (there was a particular moment when you couldn’t help but see the mechanics of an actor acting) The Pitchfork Disney is a real, tongue-twisting and genital-groping joy of a production. The Arcola Theatre has clearly outdone itself and reminded us that though it might appear a bit make-shift, the focus of work is bang on the mark. The Pitchfork Disney might leave you a bit puzzled and questioning what you’ve just seen, but isn’t that better than some of the non-thinking dead theatre played out across London at the moment? At least this show has life – even if it does come in the form of cockroaches.

The Pitchfork Disney is playing at the Arcola Theatre until 17 March. For more information and tickets, see the Arcola Theatre website.

In June 2011, Lyn Gardner and I co-hosted a discussion through Improbable’s ‘Devoted and Disgruntled Satellites’ with the question: “What are we going to do about theatre criticism?” During this D&D session, I put forward an idea of my own that I wanted to explore: “Beyond the words?”. It was an attempt for me to understand and explore how a theatre critic can do more than just watch theatre and review. How could a critic really begin to go beyond just their words, and interrogate the process, the making of work, and could they ultimately help to shape the work at its source: in the rehearsal room.

The session threw lots of questions and ideas around, and for many, it came down to what the role of the critic is, why they should do more, and who would be willing to do or host such a thing. The discussion moved through how a critic could be placed in rehearsal rooms, act as campaigners for work, or help support work through funding applications. In short, there was no real answer; theatre critics are by and large not given the time, opportunity or column space to develop relationships further with makers. Further, could this potentially dilute what a critic is? Nonetheless, the question of how a critic could do more than just write reviews stayed with me, and I have been looking for ways in which I could explore it.

I have, after some time, been given the opportunity to do just this. After meeting with Oval House Theatre’s Co-Director Rebecca Atkinson-Lord, questions and excitement came bubbling up in our discussions on how A Younger Theatre, or I as an individual, could be involved in its forthcoming First Bites… If Only season. I wanted to be placed within the rehearsal room for a period of time to explore a company’s method of creating work. I wanted to discover for myself, and to document online, how the very fibers of creating theatre were woven together. Now, it would be wise to point out that I did ‘train’ at drama school, and have previously devised performance work myself, but have since sat back and been a critic for a year or more.

After writing a lengthy proposal, which was approved, I have been partnered with theatre company Dirty Market Theatre, which has kindly allowed me to observe its rehearsals before and during its two-week slot at Oval House.

So now is my time to begin to explore the idea of a critic sitting in the rehearsal room and documenting the work for an online audience during the process. This will be presented through Digital Dirty Market, an online space where I aim to present my findings, be they scribbled notes, photos, videos or just observations. I hope that this body of work will build throughout the next month, and will offer those who choose to explore it a certain understanding of how Dirty Market creates theatre. It is no easy task for the company or me to build this relationship and to experiment; it is trial and error but I hope it will prove to be interesting all the same.

Digital Dirty Market is very much a starting point for discussions. It will become a space, I hope, that seeks to break out of the traditional forms of online marketing – because ultimately this is not my purpose – and begin to open out the rehearsal process of a company. I wish to really understand, to gauge as an outside eye, what it takes, what it means to be theatre makers. I hope that through these observations I can challenge and question the making of a piece of work. I hope to move away from just writing reviews, as an often disengaged as a theatre critic, and move into the interactivity of theatre making, to bridge the gap between audience and work. I shall be critical but observant.

If anything, Dirty Market Theatre, Oval House and I are taking a leap into the unknown, and I hope that you will join me too. I’ll be posting a weekly update through A Younger Theatre, but the main body of work can be explored through Digital Dirty Market.

The teenage exploits of Georgia Nicolson and the Ace Gang have become a global phenomenon since their introduction in Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, earning author Louise Rennison the title of ‘Queen of Teen’ and a number one spot on the New York Times bestsellers list. Ten fabbity books and a hit film later, and Georgia is being unleashed again – this time, in Rennison’s hometown of Leeds, on stage at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Adapted by Rennison and Leeds writer Mark Catley, Angus, Thongs and Even More Snogging is described by the author as the “highlights” of all ten novels, chronicling Georgia’s attempts to win the affections of Sex God Robbie whilst negotiating the problems of friendship, infuriating parents, shaving off your own eyebrows, and, of course, boys.

Launching Georgia on the Northern stage is a project Rennison calls her “dream”, especially after the disappointment of having little involvement in the 2008 film adaption of the novels. “When the film was made, I was very upset, because I was so left out of the process. To their credit, they did want to include me, but they were running such a big business, I didn’t have a voice in it.” Throughout this period, Rennison hung on to the thought that if she ever got the chance she would create her own version at the West Yorkshire Playhouse, although admits that she believed “there was no chance of it coming true”. Clearly, sometimes you get exactly what you wish for.

Despite this, Rennison had to adjust to the transition from writing novels to writing for the stage: “I know I have to listen to other people, which is quite tricky sometimes, but I’m learning.” The main difficulty arises from the fact that the books are driven by “girls rambling on about snogging” rather than a discernable plot line. Rennison recognises that, unlike with books, “you can’t snuggle up to a theatre experience, you can’t read a bit and put it down – there has to be a something that happens.” Luckily, Leeds-based writer Mark Catley is on hand to move the process along. “Mark has written for Eastenders, and I think if you can write for that you can write for anything. He kind of browbeat me, because I was just going ‘oh I don’t know, it’s just about feelings’, so he had to read all ten books, poor sod. He started talking like Georgia, the language and everything.”

It seems that the male species doesn’t always understand the world of teenage girls. Rennison remembers friend Alan Davies (who plays Georgia’s father in the film version) “writing a little something to put on the outside of the book, and it said ‘I wish I’d read this when I was a teenager because I wouldn’t have tried to get on with girls because they’re mad’.” A “mad” incident that has often prompted male confusion is when Georgia visits the house of a “snogging professional” to learn how to kiss, an occurrence that comes directly from Rennison’s own teenage experience. “Funnily enough,” the writer says, “maybe it’s just a Seacroft thing [the area of Leeds where Rennison grew up], because this man saw me on Look North and said there was a boy at his school that charged 10p for you to hit him in the stomach, just to practise.” It’s not just queuing up for snogging lessons that hails from Rennison’s past, but many of the other embarrassing incidents, including the memorable occasion when Georgia attends a party dressed as a stuffed olive. The author believes that attending an all-girls school can account for these hilarious anecdotes, as she was less self-conscious without the knowledge that girls “weren’t supposed to be funny” around boys. “The whole stuffed olive thing – I spent all day with my mates making this big cage. There was nobody to say, ‘well, that’s a really shit idea actually. You’re going to regret that’,” she adds, laughing. “But you wouldn’t believe it, when window cleaners turned up, or any boys no matter what age, we would just follow them around going, ‘Look, they’re doing boy things!’”

When Rennison wasn’t marvelling at sex gods or dressing up in questionable outfits, theatre played a significant role in her life. Rennison recollects her family’s involvement in the entertainment business – her great-grandmother arrived in the UK during the potato famine and set up an Irish Centre that housed touring bands. “All the Irish bands used to come through, and they’d come and stay with us, so the house would be full of entertainers. So I’ve always been interested in that.” The theatrical spirit obviously rubbed off on Rennison, who spent her childhood creating makeshift plays in her garage, and later touring with her two-handed version of Fellini’s La Dolce Vita. “I’d be Anita Ekberg, and my poor friend Jane had to be everything – the village people, the circus, the bridge,” she remembers. “It was fun because we used to travel around in the luggage compartments of trains, with these mountains made out of foam.” After years of being involved in low budget shows, staging a play in a theatre as fancy as the West Yorkshire Playhouse feels like a bit of a step up: “I’ve never actually worked in a theatre where you’ve got a lighting designer and a costume designer, it’s fantastic. It’s very different, very exciting.”

Even though Rennison’s creations are now produced on grander stages, she enforces their accessibility: “People think theatre is a posh thing, but it’s not. All that Shakespeare and stuff, it was really the dregs of society that went to those theatres, and peed on the back of people’s legs and all of that.” Whilst Angus… will hopefully not include urinating on audience members, Rennison insists: “we haven’t compromised to patronise – it’s really funny. When I read my books, my mum says to me, ‘Are you still laughing at your own books?’, but when you see other people bring something to life that you’ve written, it’s just amazing.”

Apart from laughter, what does Rennison hope Georgia’s story will give to her young audiences? “I think that although she’s a twat and can really get on your nerves, it’s always been important to me to be kind, to communicate and to be aware of what you’re doing. And also to express the deep love you have for your mates.” She names one of the most “touching” compliments she ever received arriving in the form of a letter from Ireland. “The mother wrote to me and said, ‘I can hear my daughter laughing at your book. This is the first book she’s ever read. She’s fifteen, and she was humiliated at school about her reading ability.’” This idea of a young girl being “in her own world, where she’s free” is clearly very rewarding for Rennison.

Fans of Georgia’s adventures are also contacting the author from further afield, with American girls even writing to request “more British words” ever since the books were endowed with glossaries for those not well-acquainted with such Georgia-isms as “nunga-nungas” and “fandago”. “They even think snogging’s British!” Rennison exclaims. Yet Rennison believes that British fans are the most revealing in the way they communicate. “The Americans are so serious. They did this mental examination of my books, which alarmingly said Georgia was a good role model. I don’t know where they got that from! But they also said it was interesting how English people are so confident in their language; they twist it and turn it and make jokes within jokes and use a lot of words. I think that’s true.” The letters Rennison receives from her British fans are often written in a distinctly Georgia-esque colloquial manner. “They will go: ‘Dear Lou. Hi. Erm’ – and they’ll write ‘erm’ – ‘Hang on, my pen’s run out’ – which it indeed has as it will just trail off – ‘Hi, er, god, so bored, had to go to school today, AGAIN’, in capitals. They’re very emphatic.”

Understanding the power of language is something that’s very important to Rennison. She comments on how slang was inherent to her own friendship group. “We definitely had a code, something that was secret to us. Sadly, I still do it. I’ve always liked that, you know: ‘as thick as a thick thing on thick tablets in thick land’. It [the slang used in her novels] comes from years and years of doing that kind of thing. Each group of teenagers is unique.” Without a doubt, accessing the inner workings of a 14-year-old’s mind comes easily to Rennison. “People say, ‘Is it because you’re childish?’ There is an element of that, but it’s also because I’ve got a good memory – when it’s your life you can tap into that emotional memory.”

Despite her obvious love of language and books (“Even if I haven’t got time to read, I can’t go to bed without a book under my pillow, it makes me frightened. You can just get in it, can’t you?”), Rennison names theatre as her “favourite thing”. She fondly recalls seeing Kevin Spacey perform in “the humpy one” (that’s Richard III to you and me) at the Old Vic, where some men gave up their seats for an elderly lady. “She said it was the first time she’d been to the theatre in five years, since her husband died, because they used to come together but she didn’t have the heart for it anymore. But she thought it was such a spectacular show that she’d come, and at the end she said, ‘I can’t tell you how transforming that was.’ You wouldn’t get that in somewhere like the cinema – that opportunity for really proper human contact.” As Rennison states, “that’s what you get from theatre”, and what she hopes will be brought to the audiences of Leeds via Georgia and her friends.

After years of delighting young readers with her tales of hilariosity, it seems only natural that Rennison brings Georgia back to her hometown of Leeds to be recreated on stage. There might even be more in store for the Ace Gang after Angus, Thongs and Even More Snogging, with Rennison mentioning the possibility of spin offs as well as a potential stage version of her latest “very Northern, more gothic” book series Withering Tights, premiering, as you might expect, in Leeds. “I’d love to come back to theatre. I’d like to make it a tradition that I come back here to the West Yorkshire Playhouse.” Whatever happens, this isn’t the last we’ll be hearing of Georgia’s notorious Viking Bison Disco Inferno Dance, her troublesome boy entrancers and those really big knickers.

You can see Angus, Thongs, and Even More Snogging at the West Yorkshire Playhouse from 11 February to 03 March 2012. Get tickets online or by calling the box office on 0113 213 7700.

Image 1: by Keith Pattison: Full cast with director Ryan McBryde (centre in blue jumper)
Image 2: Louise Rennison
Image 3: by Keith Pattison: L-R Rachel Caffrey (Jas), Emily Houghton (Rosie), Yemisi Oyinloye (Ellen) and Naomi Petersen (Georgia)

Despite the years spent visiting theatres in and around London, this is the first time I’ve stumbled across the Tabard. Above a pub of the same name and a minute’s walk from Turnham Green tube, the theatre has an impressive record stretching back to 1985. Firstly concentrating on new writing the venue, currently owned and run by Pulling Focus Ltd, it now programmes all kinds of performances including stand up, musicals, adaptations of classic plays as well as (true to its roots) new writing such as Elastic Bridge. Elastic Bridge is devised, written and performed by John Tomlinson, Rosie MacPherson and Andrew Draper who, together with Eddie Fortune, make up theatre company Strawberry Blonde Curls. The group began working together in Summer 2010, exploring ideas for performance using character-based improvisation techniques.

Elastic Bridge is a product of this and, fresh from first runs at the Lowry in Manchester and the Unity in Liverpool, is perfect for the intimate space of the Tabard. The three characters Alex (played by Draper), Sylvia (MacPherson) and Kurt (Tomlinson) arrive one by one at the bridge. It’s Friday evening and each of them is, at first, so engrossed in their own worries that they think they’re alone. Drawn to the bridge by their separate problems and fears, they all share a common goal. They’re here to end it all.

With comedy, pathos and more than a touch of gallows humour, Alex, Sylvia and Kurt each tell their reason for being here. For Alex, disillusionment with the world is paramount – after a lifetime of being told what to do, the prospect of a future filled with a dull job has lost him his sense of self and brought him to despair. Sylvia, the beautiful but unsuccessful actress, has more to mourn than the lack of a starring role and behind her lurks the wreckage of a dysfunctional relationship, the pressure of which has forced her to the brink. Kurt, an accountant, has always had problems being sociable – he’s never felt part of the ‘gang’, wherever and whatever that might be. Overlooked in love, underappreciated in life and fed up at work, he is the tightest wound spring of all – and when that tension is unleashed, what will be the result?

The stage is uncluttered with the bridge providing the main centre of action. The larger story is divided by blackouts into ‘chapters’, allowing the narrative to develop in stages as the focus shifts from person to person. At points the main story diverges into flashback vignettes of each character’s life – some distant past, some recent – and here the action extends to the forestage and, at one point, into the auditorium. With the inclusion of a back-story for each character, the piece finds more depth and begins to explore the myriad complexities that compose people and their problems – my only gripe is that I wanted to hear more of Kurt, who is the least developed of the three and whose past violence is left largely untreated in any detail.

Each of the trio’s characters have moments of darkness and light, and are allowed to develop into three-dimensions – we see their pasts and how, although separate and distinct, each is now through this chance encounter inextricably linked with the others, as they search for the whys and the hows of being alive.

Elastic Bridge is playing at the Tabard Theatre until 18 February. For more information and tickets, see the Tabard Theatre website. Photos courtesy of Lily Blacksell.

We’ve all had those moments of sudden self awareness in life when we realise we are acting out a genuine cliché. Whether it’s coming home from a bad day at work and melodramatically throwing ourselves onto our beds, pacing a room waiting for some important news, or holding our heads in our hands in all-encompassing despair, as actors we often look to such extreme situations for inspiration in future performances.

But do these hackneyed gestures hold any weight with the analytical audiences of modern theatre? Or can they be an alienating influence, breaking suspension of disbelief and reminding spectators that they are in fact watching a fiction, played out on a stage?

In Brecht’s Epic Theatre, a stock gestus such as a fist raised in anger is used as a Verfremdungseffekt [a distancing effect], specifically to achieve this aim. The audience becomes distanced from losing themselves in the character, and is forced to consider the piece and its intentions as a consciously critical observer. Brecht himself would often clarify this by taking photographs in the rehearsal room to be carefully studied by the company, in order to ensure that each tableau clearly reflected the story.

But the agenda has changed in today’s theatre. In Nazi Germany, set against the backdrop of Hitler’s rise to power, Brecht’s intention was to show that human behaviour is a product of its environment, and that significant changes needed to be in made in society – that a capitalist dictatoriship was an untenable mistake for his country. Though his work remains influential, and a vital development in drama history, the jaded theatregoers of today are more in pursuit of a universal truth – we want to see human life on stage, our own behaviour, our relationhips and our capacities reflected back at us.

Brecht’s socialist principles may remain relevant in today’s climate (in fact now more than ever we need to engage and be shaken out of our political and social apathy), but equally vital is an audience’s need to invest and to be transported, if only for two-and-a-half hours in a darkened auditorium.

It is worth considering, then, the ancestry of these sterotypes– surely for these responses to become so common place, they must have a grain of authenticity in them? I’ve paced a few corridors in my time, and I’ve certainly experienced my fair share of melodramatic histrionics. The only cliché-ridden activity I can honestly say I’ve never taken part in is taking a phonecall without saying “hello” or “goodbye” (maybe that’s just an American thing).

When you understand that the root of these platitudinous reactions is often instinctive, such as the urge to throw something in an argument or to slam a door, as an actor you can also enjoy subverting them. Maybe your character wants to smash something but there’s only valuable china on the table, or he is worried about actually hitting someone. Perhaps the energy of despair isn’t always expressed as a downward force, it can take you up and out of your seat, like a wounded animal throwing itself against the side of its cage.

Sometimes, though, with a genuine motivation behind it, a cliché can be the most powerful, relateable human response. Hell, I’m writing this in a dark room, illuminated by the glow of my laptop, stroking my chin when I can’t think of words and periodically rubbing my eyes – if that isn’t the archetype of the mawkish creative then I don’t know what is.

Image by Lloyd Morgan.

The Offies (The Off West End Theatre Awards)

How did you get involved with The Offies?

I am a member of the Haymarket Masterclass and saw online that Sofie Mason of OffWestEnd.com was launching a new awards body. I applied to be an Offies Assessor, which involved writing a review of a play I had found particularly inspiring, and happily I was accepted.

Could you tell us about your background?

After an English Literature degree, which was mostly spent on stage, I trained as an actress at Webber Douglas. I also spent a year as an emerging vocal artist at the Southbank Centre, which alongside performing, included writing both lyrics and scripts.

Do you have any special personal interests amongst The Offies’ categories?

As an actress, I am obviously particularly interested in acting, direction and script. However, with my assessor hat on, all the categories are important and I will think about each award category when I watch a show. A play that is nominated is generally outstanding across the award categories relevant to it.

How are things going so far?

It has been great.  I have met some lovely fellow assessors and it is a wonderful way of seeing all kinds of theatre and theatre spaces.  It opens up your mind to genres of theatre that perhaps you would not have chosen to go to previously and certainly keeps you up to date with what is going on in the industry. Assessing allows you to flex your analytical skills and also educates you about what works on stage as well as what doesn’t. It also makes you an expert navigator of London. I reckon I will be eligible for The Knowledge soon!

What does a young assessor bring to the awards?

Open mindedness towards work that pushes boundaries and dares to be different, and an eagerness to see new writing in particular. All Offies assessors come to see shows in a positive capacity – we are here to make sure your innovative set design or wonderful direction does not go unnoticed. We are here to highlight work and provide a platform to promote theatre that deserves more recognition.

How important are these awards for fringe companies and in particular for young people?

I think The Offies are really important for fringe companies, young people and anyone involved in theatre. The hope is they will put theatre companies on the map and help springboard them into a bigger consciousness within the industry and the general public too.

As an assessor, do you feel a sense of pressure and responsibility towards making sure the best of what’s out there is being represented and getting the attention it deserves?

Yes, very much so. The fringe is where so many top productions and companies germinate, and as an assessor I certainly feel a responsibility to find and champion the best work. It is also really exciting to help raise awareness of an outstanding show or individual so they do get the attention they deserve.

So young companies should apply for consideration for The Offies?

Yes, absolutely. If you are going to be performing to an audience for more than three weeks you have nothing to lose by inviting us to see your work.

What are the benefits of winning, or being shortlisted for, an Offie?

I hope that winning an award, or being shortlisted, boosts confidence and confirms that your work is being taken seriously. Winning an Offie certainly puts you or your company into the spotlight and raises awareness of your work, too, which hopefully leads to exciting opportunities. It is about recognition and raising the profile of a show or individual that might otherwise have gone under the radar. I would like to think that the benefits will increase as The Offies continue – we are only in our second year – and it will be exciting to watch the careers of previous and forthcoming winners. From fringe acorns…

Other opinions on the Offies…

Panelist and London theatre critic for The International Herald Tribune Matt Wolf agrees that “the Offies are great because one feels as if one is getting a sense of tomorrow’s theatre-makers today, and that feels like a very exciting place to be – not to mention huge fun, as well.”

Assessors Richard and Kathy Lynam added: “The real thrill for us is seeing new talent burst through and start to reach not only their own artistic fulfilment but also an appreciative and wider public. This kind of theatre is not merely important, it is absolutely essential because all of British theatre and thus a major element of British cultural life is built on it. If you examine the career paths of our major theatre talents, virtually every one will have started in Off West End productions. Very few have gone straight from, say, the catwalk to national acclaim. And even those who have often return to small theatre to learn. The Offies are an essential part of this essential theatre because everyone – but particularly young theatre companies – needs recognition in their lives, aspiration for their future and to learn from others’ success. The Offies deliver these with grace, modesty and joy in the theatre art.”

Find out more about The Offies on OffWestEnd.com.

I recently came across this crowdfunded arts project, headed by Stuart Murdoch from indie pop band Belle & Sebastian, aiming to raise enough money to fund his musical feature film God Help The Girl. This concept interested me firstly because I love Belle & Sebastian, and secondly because the idea of a musical funded by its future audience is a pretty exciting one. The premise is this: a sum of money is required (in this case, $100,000) to be raised by a certain date (12 February), and people who believe the project is worthwhile can donate to the cause. Big donations come with the promise of rewards, such as a chance to visit the set, but if the money isn’t raised the project is called off. Essentially: a musical is brought to life by those most eager to see its creation.

Community funded arts projects are not a new concept. With the repercussions of governmental cuts being increasingly felt, more and more potentially brilliant ideas are falling by the wayside with no conceivable way for artists to bring their work to audience. New writing is given a back seat whilst tried and tested favourites (I’m thinking about all those jukebox musicals…) are rolled out to bring in the crowds. Group funded arts projects are a way to combat this stagnation and give a voice to those underrepresented in the world of theatre, and are realised on such popular funding sites as WeFund, Sponsume, IndieGoGo, and Stuart Murdoch’s choice, Kickstarter.

There are numerous advantages to approaching creativity in this manner. Apart from the aforementioned benefit – that opportunities are provided to those otherwise unable to get a foot in the metaphorical stage door – crowdfunded projects also provide a ready-made fan base in the event of the project’s completion, giving the audience exactly what they want as they are the ones choosing what deserves support. I imagine it’s a great feeling to watch a performance knowing that you were involved from the very start, and can claim to have paid for, say, one thousandth of the creation. It builds links between the audience and arts organisations that are stronger and more intertwined than ever before, introducing arts patronage that extends beyond the seventeenth-century aristocracy supporting an up-and-coming playwright to include a diverse range of theatregoers with a vested interest in the outcome of a particular piece. Patronage, but in plurality.

A site that is of particular use to theatregoers is WeDidThis, a crowdfunding platform specifically dedicated to UK arts organisations. The success stories listed online are encouraging: from Brighton-based theatre company Witness Theatre managing to raise enough money to set up camp at the Brighton Fringe for five days with its production of The Importance of Being Earnest, to the inspirational story of Catalyst Rwanda raising over £2,000 to set up sustainable arts programmes for genocide victims – there is evidently scope to achieve amazing results. This kind of platform is especially useful for young theatre makers who are just establishing their identity – with Witness Theatre being run by two recent graduates, WeDidThis provided an opportunity for their talent to be recognised by the public. As WeDidThis founder Ed Whiting commented in a Guardian culture blog: “We believe that relationships that start with a very small donation and a relatively simple reward can grow to enrich both the creative and financial resilience of the arts sector, and the cultural lives and experiences of those who give to it.” This is the essence of crowdfunding: giving a little to make a huge difference to both struggling theatre creators and the people their art will one day affect.

Community funding doesn’t have to stop at producing theatre, but can stretch as far as literally building theatre, as touring theatre company Paines Plough is currently attempting to prove. The company has decided to produce a stage that is a little more permanent than grassy fields and historical sites in the form of a touring mini-amphitheatre, dubbed The Roundabout Auditorium, giving people across the UK the chance to experience its work in a theatre-in-the-round. The possibilities are endless – if Plaines Plough can flat-pack the theatrical experience, Ikea-style, even the most outlandish idea has a chance of becoming a reality.

As with most concepts, there are downsides to this type of collaboration. With anyone being able to post their ideas, there are an awful lot of projects requiring funding and not enough donations to go around. As Liverpool-based artist Emily Speed notes: “Kickstarter claim that around half the projects they feature make their funding goal”, which leaves half the projects having to be abandoned or rethought – appealing to the masses doesn’t always guarantee a response. However, as Speed concedes, this 50% figure is “comparable to, or higher than some UK regions in the Arts Council England ‘Grants for the Arts’ success rates”, meaning companies have an equal chance of gaining funding without having to fill out copious forms and wait around for a decision. As this categorical breakdown of Kickstarter’s stats illuminates, over $4m were pledged by 50,144 people to 931 successful theatre projects in 2011. Although these were mostly US-based, this still illustrates the level of interest in crowdfunding, with nearly 1,000 theatre projects coming into existence due to grassroots support.

Part of the beauty of crowdfunding is that creators can influence the progress of their project by interacting with supporters and promoting the idea online. In this sense, Stuart Murdoch’s God Help the Girl has a bit of a head start – they can appeal to Belle & Sebastian’s established fan base, and have the support in tweet-form from celebrity fans such as Zooey Deschanel and Matt Lucas, meaning their project has the potential to reach millions of Twitter users in a matter of clicks. For those without this kind of advantage, crowdfunding requires marketing the project directly to the crowds. Social networking sites are a great platform for this; with a thriving theatre community willing to lend a promotional hand, simply getting the project retweeted is a way to drum up support. Some other good ideas to maximise exposure include posting videos and photos to give donators an insight into the project’s progress, offering rewards to supporters and gaining press coverage to allow the project to reach more audiences. There are also the business aspects to consider – dedicated commitment is required from creators, a detailed and compelling pitch must be written, and an accurate budget needs to be produced to make sure what is promised can actually be followed through. Community funding might be a great way to give creativity a chance, but it takes a little more effort than simply posting your idea online and waiting for the money to flood in.

On the positive side, even if crowdfunding doesn’t result in the target being achieved, getting feedback from the online community is a bit like having a ready-made focus group – a way to present your ideas to both fans and new supporters, network with the arts community, hear the audience’s reaction, and adjust your project to include the suggestions of others. An idea that perhaps doesn’t initiate the desired response first time round may lead to contacts being made and long-term fans being procured for future proposals.

Funding the arts collaboratively is a way to meld ideas and generate new ones, fuelling creativity in the most imaginative way possible. I’m hoping that the Belle & Sebastian-esque film musical manages to make it off the ground, in order to, as stated by producer Barry Mendel, “show the powers that be that there’s grassroots support for our project”. But whatever happens, there are thousands of brilliant arts projects floating around the internet that need the support of the public, proving that even in the face of government cuts, the world of theatre remains resilient and creativity remains abundant.

Telling the story of a king’s jealous paranoia, The Winter’s Tale sees Leontes accuse his blameless wife Hermione and friend Polixenes of adultery, and banish his newborn daughter. Sixteen years pass until we then meet the princess Perdita, who, having been rescued by a shepherd, has fallen in love with Polixenes’s son. The play feels experimental in style, shifting mercurially from tragedy to comedy. The strength of Propeller’s version is the way it embraces, rather than fighting against, these incongruities, in both design and performance. Much about this production is visually striking, from the prison-like set of mirrored steel to the eerie Ken-doll-sized mannequins and ritualistic six-foot candelabras that populate the stage.

The first half of the play, a sombre Sicilia in the 1940s, captures Leontes’ descent into paranoia immaculately. At the helm, Robert Hands brings humanity to the king’s stark melancholia, but Richard Dempsey as a statuesque Hermione is riveting, skilfully evoking the queen’s calm serenity and steadiness. As I was ideologically adverse to the exclusion of women from the stage, it was with surprise that I warmed so quickly to Dempsey’s Hermione. Catherine Love recently noted on The Guardian that audiences love the comedy of men playing women. Here, there were certainly titters at the initial appearance of a pregnant Hermione, but by the time we see her on trial, fresh from labour in a blood-stained shift, I certainly no longer saw a man playing a woman. I believed her femininity in all its incarnations, from strength to vulnerability. Vince Leigh too gives a standout performance as Paulina, embodying a thousand shades of power, humour, irony, fear and wisdom.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of Shakespeare’s text is the change of location to Bohemia, 16 years later. Yet this was where the flair of Hall’s production really took flight. The action fast-forwards to the swinging ’60s, Shakespeare’s original pastoral setting transformed into a flower-power festival complete with neon tents, ‘The Bleatles’ singing sheep band and the rock-god rogue Autolycus. Tony Bell can’t escape a mention here for the genuine hilarity of Autolycus’ debauched double act with Karl Davies’ loveably clueless shepherd. We are in the territory of stereotypes – of painted red lips, falsettos and bustiers – but as Autolycus presides over an a capella dance-off to Beyonce’s Single Ladies, there’s not a straight face to be seen.

Purists will question the ad-libbing that goes on here, but the Woodstock-esque setting captures perfectly Perdita’s freedom and lust for life, portrayed adeptly by Ben Allen. However, Allen is at his best as Leontes’ eerily silent son, Mamillius, who oversees the disturbing events of the first half in striped pyjamas. In a clever conceit, the teddy bear he clutches throughout the play becomes the bear that tears Antigonus to pieces. Hall creates a dreamy atmosphere of child’s play that enhances the nightmarish quality of Leontes’ madness, and works perfectly here to solve the problem of the play’s infamously tricky stage direction.

A production of two halves - but justifiably so – and one that captures cleverly the fluctuations of the play. Joyful and devastating in equal measure, this really is Shakespeare for a new generation; a generation that will relish this Winter’s Tale‘s mash up of Levi-sporting sheep and beatboxing shepherds. The revelation of the evening? Shakespeare coined the phrase “jog on”. Don’t believe me? Jog on and read Act IV, Scene 2.

The Winter’s Tale is currently playing at the Sheffield Lyceum until 4 February. For more information and to book tickets, visit the theatre’s website here.

The production then tours in rep with Henry V until July 2012. For more information and to book tickets, visit Propeller’s website here.