Reading Chronicle March 30^th 2006:

'Brave' is a word which gets bandied about a little too easily in the context of the performing arts.

Yes, it takes a certain amount of courage to make a spectacle of yourself in front of an audience, particularly if the subject matter is controversial. But, let's face it, it's not usually a matter of life or death.

But brave is the right word to describe Progress Theatre's staging of Sarah Kane's Blasted - not only because the play's content is so shocking, but also because of the unflinching manner in which the actors went about their work.

Chris Bertrand, Lisamarie Court and Luke Robinson delivered note-perfect performances as, respectively, a dissolute tabloid journalist, his naive ex-girlfriend and a brutalised soldier, all involved in a hellish sequence of events in a Leeds hotel room.

I should declare an interest here, as I am a member of Progress Theatre.

However, I had no involvement in this production and I watched it on Saturday as a paying punter.

I didn't go with the intention of reviewing the play, and I'm not writing this because I have anything to gain by praising my Progress colleagues. But this was an extraordinary piece of theatre, brilliant and appalling at the same time.

Brilliant in the sense that the acting was flawless and the staging and special effects ingenious and impressive. Appalling because the scenes of violence and depravity went way beyond most people's worst nightmares.

Blasted's author, Sarah Kane, was clearly not like "most people". The play opens a window into the mind of the troubled writer, who committed suicide in 1999.

The acts of dehumanisation portrayed - including horribly realistic depictions of sexual abuse - would give many a Daily Mail reader a fit of the vapours.

But there was nothing gratuitous about the violence and it all seemed very relevant and close to home in the light of ongoing events in Iraq.

I'm not easily shocked or offended but, after 90 minutes of watching horror heaped upon horror, I was relieved when the play came to an end.

Afterwards, members of the audience were invited to take part in a discussion about Blasted and its themes with the director and cast - a very good idea as it helped everyone get some perspective after the emotional onslaught we had experienced.

This was a remarkable production, and director Rik Eke and everyone involved can feel justifiably proud of their work. As Chris Bertrand told the audience after the show: "We don't do amateur theatre here, we do professional theatre. We just don't get paid."

I wouldn't be in any hurry to see Blasted again - but I'm glad I was in the audience on Saturday night.

Jeremy Drakes

BBC Berkshire Website March 28^th 2006:

It was clearly a brave move, and one that probably underwent several committee meetings at the Progress before being passed, to stage this somewhat notorious play. But such a decision can only be applauded when it results in such fine results – a level of professionalism in staging, performance and set design that goes beyond the usually agreeable standards of this small theatre.

The reason it appears such a brave thing is because of the amount of justification ladled out with the play – both in the bumper-sized programme, in the flyers and in the form of an after-play discussion group. I feel much of this to be unnecessary and will admit I didn’t stay for the discussion, preferring to wrangle with the complexities of the play by myself – it seemed a little early to have things explained.

It’s a challenging play insofar as there is explicit sexual violence, male nudity, taboo language and graphic descriptions of war atrocities; but context is everything and within the framework of the play everything finds its place. To go into the plot and issues it raises in any detail is both beyond the scope of this review and would render the surprises of the piece impotent to anyone not lucky enough to have seen it yet, but there are a few things that can be said.

It begins with an abusive relationship between a man (Ian) and a woman (Cate) who share an unclear past, but who have been lovers somewhere in it. He is condescending, threatening and demeaning and she is unsure why she’s come, or why she’s staying. He’s confronting the spectre of his death – one lung’s been removed and the other is limping along – while she, much younger than him, simply infuriates him by her healthy presence, while still claiming to love her.

She ponders the parallels between the fits she suffers (I go away) and the blissful moment of orgasm – pointedly self-induced.

After they spend the night together the world begins to slide. Through a magical realist trick the hotel room which seemed to be, according to one line of dialogue, possibly in Leeds has slipped into a war zone, into a foreign country. Cate vanishes. In a dark Christmas Carol a visitor shows Ian the depths of powerlessness, in this cowardly new world. This meditation on power twists, sickeningly, around and the players, Progress veteran Chris Bertrand as Ian, and Luke Robinson as the soldier, are unrelenting in their brutality, in their grasp of what’s at issue here.

There is an absurdist majesty to the writing, especially in the last few scenes. Ian is left like Oedipus, blinded and desperate, though his crimes are much worse than the king’s ever were, and it seems he is without his Antigone until Cate returns to him, and at her own expense brings him food. For such a grim piece of theatre there is a strange moment of light in its close as the last line of the play offers a single sign of redemption: for the first time one character says ‘Thank you,’ to another.

Lisamarie Court playing Cate can’t be underestimated. Her performance was rock solid, from the girlish innocence and moments of tender happiness, right through the thumb-sucking sadness to the utterly hopeless determination to live, to not give in, that she closes with.

And the staging, as I said before, was the most complex, impressive, tricky and tricksy set that I’ve seen at the Progress and it worked perfectly. I raise a glass to the crew that worked on it and look forward to more challenging and exciting nights at this theatre to come.

A F Harrold

Evening Post April 6^th 2006:

It is the second time that this play, by Sarah Keane (sic), has been presented within Reading in the last year or so, and it certainly does seem to have its fans. It is very much a product of its era, the 90’s, and can be seen as the theatrical equivalent of the challenging Brit-artists of the era. But those artists, who once had the public open-mouthed in shock, now only seem to have the power to elicit gaping yawns.

The play begins with the arrival of a man and a woman at a hotel room. She is a naïve young epileptic in need of love. He is a hard-bitten and manipulative journalist, who has every intention of taking out his libidinous urges on her whether she likes it or not. He soon does so. The tables are turned after the arrival of a soldier, who in turn brutalises him.

The characters were well portrayed by the cast of three. Lisamarie Court was excellent as Cate, playing her with an innocence and naïveté that emphasised her subsequent ill-treatment. Chris Bertrand played the journalist Ian skilfully, his hard-bitten cynicism gave way to a more refined manner at points, and Luke Robinson, as the soldier, seemed suitably twisted. But their characterisations would have benefited from more depth, which would have helped to explain the shells of their former selves that they had become.

The set, designed by Peter Charles, was impressive, especially when a shell hit the hotel, when a section of wall disappeared and rubble fell from the ceiling. Also worthy of mention was the sound design by Geoff Dallimore, which was subtle and gave the impression of gunfire outside the theatre. Overall, this was a commendable staging of this difficult and controversial play by the director, Rik Eke.

William Selsey

Website Review April 21^st 2006:

‘If we can experience something through art, then we might be able to change our future, because experience engraves lessons on our hearts through suffering, whereas speculation leaves us untouched… It’s crucial to chronicle and commit to memory events never experienced - in order to avoid them happening, I’d rather risk overdose in the theatre than in life.’

Seeing isn’t believing, believing is seeing.

‘an open door leading them where they would never have gone of their own free will, simply a door communicating with reality.’

Blasted is a play of juxtapositions; it is a play about stories and scandals, love and cruelty, symbolism and naturalism, it is both physically and mentally painful and sensitive. However, above all Blasted is a play about truth. Going beyond the bourgeois theatre norms to create a piece of writing which is subversive in both form and content is never an easy challenge. Performing a play which is so emotionally draining and yet at the same time empowering is yet perhaps another reason why Blasted has been rarely performed in Britain since it’s debut at the Royal Court in January 1995. However, 2006 has found a company brave enough to take on the challenge.

On entering the quaint foyer of the Progress Theatre, it was evident that an uneasy atmosphere mixed with excitement and trepidation was present on the third evening performance of Kane’s debut. I would expect nothing less for a play, which was the subject of so much public and critical outcry from its initial showing.

Entering the auditorium I sat in hope that there wouldn’t be an interval in the piece, not only because this is what Kane had intended, but also because of the amount of productions who denied their audiences the experience of being ‘blasted’. (Many taking the easy option of changing the set whilst the audience had a nice chat about the weather with a pint of Guiness in one hand and roll up in the other.) The Progress Theatre production didn’t disappoint! And the set exploded in glorious fashion with pieces of rafters being blown to smithereens. The debris and dust fell everywhere (though perhaps flour would have been a better alternative to dust than Johnson’s baby powder - unless this was a hint towards the cannibalistic consumption to come on page 60?). All in all, the bravery of the set designers had paid off! I can honestly say hearing and seeing the audience jump, scream and chocking from the blast really did fulfil Kane’s visions of an experiential theatre.

Love coexistence with cruelty

As I have already mentioned, love and cruelty are two themes which have been used predominantly throughout Kane’s work. Kane believed that one couldn’t exist without the other, i.e. you couldn’t hate someone if you didn’t love them at one point, otherwise where are the origins of this extreme condition?

The primary relationship that explored these themes in the play appears through the characters of Cate and Ian. As w are informed by the text, these two characters have been seeing each other since Cate was a young girl. Ian loves her for her simplicity, laughs at her moral values, faith in mankind, hope, and religious beliefs, and yet, relies completely on her to silence his fear of dying alone. Cate doesn’t seem to have a clear idea of her relationship with Ian, she doesn’t seem too aware that he uses her, yet she understands him and since she longs to be independent perhaps it could be said that she latches onto Ian as her route to freedom.

Given the above, you would expect to see various levels of tensions between the two characters, not only to show the intensity of their relationship (not necessarily in positive light), but also to show the later juxtaposition between them, as Cate takes over Ian’s status and thus control the end section of the play. Unfortunately, I feel that this was the main point of weakness within this particular performance. Proxemically, the scenes worked well and there was an obvious distinction of status within the blocking, (Ian dominating a majority of the space, and often standing over Cate, overpowering her with his actions). However, there was a definite lack of tension, where for example, Cate seemed to be played more comically than perhaps Kane intended. I think there is a tendency to play Cate as being ‘dumb’, however, as Kane argued on many occasions, Cate is far from stupid. This is evident within the text, as we see Ian and the soldier buckle under the pressure, horrors a! nd reality that surrounds them and ironically embrace death as their only means of survival. In contrast, Cate’s natural instinct to survive takes over, as she takes to the streets of the war torn city around her and does everything she can to survive, including sleeping with soldiers for food. She evens steps further and puts her own life in danger by carrying a baby with her, whom she tries to save. I think Cate’s character offers a sense of hope, bravery, courage and sheer determination, which is much more than Ian or the Soldier can offer the world. Therefore, I would argue that tension should always be present between Ian and Cate. Ian is verbally the stronger character, he is better able to communicate his view of the world, and there is no doubt about that. Cate’s learning difficulties and speech impediment have obviously caused a hindrance to her articulation of what she deems the world to be. This causes a point of tension which Ian interprets as stupidity/weakness! , but as an audience we weren’t offered a glimpse of hope that!
there w
as more to Cate than hysterical fits and inarticulacy. In light of this, the ending of the play created some confusion as to where Cate’s sudden leap in, not only confidence, but power came from. To truly succeed in performing Blasted, the portrayal of relationships within the play are as vitally important as the stark imagery, this is my main criticism of the production.

Room service: Bacon, eggs, fried bread, hash browns, fried tomatoes and a side order of baby, please.

‘Current theatre is in decline because on the one hand it has lost any feeling for seriousness, and on the other for laughter. Because it has broken away from solemnity, from direct, harmful effectiveness - in a word, from Danger.’

Kane created many images within her play, which were designed, intentionally to challenge directors. Blasted contains, what some refer to as her most brutal work. In this production the decision was made to embrace these moments head on.

When first seeing the text, I will openly admit to have felt physically sick and wandered why a Soldier would gouge out someone’s eyes? Why a dead baby was eaten by a journalist? Why Cate was raped after an epileptic fit? It is not until you try to look beneath the surface of these actions that the symbolism becomes apparent. Why are Ian’s eyes gouged out? Because he doesn’t use them. He is a journalist who doesn’t report the truth, just the pathetic stories that sell: Always the scandal, never the news! This is perhaps one reason why the Soldier gouged out his eyes. Another explanation could be that the Soldier was re-enacting the torture which his girlfriend experienced, perhaps then it was revenge. However, it seems more likely that this was done as a way of visualising the terror she felt through Ian’s reaction; he needed to understand to overcome what happened to her.

This challenge, as I have said, was taken up and performed sensitively. (Using the term sensitively, I mean without excessive blood, and screaming, as has happened in European productions. Allowing this level of sensitivity allows audiences to evaluate these images for their symbolism rather than their literal appearance.) The Soldier the tempo rhythm of the Soldier was eerily calm, whilst Ian let out a silent scream of pain. The blocking was well thought out and offered some protection for the actors modesty. However, again there was a lack of variety in the Soldier’s levels of emotion, which remained the same throughout the scene. Despite military training, the Solider appears to reveal his hatred of the acts of brutalism that are carried out when they effect him on a more personal level. However, there is no indication that he cared for or loved Col as much as the text suggests, his tone was controlled throughout the scenes, which seems a little obscene in comparison to t! he acts of brutalism he talks about.

The most brutal image of the play was arguably when Ian ate the dead baby. However, after approaching the other images with a realistic approach, i.e. showing the eye gouging with blood and fake eyes, and the Soldier’s suicide, with blood on the wall, there seemed to be a sudden lack of convention when Ian mimed eating a plastic doll. A difficult act to represent on stage I agree, but perhaps using alternatives to create a more realistic image would have been more suitable than mixing ideas, it seemed a bit of a let down to the thought that had obviously gone into the authenticity of the other images within the play. Perhaps a suggestion of using dark poultry meat would have been a possible solution?

Reflections of the self and other

‘She [Sarah Kane] was able to penetrate very deeply inside everybody, and that’s not just a subjective thing it’s how you relate to our external reality. If you let the outside world into yourself that is a chaotic process and she was able to touch that process and people didn’t like it.’

There were several moments within the performance, that showed obvious commitment and paid homage to the text. The first moment I wish to discuss was the decision that was taken to add a simple, yet vital gesture to the piece, which acted as a stark reminder of the important that this play will always possess. In scene three, the Soldier places a mobile phone in a glass directed towards himself and Ian, to record himself torturing another (happy slapping). A heavy reminder for those who said Kane was deluded and sick for creating these images. It is only now that we see actual footage and photographic evidence of troops (US and UK) torturing and humiliating their prisoners in acts of the same brutality and to the magnitude of those seen in Blasted.

The final point I wish to discuss is the use of reflections within the play. There are moments, vaguely suggested by Kane, where Ian and the Soldier directly mirror one another and this was done with extreme precision and at a slowed pace to show the audience that Ian and the Soldier were part of one another; they were one and the same person. Cate also comes to reflect Ian, when she occupies his space, sat on the end of the bed she changes the status between them, as Ian cowers, defeated in a grave in the floor beneath her. These moments create multiple reflections with infinite possibilities; Ian reflects Cate, Cate reflects Ian, the Soldier reflects Ian, Ian reflects the Soldier, who all reflect the reality that surround us, thus they are not only a reflection of one another, the audience, and society, but they are a reflection of the current state of humanity in the world as a whole.

N Abraham