Story of a Rabbit

Story of a Rabbit

Created & Performed by Hugh Hughes Hoipolloi Barbican Pit
June 2008

Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for the British Theatre Guide

There are things that I know for certain. I know that I am female, I know that I live in London, I know that last night I saw Story of a Rabbit. These are all indisputable facts.
Through performance art Hugh Hughes aims to examine knowledge verses experience. Although having said this, in keeping with the show's ethos; this is not fact, it is merely assumption on my behalf based on my personal experience of this show.
Story of a Rabbit examines death. However in doing so, it almost becomes a show that is in fact more about life. Hughes directly addresses the audience, as he flits between two stories; the 1995 death of a neighbour's rabbit whilst in his care and the death of his Father in 2001.
Biographical in nature this is a very personal show. Not only because of the content but also through the very essence of Hughes himself. Throughout there is direct and often improvised interaction with the audience; asking late comers the reasons for their delay, requesting that we share certain experiences and even offering two lucky people a cup of tea.
I'm usually not a fan of audience participation as it feels contrived and an unnecessary device to make one feel part of the action. However Hughes manner is effortless and his childlike eagerness to communicate with his audience is very endearing.
Throughout Hughes is at pains to explain each device in his "multi media" performance; nothing can be taken for granted. If an image appears on the back wall, he will explain why it is there and how it will be created. The constant soundtrack provided throughout by his good friend Aled Williams is also explained; why he is involved in the piece and how he is creating the effects. Of course this is interesting as despite these efforts to ensure we understand the reasoning behind his work, ultimately he has no control over how each individual audience member will perceive the piece.
As Hughes deconstructs life and the theatrics of theatre, outlining the interchangeable nature of the two he manages to avoid over sentimentality. What could have become a self indulgent, cathartic process for Hughes is instead reflective and actually pretty funny. Not only because of his comedic delivery but just as you feel yourself sinking into something slightly morose he snaps you out of it by suddenly drawing your attention to the angle at which the ladder was from which his Father fell when having a heart attack.
Running at eighty minutes, Story of a Rabbit could do with shaving twenty minutes of its time. The connection with Hughes starts to fade towards the end which is not ideal for a piece that actively seeks to engage its audience. However it must be applauded for challenging conventions of theatre. It is easy to get bogged down in the theoretical nature of this piece and question the reasoning behind each decision, however it is not necessary to leave with complete understanding. Some of the most effective pieces of cinema, to take David Lynch films as an example leave you with more questions than answers; just as with life.
As one famous man once said "Imagination is more important than knowledge" (Albert Einstein)

Ida Barr: So This Is Christmas

Ida Barr: So This Is Christmas
Written, Produced and Performed by Christopher Green
Director: Cal McCrystal
Barbican – Pit
Running Dates: 10th – 23rd December 08
Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for the British Theatre Guide
11th December, 2008


Man dressed as a woman – check
Audience participation – check
Innuendos a plenty – check.

All the necessary ingredients for your typical Christmas show, except Ida Barr: So this is Christmas is anything but your typical Christmas show.

Christopher Green is back at the Barbican again with another wonderfully surreal and completely unique Christmas show. For Christmas 08 he comes under the guise of Ida Barr, an established music hall performer. After working in the industry for over 50 years she has now embraced youth culture and imaginatively worked rap and urban beats into her repertoire – innit!

Highly influenced by her recent discovery of urban culture Ida Barr’s dialogue is a strange mix of affected RP and street lingo, as she “arks” the audience questions, and pretty much gets her freak on.

With DJ Godslove Mensah to her right, Ida Barr entertains the crowd with various songs including a little ditty about a shopping trip to Dalston set to the classic tunes of Missy Elliot and Eminem. If at all possible So This Is Christmas is a camper version of the Graham Norton Show. Like a chat show, she sits by her fireplace with a plasma screen inside it telling us what’s in store for the night. A mix of stand-up, songs, guests and of course audience participation all come together in a weird and wonderful way to create this Christmas extravaganza.

On paper it sounds like a hideous disaster – music hall drag queen, bringin’ down the house with topical rap, accompanied by a magician and a singing impersonator; however it works. Yes it could do with tightening up a little and some segments go on slightly too long but overall this Christmas show (which certainly is not for all the family) manages to entice Christmas joy from even your most cynical Londoner.

Forget your pantomimes and their fairytale stories of magical kingdoms, this year it’s all about keepin’ it real and gettin’ down with your bad self for a “wiki wicked” Christmas at the Barbican.

A Disappearing Number

A Disappearing Number

Directed & Conceived by Simon McBurney

Devised by Complicite

The Barbican

10th October – 1st November, 2008

Reviewed by Rachel Sheridan for The British Theatre Guide

15th October, 2008

The National is doing it with War Horse and now it’s the Barbican’s turn as Complicite return with A Disappearing Number. Back in 2007 it came away with a number of accolades including the Olivier for Best New Play and had people queuing round the block for return tickets.

Who would have thought a play about maths would have got London’s theatre going public so excited. It’s difficult to sum up (excuse the pun) exactly what A Disappearing Number is about as it seems no explanation will do it justice. It is so much more than a play about numbers and yet numbers are everything in this play.

Exquisitely devised, A Disappearing Number takes you on a journey I would not have thought was possible from the comfort of a theatre seat. The true story of the relationship between the brilliant Indian mathematician, Ramanujan (Divya Kasturi) and Cambridge Professor, G.H Hardy (David Annen) and the work they did together back in 1913 is intertwined with the life of the passionate and enthusiastic Maths lecturer, Ruth Minnen, played by the utterly compelling and totally adorable (Saskia Reeves) and her partner Al Cooper (Firdous Bamji). Supported by a tremendous ensemble their stories unfold in front of you.

Maths is often perceived as cold and isolating, disconnected from real life in anyway and yet it is the one element that unites these characters. School is often to blame for many people’s phobia of numbers and maths and as A Disappearing Number begins with formulas and equations that go on and on, one doubt's that they are going to be changing their opinions on numbers anytime soon.

However as numbers swirl across the stage, stories are told backwards, forwards and from the middle all colliding and collaborating simultaneously, the relevance of numbers and maths in our lives starts to become clearer. This is not a piece designed to convince you that maths is wonderful, it a piece designed to tell a story whilst at the same time presenting the value of maths and how life is reflected in numbers and numbers are reflected in life.

Simon McBurney’s direction is effortless and the fluidity of Complicite’s work is truly remarkable. I would have never thought it possible to tell so many tales in so many diverse and mesmerising ways. There is a real filmic quality to the piece which is not created from the screen projections but from the skill in with Complicite navigate around these stories; a feat which is usually accomplished by a highly skilled editor.

Michael Levine’s design is exceptional and as enthralling as the performance. As with numbers, there seems to be infinite possibilities to what the set can do as you’re transported from a lecture hall to the bustling streets of Bombay to an aeroplane. The cast nimbly move amongst these interwoven stories reflecting the beautiful patterns that numbers create on the screens behind them.

One person’s interpretation of A Disappearing Number will be quite different to the next. You may take nothing from it or you make take everything, the readings are infinite and in keeping with this theme I could probably talk about this piece forever, constantly discovering something new.