Following on from my last post, I came across this great article on the Guardian Theatre Blog about documentary theatre and the ethical issues that it presents.
Check it out here.
Sunday, 24 April 2011
Monday, 18 April 2011
London Road - the moral dilema
As anyone who I have met or had any kind of social contact with since Saturday will know, I went to see London Road at the National Theatre. I haven't been able to stop myself telling everyone and anyone to go and see it, however, in my excitement about what the NT have achieved with London Road I have come across lots of debate about the morality of the piece.
The musical which is running in the Cottesloe until early June tells the story of the events surrounding the 2006 Ipswich murders from the viewpoint of the community living in London Road, the home of serial killer Steven Wright. This documentary piece was written by Alecky Blythe using verbatim accounts that she recorded at interviews she conducted with a number of residents of London Road over a number of years. These recordings have been edited together and set to music by composer Adam Cork to create a score that is based on rhythms of speech complete with ever stutter and stammer. The effect is quite incredible and captures the essence of the people - the play's characters - so uniquely. This is not your average musical.
The controversy that has arisen about the piece is rarely a dispute on it's artistic merit - hands down it deserves the four and five star reviews that it has been credited with. No, the controversy is about whether it is exploitative and disrespectful of the victims and their families. Is it wrong to derive "entertainment" from such a tragedy, and so soon after the event?
I have to say that I had no major issues with the subject matter or indeed the way it was handled. I think it all comes down to a point of view. Had the piece been about the girls who were murdered I believe the reaction would have been very different. But this piece is about another set of victims who were less mentioned in the media - the unsuspecting neighbours of the murderer. Those who thought they were living in a safe community who had their lives turned upside down and their privacy invaded by the media. I believe that they have a right to tell their side of the story too. And I think it is right that their side was told without censorship. It would have been untruthful to have glossed over what they truly felt towards the girls.
The whole debate reminds me of a similar dilema I grew interested in during my final year of my BA studies. The company that I was on placement with at the time were working with recovering addicts and professional actors to produce a new play for their main stage that centered around a local and historical (although in this case fictionalised) account of drug-dealing and addiction. I grew interested in the reason for the project and what the after-care would be like for the non-actors who were involved.
I think in both cases my verdict lies in the treatment of the situation and those involved. If those who are central to the story that is being told know what the deal is and do not voice objection then no exploitation occurs. If those whose personal experience is involved receive the correct support and after-care then in my opinion, there is no exploitation.
The problem with London Road lies in the objection from the families of the girls who were murdered. Should they have had the right to censor the residents' telling of the story? What makes the experience of the residents any less valid?
I believe Blythe's intention was merely to tell their side of the story. I do not believe that in doing so, she necessarily agrees with any or all of their actions or opinions. But of course with any telling of a story, you will have others who witnessed it differently or disagree with the stance that is taken. I don't think that there is any easy answer to the moral question. All I know is that I thought it was a captivating piece of theatre that made me think more deeply about what happened in Ipswich 5 years ago, and more widely, about the human condition...
And, despite the raging debate, I would still recommend it to everyone and anyone...
All pictures courtesy of National Theatre
The controversy that has arisen about the piece is rarely a dispute on it's artistic merit - hands down it deserves the four and five star reviews that it has been credited with. No, the controversy is about whether it is exploitative and disrespectful of the victims and their families. Is it wrong to derive "entertainment" from such a tragedy, and so soon after the event?
I have to say that I had no major issues with the subject matter or indeed the way it was handled. I think it all comes down to a point of view. Had the piece been about the girls who were murdered I believe the reaction would have been very different. But this piece is about another set of victims who were less mentioned in the media - the unsuspecting neighbours of the murderer. Those who thought they were living in a safe community who had their lives turned upside down and their privacy invaded by the media. I believe that they have a right to tell their side of the story too. And I think it is right that their side was told without censorship. It would have been untruthful to have glossed over what they truly felt towards the girls.
To say that I think their story has a right to be told does not mean that I categorically agree with their viewpoint on the events that unfolded, nor do I believe that that is the aim of this production. I believe that good theatre should provoke this kind of public debate, in my opinion that is what the arts are about. Theatre should be about opening people's eyes to a subject and making them question their viewpoint. It's about social empathy, putting ourselves in the shoes of others and working out how we would react or feel. Thus I would argue that we can not claim theatre is merely made as "entertainment".
London Road documents - in a highly artistic, and utterly touching fashion - the responses of the residents of London Road, to all that unfolded in their community as their worst nightmares were played out right amongst them. It presents (through song and speech) the facts of the events as lived and seen through the eyes of the residents themselves. It is utterly true in so far as the libretto itself is written by them - through their recorded interviews. That truth of course is not universal. It is the truth according to the individuals who Blythe conducted her interviews with.
The whole debate reminds me of a similar dilema I grew interested in during my final year of my BA studies. The company that I was on placement with at the time were working with recovering addicts and professional actors to produce a new play for their main stage that centered around a local and historical (although in this case fictionalised) account of drug-dealing and addiction. I grew interested in the reason for the project and what the after-care would be like for the non-actors who were involved.
I think in both cases my verdict lies in the treatment of the situation and those involved. If those who are central to the story that is being told know what the deal is and do not voice objection then no exploitation occurs. If those whose personal experience is involved receive the correct support and after-care then in my opinion, there is no exploitation.
The problem with London Road lies in the objection from the families of the girls who were murdered. Should they have had the right to censor the residents' telling of the story? What makes the experience of the residents any less valid?
I believe Blythe's intention was merely to tell their side of the story. I do not believe that in doing so, she necessarily agrees with any or all of their actions or opinions. But of course with any telling of a story, you will have others who witnessed it differently or disagree with the stance that is taken. I don't think that there is any easy answer to the moral question. All I know is that I thought it was a captivating piece of theatre that made me think more deeply about what happened in Ipswich 5 years ago, and more widely, about the human condition...
And, despite the raging debate, I would still recommend it to everyone and anyone...
All pictures courtesy of National Theatre
Wednesday, 13 April 2011
Censorship
I've been taking a playwriting class since January and I'm currently working on my first play. It's been an incredible learning curve already! When I started the class I had a very clear message that I wanted my play to state for the audience, my whole purpose was to tell them what I wanted them to hear but I have found that the more I write and the more the characters take on a life of their own, the less I am able to put words into their mouths that speak the message I initially intended. That is not to say that I feel I have lost the whole theme that I began with, if anything I have probably gone deeper into that theme than had I stuck firmly to my intended message. It is an interesting dilema to face, on one hand I am over the moon that the characters are coming to life but on the other I am having to battle with myself to let go of ideals that I carried into the project to begin with.
The whole thing has left me pondering the issue of censorship. If I want to tell a real story through characters who are believable, if I want to stick to their truth and only put words in their mouth that they would say, how much of what I want to say is compromised? And further still, can I stop them saying things that I personally would rather they didn't say?
Take for example, profane language - if the character is in a pressure situation where they would, being true to themselves, rhyme off a string of expletives, must I allow them to do that? Does the scene and the character lose an element of truth if I censor what they say? I feel that most likely the answer is yes, but that throws up further complications for me.
As a follower of Jesus, I want for all that I do and create to glorify Him. Can I create a play that doesn't compromise anything of what the characters would do or say while still glorifying God?
I think so.
The things of the world which used to be censored in the media seem to be censored less and less, in many ways there is no escaping them. Perhaps instead of attempting to brush over them and ignore them what we need to do is face them head on? We were not called to bury our heads in the sand. We were not given a spirit of timidity but one of courage and boldness. We're never going to create convicting theatre if we gloss over the way the world really is. And how much brighter does the light shine when we see it next to the darkness?
The whole thing has left me pondering the issue of censorship. If I want to tell a real story through characters who are believable, if I want to stick to their truth and only put words in their mouth that they would say, how much of what I want to say is compromised? And further still, can I stop them saying things that I personally would rather they didn't say?
Take for example, profane language - if the character is in a pressure situation where they would, being true to themselves, rhyme off a string of expletives, must I allow them to do that? Does the scene and the character lose an element of truth if I censor what they say? I feel that most likely the answer is yes, but that throws up further complications for me.
As a follower of Jesus, I want for all that I do and create to glorify Him. Can I create a play that doesn't compromise anything of what the characters would do or say while still glorifying God?
I think so.
The things of the world which used to be censored in the media seem to be censored less and less, in many ways there is no escaping them. Perhaps instead of attempting to brush over them and ignore them what we need to do is face them head on? We were not called to bury our heads in the sand. We were not given a spirit of timidity but one of courage and boldness. We're never going to create convicting theatre if we gloss over the way the world really is. And how much brighter does the light shine when we see it next to the darkness?
Saturday, 9 April 2011
Keeping Faith in Times of Eschatological Tension
I've been living with a promise from God for a little while now. I think it's been the first time in my personal journey of faith that I have consciously known that God has promised me something and I have had to bide my time until it has been made real in the world.
It's been bloomin' hard!
Over the past few months I have been going through the application process for a Masters course at East 15 Acting School. Since I moved here at the beginning of 2008, East 15 has been on my radar. It's main campus is in the town that I used to work in and over the past 3 years I have met and worked with a number of different people who are students or graduates of several different courses at the school. Since the very beginning of my time down here, it has been on my heart. There were several opportunities that cropped up along the way, through my old job, to work with the school, but none came to fruition, and now it has all become abundantly clear why.
It was around January time that God planted the little seed in my heart that suggested I will study there and, through the many beautiful intricacies of his planning, His little seed has grown over the past few months, until now, today, it has burst into blossom. The beginning of this journey was a stepping out in obedience to what I felt God was suggesting, but for the last 4 weeks I have known that it was God's plan that I would study at East 15 from September this year.
During a time of worship at church about a month ago, God showed me a picture of me in a cocoon and that cocoon opening to release a butterfly which then flew around the campus of the school. I went to receive prayer ministry that evening, I guess in the hope that God would confirm what I had seen through someone else, instead, God said to me "you know My voice". Wow! He had absolutely told me that night that it was going to happen.
Of course, I still had to get through an interview that was scheduled for a few weeks hence.
The interview went well and I was told that I should expect a positive response. I was so excited but I was also really surprised and as I walked off campus I had another picture of the butterfly - God had promised it already, so why had I been so surprised?
In church a few days later a picture was given of a butterfly being released and I knew, again, that is was confirmation of what God was doing.
And finally, this morning, after so much waiting, I received an official letter offering me a place on the course. It has been perhaps the most torturous week, waiting for the the letter to arrive after my interview, but why? Again, God had already promised it so why the stress and unrest waiting for man's confirmation of what God had already ordained?
The penny dropped in the last couple of days that it is all about eschatological tension. The tension between the now and the not yet of the Kingdom. The tension that results from knowing the truth and reality of God's promise and waiting for that truth and reality to be made real on earth as it is in heaven. I was holding on to God's truth in the situation, to the reality and promise that He had shown me, whilst also having to wait for that promise and reality to be worked out in the ways of the world.
From this end looking backwards, it is so easy to say "well God had told you, you should just have had more faith in what He had already said." But when you are in the midst of the tension, it is so easy to let the voice of the enemy worm its way in, "He didn't really say that, you're just making up what you want to hear", "they could still turn you down", "you've not received an official letter yet because they've changed their mind".
I think we learn to know God's voice a little more and a little more each day, and with each incredible fulfilled promise our faith increases. Next time I find myself in the midst of the now and the not yet, I must try to remember the incredible journey I have just been on, to remember that God told me and He fulfilled what he had shown me. But of course, this particular journey isn't over yet, in fact, it has only really just begun...
It's been bloomin' hard!
Over the past few months I have been going through the application process for a Masters course at East 15 Acting School. Since I moved here at the beginning of 2008, East 15 has been on my radar. It's main campus is in the town that I used to work in and over the past 3 years I have met and worked with a number of different people who are students or graduates of several different courses at the school. Since the very beginning of my time down here, it has been on my heart. There were several opportunities that cropped up along the way, through my old job, to work with the school, but none came to fruition, and now it has all become abundantly clear why.
It was around January time that God planted the little seed in my heart that suggested I will study there and, through the many beautiful intricacies of his planning, His little seed has grown over the past few months, until now, today, it has burst into blossom. The beginning of this journey was a stepping out in obedience to what I felt God was suggesting, but for the last 4 weeks I have known that it was God's plan that I would study at East 15 from September this year.
During a time of worship at church about a month ago, God showed me a picture of me in a cocoon and that cocoon opening to release a butterfly which then flew around the campus of the school. I went to receive prayer ministry that evening, I guess in the hope that God would confirm what I had seen through someone else, instead, God said to me "you know My voice". Wow! He had absolutely told me that night that it was going to happen.
Of course, I still had to get through an interview that was scheduled for a few weeks hence.
The interview went well and I was told that I should expect a positive response. I was so excited but I was also really surprised and as I walked off campus I had another picture of the butterfly - God had promised it already, so why had I been so surprised?
In church a few days later a picture was given of a butterfly being released and I knew, again, that is was confirmation of what God was doing.
And finally, this morning, after so much waiting, I received an official letter offering me a place on the course. It has been perhaps the most torturous week, waiting for the the letter to arrive after my interview, but why? Again, God had already promised it so why the stress and unrest waiting for man's confirmation of what God had already ordained?
The penny dropped in the last couple of days that it is all about eschatological tension. The tension between the now and the not yet of the Kingdom. The tension that results from knowing the truth and reality of God's promise and waiting for that truth and reality to be made real on earth as it is in heaven. I was holding on to God's truth in the situation, to the reality and promise that He had shown me, whilst also having to wait for that promise and reality to be worked out in the ways of the world.
From this end looking backwards, it is so easy to say "well God had told you, you should just have had more faith in what He had already said." But when you are in the midst of the tension, it is so easy to let the voice of the enemy worm its way in, "He didn't really say that, you're just making up what you want to hear", "they could still turn you down", "you've not received an official letter yet because they've changed their mind".
I think we learn to know God's voice a little more and a little more each day, and with each incredible fulfilled promise our faith increases. Next time I find myself in the midst of the now and the not yet, I must try to remember the incredible journey I have just been on, to remember that God told me and He fulfilled what he had shown me. But of course, this particular journey isn't over yet, in fact, it has only really just begun...
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Wish You Were Here
It's the landmark days that are the hardest; birthdays, anniversaries, weddings. Landmark moments are hard too, getting a new job, a project going really well or not, even just a new haircut; those are the times that everything within me cries out to pick up the phone, to tell her the news. But I can't.
This day is maybe the hardest of them all. Mothers' Day. A day when "mothers" are rubbed in your face, a day when you can't go anywhere without happy families all around you. A day when you can't forget you don't have a mother to celebrate anymore.
It's not that I'm against other people celebrating the amazing women in their lives, in fact quite the contrary, it makes me angry to see people NOT lavishing their love on their mums and grannies. But, I'm never quite sure what to do with myself on this day.
This year, I've decided to channel my mass of emotions into something more positive (well at least to try to) so here is an "ode" to my beautiful mum.
This day is maybe the hardest of them all. Mothers' Day. A day when "mothers" are rubbed in your face, a day when you can't go anywhere without happy families all around you. A day when you can't forget you don't have a mother to celebrate anymore.
It's not that I'm against other people celebrating the amazing women in their lives, in fact quite the contrary, it makes me angry to see people NOT lavishing their love on their mums and grannies. But, I'm never quite sure what to do with myself on this day.
This year, I've decided to channel my mass of emotions into something more positive (well at least to try to) so here is an "ode" to my beautiful mum.
Wish You Were Here
I'm writing you a postcard,
reporting on my travels,
I'm calling with the latest news -
my triumphs and my trials.
The message that I'm leaving
is perpetually the same:
wish you were here to see this,
wish I could hear you speak my name.
I miss finding you in the kitchen
surrounded by Michael Ball -
his voice singing on the radio,
his face smiling on the wall.
I miss stealing a special cuddle,
the ones only you could give.
I wish you hadn't had to leave,
I wish you still could live.
I wish that you could see me now
me and this gang of mine
I know that you would love them
and you'd see I'm doing fine.
I wish that we could get excited
about all the things that lie ahead.
I miss coming home to tell my stories
As I couried in beside you in your bed.
I long to hear your opinion,
to have you set me straight,
to help me see the pitfalls
before I've jumped and it's too late.
I wish that you could criticise
and put my feet on the right path,
I even long to see that face
You always made when you heard me laugh.
But you're gone and that time is over,
those things we'll never do again -
no more cuddles or silly giggles,
there's no going back to how it was then.
I hold on tight to those memories
and hope to never let them go.
With every year I'll miss you
and hope that you would know
That I'm writing you a postcard,
reporting on my travels,
I'm calling with the latest news -
my triumphs and my trials.
The message that I'm leaving
is perpetually the same:
wish you were here to see this,
wish I could hear you speak my name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)