Theatre Review: Ages of the Moon

The subgenre of plays that fall under the loose heading 'people sit and talk, nothing much actually happens' is one with which I have a difficult relationship. When they're good, they can be profoundly moving and beautiful things. When they're short of good, I tend to find myself trying to sneak a look at my watch every ten minutes or so.

Ages of the Moon by the late American playwright Sam Shepard definitively falls into this category. Two older men sit on a remote porch waiting to watch an eclipse, getting pissed and chatting a mixture of memory and nonsense. Their stories interweave as they each try and insert themselves into the others' past and everything gets steadily hazier. But in terms of action or, strictly speaking, plot, there's little to report.

Now, there's no question that Shepard's writing is good. It's lyrical, it captures that very certain sort of melancholy that's linked to age and memory, it sounds nice on the ear too. It's funny sometimes, though not as often as perhaps it ought to be. The confusion between fact and fiction is a pleasing head scratcher throughout.

But for me there's just something missing. It doesn't feel like there's anything behind this pretty writing; no tension, nothing bubbling away. A few times I thought that a big dramatic reveal was coming but each time nothing came of it. I briefly developed a theory that one of the characters was an imaginary physical manifestation of the other's mental illness, but alas I'm pretty sure I was wrong. By the end of the hour long run time (and I'm really not sure the play could carry itself if it were any longer) I was left pretty underwhelmed.

If this was true of the play, though, it wasn't true of the production. Director Alexander Lass has done about as good a job as I can imagine it's possible to do with this play. His production is well pitched and well paced. Holly Pigott's design is brilliant, so evocative of complete isolation, and Jai Morjaria's lighting is really beautiful. I loved the backlit effect for the eclipse.

The cast is anything but underwhelming too. Christopher Fairbank and Joseph Marcell (aka Moxey from Auf Wiedersehen, Pet and Jeffrey the butler from Fresh Prince of Bel Air) are not an obvious pairing but kudos to casting director Ellie Collyer-Bristow for bringing them together. Both are individually great (with fantastic, drawling accents) and together they really sparkle. The chemistry is perfect and they dominate the slightly odd space that is The Vaults-as-straight-theatre. I loved watching them and - again - it's hard to imagine this piece being acted much better than they do here.

To sum up then, whilst Ages of the Moon isn't really a play for me you'd be hard pressed to see a better version of it than this one. And if you're a Sam Shepard fan it's a must.

Ages of the Moon is at The Vaults until 24th November.

My ticket for this one was kindly provided by the production and would normally cost £25. The seating is unreserved, I sat on the front row (and got dripped on at regular intervals).

Theatre Review: Out Of Sorts

As someone who has to wade through the swamp-slash-binfire that is British politics for a job, and who has thus lived through months of party conferences, conference flu and Brexit weirdness to the exclusion of almost everything else (except running a fucking half marathon - 2:05:52, thanks for asking), I cannot tell you how nice it was to finally get back into a theatre this weekend. It was, like, a physical relief. Something approaching normal service can be resumed.

The theatre in question was Theatre503 - first visit, definitely not the last - to see Danusia Samal’s International Playwriting Award 2018 winner, Out Of Sorts. 

Out Of Sorts tells the story of Zara, part obedient Muslim daughter, part hard working, hard drinking millennial, comfortable nor happy in either role. It is spectacularly easy to see why this play won the IPA. It’s a gorgeous thing, big hearted and heart breaking. Incredibly human and humane. Tough and comforting.

Samal does that thing that all great playwrights do with their stories: makes something that is at once completely unique to her characters and their experiences, and also completely universal. It doesn’t matter where you were born, how long you’ve lived in the UK or what colour your skin is you will be able to relate to Zara’s struggle to maintain the various personas she’s constructed to get through life. The feeling that your various selves and their related obligations and expectations are pulling you taught like an elastic band that can only stretch so far before it snaps is so perfectly portrayed here. The scene where Zara finally snaps is heart breaking and brilliant, one of the best written scenes I’ve seen all year. There’s also a really beautiful and truthful exploration of the idea of family - the one you get and the one you choose - and the power of that unit too. And, for the woke middle class white people in the audience (me), some uncomfortable home truths about white privilege laid bare amongst the avo and matcha. 

It’s stunningly good writing, in other words. Samal is surely a name to add to watch out for in the future. The not at all distant future, I rather suspect. 

Theatre503 is a great pub theatre space, definitely more of a traditional theatre set up than some pub theatres I’ve been to and the better for it, and Out Of Sorts makes great use of it. Director Tanuja Amarasuriya’s production is extremely sure footed. I loved the way designer Rebecca Wood’s set emphasises both the conflict and the closeness between Zara’s two selves by physically only using one set to portray both. The differences are subtly wrought - shelves full of Kilner jars and Pukka Tea on the ‘millennial’ side, loose onions and bulk buy oil on the other - but cleverly done. The quiet shifts of Ali Hunter’s lighting back this up further. It’s a really impressive production. I’d love to see what the same team would do with, say, The Bush main house or the NT’s Dorfman.

The cast of six are excellent too. Nalan Burgess is Zara, and plays her with immense sadness and complexity. For me, the pick of the bunch is Myriam Acharki as Layla, her steely strong but tender mother. The final scene where the two confront and comfort each other is gorgeous. I also really enjoyed Claudius Peters’ all too brief turn as Zara’s posh, woke, white flatmate’s black boyfriend, Anthony. His scene with Zara, on their shared but also entirely not shared experiences as non-white people in London, is one of the show’s most complex and compelling - and brilliantly acted. 

I really rated Out Of Sorts, as is presumably apparent by this point. It’s a brilliant play done brilliantly in a space that conveniently lives over a great pub. Perfect for a London autumn.

Out Of Sorts is at Theatre503 until November 2nd.

I sat in C3 for this one, though it’s largely irrelevant - Theatre503 is so small that there’s no such thing as a good or bad seat. My ticket was kindly provided by the production.