Reviews for The Dreadful Hours
Ed Barrett / Remotegoat / 12-02-10 I first reviewed an embryonic version of The Dreadful Hours in 2008, when Tmesis Theatre were still called Momentum, and was impressed enough to realise that my previous dislike of physical theatre was due to the fact that I simply hadn't seen any of this quality. I would have been happy enough to see the same show again. Traditional wisdom suggests comparisons are odious, but knowledge that this was to be an expanded production inevitably begged the question: would it be better or worse than the original?
The intervening years have certainly sapped none of the energy of Yorgos Karamelegos and Elinor Randle. As lovers Poliakos and Charlotte, they create the best dance scene this side of John Travolta and Uma Thurman's in Pulp Fiction - just one of many magical moments depicting a long-term relationship sliding into disillusion. Describing this stunning stylised performance is impossible; suffice to say, Tmesis bring to life every bit of the all too recognizable comedic horror of an infinitely repeated anniversary meal with a rare grace and humour.
Whilst recognizably the same piece, various aspects have been enhanced. Xavier Marzan's direction remains exemplary. The addition of mirrors to Kevin Pollard's still minimal set is perfectly judged to add an extra dimension to Marc Williams' excellent lighting. Chris Fittock's script remains spare enough to meld perfectly with the Tmesis style, while adding further layers to the story-telling. Xenia Bayer's soundscape is at times disturbing, at others beautiful, but virtually always of the very highest standard: the segment where even the tiniest noise is amplified, warped and wrapped is the equal of any sound design I have witnessed.
There were one or two slight wobbles: the opening tableau of the couple preparing to go out seemed clumsy and obvious compared to the eloquence and grace of the rest of the piece, whilst one or two of the early sound cues lacked subtlety, largely because they were too loud (though this latter perception may be an artifact of my advancing years). Also of regret is the loss of one of the greatest comic moments of the original piece - a waiter intervening while the couple prevaricate over the division of dessert. I imagine technical advances rather than the expense of a fleeting appearance of anot her cast-member necessitate this; but it would be worth the thought required to enable its reintroduction.
Overall, though, there are many more steps forward than back. If you hear about this show and think 'it's not for me', you're wrong; and if it seems much longer than its billed hour or so, rest assured this is because of the depth of the story that they tell. I can think of no better conclusion than that of my previous review: "With work of this quality, which so far surpasses most other physical theatre to virtually deserve a category all of its own, I look forward to seeing more" from Tmesis Theatre.
It’s the oldest story we know – or the most obvious; all together now: boy meets girl, boy loses girl… but what happens once boy gets girl?
The clue is in the title, perhaps too obviously, but fortunately it is not a self-fulfilling prophecy since Chris Fittock and Tmesis Theatre has come up with an inventive exploration of one couple’s relationship, craftily aided and abetted by director Javier Marzan from theatre company Peepolykus.
And talk about ups and downs. Given that the stage is set only with a table, set for dinner, it is quite amazing what can be done with that single piece of furniture, particularly since throughout, whatever they are doing or wherever they are, it is, quite clearly, a dinner table. So other than the two chairs and a kind of large scale mosaic of mirrors on the backdrop, it is all down to Elinor Randle and Yorgos Karamalegos, and they fare brilliantly. And make a meal of it, whether dancing, shouting, eating, making love or fighting. Everything is carried out with skill and passion, interspersed with silent pauses to do Harold Pinter proud. Right from the start, you’re thrown into the deep end as the scene switches rapidly back and forth between the two of them getting ready to go out.
One could be picky; it is very noisy at times, and almost as if human failings have been evenly doled out: she nags; he is stubborn; she drinks; he is obsessive. You also wonder which came first, his character or the fact that he is not English, since that may have a bearing on the dialogue; at one point, his speech is constantly corrected yet clichés must be one of the first things you get the hang of, through sheer repetition. However, the play is well structured, flashbacks being cleverly interposed with the depiction of an anniversary meal, and the humour, particularly the timing and control in the clowning and the acrobatics, is marvellous.
They say good things come in small parcels and this hour long production is lovingly presented; the audience lapped it up. So does it all end in tears or happily ever after?
Only one way to find out.
It's good to experiment
Disgruntled couples! Why, their resentment towards one another has long been the fodder of comedy, which is just one of the rich seams tapped in this new work from Hope Street-based Tmesis.
The company, comprising only of Yorgos Karamalegos and Elinor Randle, has its roots in physical theatre but has expanded its repertoire for this striking hour long play which can be seen at the Everyman until tomorrow.
It's an absorbing production, in which the Tmesis players become Poliakos and Charlotte, a couple unenthusiastically going through the motions of an anniversary dinner, beautifully balanced against scenes of the first flushes of their romance.
Geek alert - I was initially intrigued about this show as it shares its name with an old album by Bradford goth metallers My Dying Bride. No idea if this is deliberate or coincidental (the latter, I'd assume), but I can recommend this show here because there is plenty of laughs along the way - probably, really, almost at the expense of the viewer, who would have had to have never interacted with another human being not to see a bit of themselves in there.
The work is painfully well-observed by writer Chris Fitton, performed by a charming cast and fleshed out by Javier Marzan of comic theatre company Peepolykus (last seen in the city last autumn with Spyski at the Playhouse). A fantasy sequence near the end breaks that intense and incredibly realistic flow somewhat, which is a shame as until that point it beautifully and powerfully tells a very human tale.
Greek Pol's mix ups with English grammar, so cute to her at the start, eventually have Charlotte barking tired corrections at him as the teacher in her takes over. Her excitement at trying new wines on an early holiday has become a loud, irritating slup as she constantly overindulges to mask her unhapiness. We see Pol's big dream of opening a branch of his company in Paris eventually dashed, as he is forced to concede to his boss that "Milton Keynes would be more realistic". It's funny, but it almost hurts to laugh. A more touching exploration of love you might be hard pressed to find. Excuse me, I've got something in my eye.
IT’S a sad truth that love affairs once started are doomed one day to die, unless it is that illusive final one that lasts forever.
The relationship depicted in The Dreadful Hours is not one of those.
Based around an anniversary meal shared by a couple who have forgotten why they are together, scenes of their broken romance are interspersed with those of their initial love.
Chris Fittock’s script is witty and well-observed, drawing on those familiar moments in relationships that you’re secretly ashamed of – picking up on your partner’s faults, becoming irritated by how loud they chew or how aggressively they cut their food.
His script is remarkably restrained – allowing the silences to express more than the words.
Performers Elinor Randle and Yorgos Karamalegos, of Liverpool-based Tmesis, brought their expertise in physical theatre to the show – most obvious in a series of abstract scenes symbolic of the couple’s decision to take the leap into a new relationship.
The set is minimal – a single white table and two chairs and a row of mirrors behind.
Simple changes of light track which stage of the affair is being related – a warm yellow for the first flushes of love, stark white for the unhappy end – while an energetic soundtrack contrasts with the diners’ near-silence.
Brave programming for the Everyman and it paid off, giving a platform for a show that, while unlikely to be to everyone’s taste, is an exciting and thought-provoking piece of theatre.
"Strong, innovative, and combining comedy and tragedy in a most creative fashion. Definitely worth the ticket price and will have your mind ticking as you sit down for dinner the following day"
