I loathe football. It’s the type of sport which brings back chilling reminders of being forced to kick a ball up and down a patch of grass at school in the middle of winter when my desires were clearly in the warmth of the drama department. Let’s face it, football isn’t for everyone, but it seems to get the nation rattled up no end. Total Football by Ridiculusmus looks at how 500 million citizens each year sweat blood and tears over this game. Framed within having to put together the best football team to represent Team GB in the 2012 Olympics, Ridiculusmus presents a farcical two-hander that is both absurd and utterly ridiculous as a performance in the Barbican Pit Theatre.

Having been created, written and performed by Jon Haynes and David Woods, there is a distinct quality to Total Theatre that allows it to be thrown around, just as in the game in question. Where the players on the pitch might be passing the ball between themselves, Haynes and Woods reflect this motion; their dialogue acts as the dynamic of the game itself. Total Football goes a long way to create a false sense of what football does for a nation, which is executed in Haynes and Wood’s attempt at putting together Team GB when Scotland, Wales and Ireland pull out from allowing anyone from their country to participate. Just like the long-running politics between nations, Great Britain is divided and so will this team be.

As performers, Haynes and Woods have a difficult task in keeping the dialogue and pace afoot. Their continual swapping of characters and situations means that you have to invest in them as performers and characters otherwise you’ll be left behind. It is clear that both Haynes and Woods are excellent performers, they have brilliant stage presences, and their abilities to swap characters and voices without changing out of their suit costumes is commendable. However, I struggled to engage with them, and, although this is of course a purely personal take, it affected my overall experience of the show. It is only after reflecting on some of the bigger issues surrounding the piece that I can marvel at how much Ridiculusmus as a company has managed to squeeze into Total Footnall whilst doing so in a completely absurd manner.

A burning questions has to be if Total Football is enjoyable for those people, like me, who dislike the sport? For the most part, yes. Ridiculusmus is careful to not make Total Football only for those who love the sport. There are great comical moments to be had in the rambling explanations of the off-side rule, or in describing certain players and their tactics. The show goes beyond just a look at football as a sport and into the ideas of nationalism and how we can celebrate being British today. This is wonderfully contrasted with the character of an Alabanian cleaner who is attempting to gain citizenship in the UK, learning songs and phrases which, even to someone born and raised in this country, seem absurd. Total Football asks a lot of questions about who we are, probing at the notions of being British whilst at the same time subtly telling us that our obsession with football is so trivial that it is ultimately just as farcical as the idea of kicking a ball up and down some grass as entertainment.

By the end of Total Football it is not so much about the game, but rather how government bodies try to understand the nature of society, our happiness and engagement with sporting events. Can a team of British players in the football section of the Olympics really lift a society’s spirits, bringing out prosperity and happiness? Well, no, but it can for those that truly invest. Just like theatre as a method of entertainment, it can offer us highs and lows, but if it was completely removed from society it wouldn’t cause the downfall of England.

Just like Ridiculusmus tells us that football fanaticism can be utterly controlling and absurd to influence us so much, so can Total Football as a piece of theatre. Haynes and Woods present it as a bewildering farce, and I am left feeling that that’s all it is – a laugh, lifting the lid on the way our society works. Yet it doesn’t capture my spirit, it’s clearly not for me, and this is partly due to the topic. There might be some great performances but Total Football doesn’t quite score a winning game for me.

Total Football is playing at the Barbican until 18th June. For more information and tickets, see the website here.

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In Romeo Castellucci’s latest theatre piece, On the Concept of the Face, Regarding the son of God, as part of the Spill Festival 2011, there is sense of care and devotion in the sixty-minute action between a father and son. The father, a frail figure, has the inability to contain the contents of his bowels for more than fifteen minutes at a time. The son, like a devoted servant (albeit a little disgruntled and exhausted), repeatedly strips his father naked, washes him down and puts a fresh ‘nappy’ onto him.

This simple action makes up for the bulk of the performance, and whilst it is not the easiest of human functions to witness (nor for that matter see spilling out across a pristine white flooring) it is the tender desperation between father and son that makes for a captivating performance. The father (Gianni Plazzi), moans continually “sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” whilst the son (Sergio Scarlatella) repeatedly tells him “there’s no need to say sorry”. The helplessness of the whole situation turns from at first a humourous affair into a tragic cycle of desperation and devotion.

The performance at the Barbican was delivered without surtitles and whilst a hand-out translation was provided of the dialogue, it wasn’t needed to understand the relationship and actions that unfolded on the stage. The remarkably white set of a sofa, chairs, and bed gradually sees the father  moved between them and each time staining them with excrement . In the final moments, the father stands before the white bed and, without clever concealment as before and in full view of the audience, unscrews a large container and proceeds to pour excrement over himself and the bed before finally collapsing into heaving sobs and a pool of brown liquid.

Whilst graphic and yes, shocking if not disturbing to watch, it is this helpless and pathetic form of human life before us that becomes so compelling as a performance piece. Castellucci captures the raw and simplistic actions of the human body, and forms them with the subtle dialogue and situation of father and son in a devastating outcome.

There is a third presence within the space that Castellucci places so that it looms as a watchful eye over the events: that of a huge painting of Christ. Aside from a moment when the son, out of a desire for comfort, rests his face against the lips of Christ, it is not used until the final closing moments as a theatrical device that Castellucci uses to dramatically bring forth a religious metaphor.

With a booming soundscape of shrill sounds and whispers of prayers, the face of Christ begins to bulge and distort as figures press against its canvas form. Then, in a beautiful dramatic image, blood, tears and excrement pour down the face of Christ. With sound and lighting disorientating the audience and the figure of Christ distorted, the canvas erupts with letters that shine from Christ’s face spelling “You are my shepherd”.

As the stage hands remove the scenery and the lights begin to focus once more on the white flooring, all that is left is a dirtied trail of excrement and the distorted face of Christ. It is a poetic,  breathtaking and haunting image that will stay with me for a long time. Castellucci has previously proved that he is a master of contemporary ‘theatre of cruelty’, yet in On the Concept of the Face, Regarding the Son of God, he shows a tender, calmer yet just as profoundly disturbing site to his theatre. Utterly breathtaking.

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Last week, I spoke to Sarah ‘Roxie Hart’ Soetaert about her West End career. In a couple of days, I’ll be meeting Dan Bowling, one of the creative team behind Cats, Joseph and The Phantom of the Opera. All this talk of musical theatre made me consider the longevity of some of these shows, that can run for decades and still stick to their original template. Last year, Les Miserables celebrated its 25th anniversary – a quarter of a century since it opened (to negative reviews) in London. To mark this occasion, Sir Cameron Mackintosh commissioned a new version of the show, touring the country and eventually bringing it home to the Barbican Centre. A brand new creative team redirected, redesigned and re-imagined the musical, and yet some people grumbled at the announcement – why mess with the original?

It was only when The Mousetrap had been running for 48 years in London that a new set was built and installed, apart from the original clock on the mantelpiece, which remains to this day. The theatre claims to have sold 320 tonnes of ice cream while the show has been running – 58 years.

These long-running shows may replace their set, or alter their cast, but the original template still remains, like the symbolic clock on the mantelpiece. More often than not, when a long-running show is recast, they are not auditioned or directed by the original team. Rather, a resident or associate director will recreate the show, working from the initial director’s notes. The show will not evolve or develop: it will remain the same, and without due care, might stagnate into little more than a museum piece – a tourist attraction.

I spoke to Nigel Richards, a musical theatre performer and tutor at Arts Ed and LSMT. Nigel campaigns for fresh new writing in musical theatre, and shared his concerns about the lack of original material on the London theatre scene. He worries that “the creators of these shows may have been breaking new ground 25 years ago, but they’re certainly not looking after the art form anymore”. He looks to shows such as Mamma Mia that have spawned their own brand of ‘jukebox’ musical – stitching a loosely fitted story around existing music. “Young people see these shows, and think that this is what new musical theatre is,” he says. We spoke about the few new non-jukebox musicals that have surfaced recently. Nick Hytner’s new season at the National includes London Road, was originally billed as a new musical about serial killer Steve Wright, but now it has lost its nerve, a press statement admitting “we’re not going to call it a musical in future”. Rather, the show will see verbatim interviews set to music. At least this is new work and a step away from the culture of revivals that Trevor Nunn implemented in his time at the National – reproducing an old classic as a safe way of filling a musical theatre quota.

Perhaps ‘safety’ is at the heart of all of this, with producers unwilling to risk commissioning a potentially expensive flop (anyone remember Too Close To The Sun and Gone With The Wind?). My main concern is the potential for this risk-avoidance to be carried through to the shows that do actually get produced – with more and more orchestras being cut down, and more and more soloists being assisted with auto tune or click track. With this computer-based assistance, the West End seems to be focused on recreation – the same shows delivering identical performances day in, day out for 25 years.

I understand the practical, financial benefits of minimising risk and expenditure, allowing these shows to continue selling out and acting as a huge boost to our economy, but it does seem to beg the question: is it possible, these days, to remain an artist in musical theatre? Or is it the ‘art’ of these shows that they can continue to attract and entertain 25 years down the line?

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Trilogy is not an easy piece to digest. It is however the most liberating and exhilarating piece I have ever witnessed in my life.

As a man watching a piece about women and feminism I struggle to have the depth and understand that I should. As a gay man however, I understand the struggling against the freedom of who you are and the under appreciation you can get for being that person. I understand the feeling of being lost in a wave of oppression and feeling as if I don’t belong – no identity. This I guess, became my appreciation for Trilogy, that whilst I am not a woman, I have an understanding of what the piece stands for.

Trilogy is a post-modern, feminist, part dance, part video, part physical theatre, part audience participation, part liberation movement for woman. It’s a lot to throw into a single piece, especially over two hours, yet somehow Nic Green as director has done so in such a manner that the piece slips through the three parts (hence the title Trilogy) effortlessly.

What makes Trilogy so special, or rather what makes it so inspiring – so talked about, has to be the nudity. There is no way of avoiding it. It’s used in not a shock factor, nor a sexual expression of freedom, it is used in its purest form, that underneath all the clothes we are all the same – all naked, all women. (Unless of course, you are a man, then you are a naked man)

The Barbican stage is full of woman, all shapes and sizes, all naked, all moving in synchronised movement. There are bits and pieces bouncing up and down, there are woman screaming with joy and chanting. There are around 100-120 women bearing all – it is a sight that I will never witness again, but for those 7 minutes – I am in a state of shock. This is crazy, I tell myself. I can’t quite believe it… the Barbican stage is literally a mass of moving naked bodies.

End of Part One.

The audience erupts into spontaneous laughter and discussion – there is an energy in the theatre which I’ve never felt before. A sense of unison in saying that we just saw something that is mind blowing.

The rest of Trilogy combines a mixture of dance movements, with video projects from a feminist discussion back in the 60′s – to directly addressing the audience and challenging them to create their own female stories, or rather herstories. It’s clear that whilst this piece is about standing up and believing in being who you are, it is also clearly not a protest or overhauling what is in place – it is about expressing a desire for women to be shown more, to be appreciated more.

Trilogy is funny, witty, clever and has a heart felt message.

Possibly one of the most important things I take from Trilogy is the impact it had upon the audience. The ending of the show culminates in Green inviting members of the audience (female only) to come up onto the stage and bare all whilst we all sing Jerusalem. On the night I was there some 50 audiences members, maybe more, bounded up to the stage to take part.

These aren’t company members, they aren’t friends or family members of the cast – these are real women, who feel overwhelmed by the performance. They too become part of the story.

Have I ever seen a performance that has empowered the audience so much that they felt compelled to get naked in front of a huge auditorium on a sold out night? No. Will I ever see a performance like this again? I doubt it. – So let’s celebrate with what Trilogy does.

It gives hope, it gives excitement, freedom, liberation, and most of all, it gives a thoroughly entertaining night.

Never has a standing ovation been so justified.

Trilogy is now on tour around the UK, be sure to look out for it. This performance was part of the Barbican’s Bite 10.

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