Tag Archives: Theatre503

No Place for a Woman

Theatre503, London (****)

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella), Ruth Gemmell (Annie), swopping places...

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella), Ruth Gemmell (Annie), swopping places…

Subtitled `a play with music and movement’, Elliott Rennie’s deep noted cello is the thrilling underscore to Cordelia O’Neill’s mesmerising but enigmatic Holocaust-fringed two hander.

As if to underline the beauty and the horror, Rennie’s cello weaves in and out of O’Neill’s narrative like a snake writhing in its death pangs.

In designer Camilla Clarke’s dark subterranean, split-focussed setting, two women confront each other. One sports a fur coat – an item not just of warmth but comfort and identity. The other, younger, woman in blue and white gingham frock recalls her family and counts. 1, 2, 3, relevé, she goes rehearsing her steps as if teaching small ones the first rudiments of ballet training.

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella)

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella)

Dance and ballet are at the core of O’Neill’s extraordinary duologue – an activity that for one woman will act as a way of surviving, for the other an agony of missed moments and opportunities squandered.

Like a rubric cube, No Place for a Woman presents a dizzying number of aspects. Early on, there are clues that indicate this may be yet another post-Holocaust narrative. But I have never seen one that presents its appalling randomness so poignantly or elusively as O’Neill attempts and succeeds in doing here.

For she, you suspect, is as fascinated by the accidental nature of Holocaust history (and indeed contemporary accounts of today’s genocidal terrors) as its direct horrors, highlighting it by presentation of two women, both possibly from quite similar bourgeois backgrounds, whose lives are entirely altered by circumstance and chance.

© Jack Sain, Ruth Gemmell (Annie)

© Jack Sain, Ruth Gemmell (Annie)

Isabella (luminous newcomer Emma Paetz) is Jewish. The other, Annie (the wonderful Ruth Gemmell, all twitchy neuroses) from a high ranking military family.

But nothing is straightforward; O’Neill’s dialogue switches back and forth between characters as if to emphasise their closeness and distance, the evanescence of identity, even at later points, both women assuming the role of Frederick, Annie’s Nazi officer husband – a man who like Amon Goeth shot his victims according to his personal whim.

Isabella, it turns out, has been saved by her capacity to dance, picked out by Frederick, taken into his household and kept in the basement where he visits her increasingly to the neglect of his distraught wife, Annie. Finally, they change places. A strange triangular love affair emerges.

What exactly is O’Neill stretching for here? Guilt assuaged by a form of love? Love destroyed by possessiveness?

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella, feeling the joy of dance)

© Jack Sain, Emma Paetz (Isabella, feeling the joy of dance)

You have to experience No Place for a Woman to make up your own mind, casting as it does, its own haunting, elusive spell.

What is not in doubt is director Kate Budgen’s brilliant direction, mining O’Neill’s script for its fluctuating atmospheres, role swops and illuminating moments that pierce like arrow shafts.

Together with Rennie, Paetz and Gemmell’s stunningly synchronised double-act turns No Place for a Woman into an unforgettable 75 minutes of theatre.

As the saying goes, required viewing.

Classy.

No Place for a Woman
A play with music and movement
by Cordelia O’Neill 

Cast:
Annie: Ruth Gemmell
Isabella: Emma Paetz
Music/Cellist: Elliott Rennie

Director: Kate Budgen
Designer: Camilla Clarke
Lighting: Sarah Readman
Sound: Ella Wahlström
Movement Director: Lucy Cullingford

Producer: Philip Scott-Wallace
Associate Producer: Audrey Thayer
Dramaturg: Lauretta Barrow

Presented by Small Things Theatre in association with Theatre503

World premiere of No Place for a Woman at Theatre 503, May 3, 2017.
Runs to May 27, 2017

This review published on this site, May 9, 2017

 

Screens

Theatre503, London (****)

© Pank Sethi, Fisun Burgess (Emine - mum), Nadia Hynes as Ayse, her daughter, Declan Perring, Al

© Pank Sethi, Fisun Burgess (Emine – mum), Nadia Hynes as Ayse, her daughter, Declan Perring, Al

Stephen Laughton (ex-Royal Court Writers Group, Headlong emerging writers programme) and author of acclaimed Run at the Vaults Festival has pedigree and doesn’t disappoint with his latest, Screens aptly turning up at Theatre503 just as who we are, and what we are bears down heavily on the national psyche. Continue reading

BU21

Theatre503, Battersea, London (****)

© David Monteith-Hodge, Clive (Clive Keene), Floss (Florence Roberts)

© David Monteith-Hodge, Clive (Clive Keene), Floss (Florence Roberts)

© David Monteith-Hodge, Ana (Roxana Lupu)

© David Monteith-Hodge, Ana (Roxana Lupu)

It could happen to anyone. You’re walking down a street and suddenly, whoosh, the world changes. A bomb goes off – or a plane falls from the sky. And nothing is ever the same again. Continue reading

Clickbait

Theatre503, London (****)

© Oliver King

© Oliver King

If anyone thinks growing up a young woman in Britain in the 21st century is a breeze, you’ve only to go a couple of times to Theatre503 to be bitterly disillusioned. In the last couple of years, Theatre503 have premiered a trio of plays (and counting) by young women playwrights who are taking a devastating microscope to the lives and pressures to which young women are now subject. Continue reading

2015 Round-up

2015 ROUND-UP

Another end-of-year; another round-up. And here’s mine, partial, prejudiced and highly subjective. For, after all, living in London as I do, and as ever for us London theatre critics/reviewers (what is the difference? Answers on a postcard please!), we’re spoilt for choice. Continue reading

Rotterdam

Theatre503, London (****)

© Piers Foley

© Piers Foley

Given its sensitive subject – transgender and lesbian relations – in earlier years, one might have expected Jon Brittain’s Rotterdam to have ended up as a `ghetto’ play. It’s a mark of how far we’ve come that instead Rotterdam has `commercial’ written all over it, in the best sense of the word: accessible to all, stylish, funny, true and brave. Continue reading