November 2, 2007
An overwhelming aspect of the evening is enjoying the enthusiasm with which this predominantly teenage audience receives two leading edge contemporary short plays; one each by Mark Ravenhill and Enda Walsh. It is a thrill to feel the theatre erupt in outrageously loud bursts of spontaneous reaction as issues the audience relates to are being played out on stage. Central to both ‘Chatroom’ and ‘Citizenship’ is a 15-year-old male character (namely Jim and Tom respectively), both struggling to find an appropriate listener to help them disclose a big truth about their life. Whilst ‘Chatroom’ has a closed energy (like cyberspace) and builds up to a claustrophobic pain as personal stories are told, ‘Citizenship’ is more open, bawdy and laugh out loud funny. Both conclude by nailing an equally poignant truth with ‘Chatroom’ drawing the odd uncontrollable tear. The hero of ‘Citizenship’ is Tom (played by the utterly brilliant Ashley Rolfe) who whilst embracing bisexuality finds himself trapped by the pigeon holes his lovers place him in, they want to ‘treat you like a baby’. Both Tom and Jim are courageously seeking deeper meaning to add to their existence in the face of great resistance. Hence it pays to cross the strong language barrier of effing and jeffing plus the exuberant teenage ‘in’ jokes to embrace the age-old questions these plays address. Whilst both pieces are commissioned by a programme called ‘Connections’ to develop work for young audiences, youth is a strong metaphor here that allows time old questions to be addressed in a different way.
Both sets, designed by Jonathan Fensom, use the omnipresent stacking plastic chairs, piled high like an inner city landscape in ‘Citizenship’, where they are arranged in tall rows about to tumble in the hall of a struggling school on the eve of inspection. In ‘Chatroom’ the chairs are huddled in small nests, the typical structure of discussion groups in miniature, and the flow of the characters through these clusters feels like a group hang in a shopping mall with the stable characters peeling off early. The narrative shows us the social danger faced when facial expressions are excluded from communication as it is in cyber space. Visitors to Britney Spears and Harry Potter chatrooms enter the stage like ghostly puppets to the sound of the Oompa-Loompa song. It’s an image that burns, because of the obvious vulnerability of the teenagers. It’s food for thought as to who Walsh believes is the truly vulnerable of the group. After watching the short film clip directed by Ben Taylor, burger bars are never the same clinically anonymous place again. It’s impossible not to be involved in ‘Chatroom’; the audience is undeniably a silent member, watching from the sidelines, experiencing unpredictable emotional response.
Legendary playwrights of our generation, Ravenhill and Walsh show their fine form in scripting dialogue that is at once pithy, sparkling, witty and cutting. Perhaps the average teenager would struggle to be as consistently hilarious and self-revealing as ‘Citizenship’ characters Amy (Michelle Tate) and the lovable rogue anti-hero stoner ‘Gay’ Gary (George Rainsford) who is ‘not gay’. The acting skills of the cast of 20-somethings wholly convince thanks to spot on direction by Anna Mackmin. The energy about the shows reveals the true quality of a National Theatre production. Both shows are sparked along by the flick of a strobe light in Mark Henderson’s suitably bleak lighting design. This is used with a blast of interference sound in ‘Chatroom’ like an Internet connection punctuating discussions and used to fast forward through the last flickers of childhood in ‘Citizenship’. Blink and you miss it.
Both sets, designed by Jonathan Fensom, use the omnipresent stacking plastic chairs, piled high like an inner city landscape in ‘Citizenship’, where they are arranged in tall rows about to tumble in the hall of a struggling school on the eve of inspection. In ‘Chatroom’ the chairs are huddled in small nests, the typical structure of discussion groups in miniature, and the flow of the characters through these clusters feels like a group hang in a shopping mall with the stable characters peeling off early. The narrative shows us the social danger faced when facial expressions are excluded from communication as it is in cyber space. Visitors to Britney Spears and Harry Potter chatrooms enter the stage like ghostly puppets to the sound of the Oompa-Loompa song. It’s an image that burns, because of the obvious vulnerability of the teenagers. It’s food for thought as to who Walsh believes is the truly vulnerable of the group. After watching the short film clip directed by Ben Taylor, burger bars are never the same clinically anonymous place again. It’s impossible not to be involved in ‘Chatroom’; the audience is undeniably a silent member, watching from the sidelines, experiencing unpredictable emotional response.
Legendary playwrights of our generation, Ravenhill and Walsh show their fine form in scripting dialogue that is at once pithy, sparkling, witty and cutting. Perhaps the average teenager would struggle to be as consistently hilarious and self-revealing as ‘Citizenship’ characters Amy (Michelle Tate) and the lovable rogue anti-hero stoner ‘Gay’ Gary (George Rainsford) who is ‘not gay’. The acting skills of the cast of 20-somethings wholly convince thanks to spot on direction by Anna Mackmin. The energy about the shows reveals the true quality of a National Theatre production. Both shows are sparked along by the flick of a strobe light in Mark Henderson’s suitably bleak lighting design. This is used with a blast of interference sound in ‘Chatroom’ like an Internet connection punctuating discussions and used to fast forward through the last flickers of childhood in ‘Citizenship’. Blink and you miss it.