I think of the Tube as a poem by Edward Lear.
15 lines for 15 cats. 15 cats for 15 maps. 15 maps tracing the whole of underground London.
15 lines for 15 cats. 15 cats for 15 maps. 15 maps tracing the whole of underground London.
But mind the gaps.
And then of course there are the Overgrounds, particularly useful when Tube drivers strike. And the bus routes--26 of them. Buses, lines and cats. A cat's cradle of maps. Incidentally, dogs ride the transport regularly. Bakerloo. No, that is not true. The dog-owners are very careful. But it is intriguing to see little tails disappearing up the escalators.
Maps and lines meeting us, and each other, taking us home. Like flags of
different nations.
Victoria, Picadilly, Jubilee, each a little country of its own.
Victoria, Picadilly, Jubilee, each a little country of its own.
And then there is Waterloo, "the UK’s largest and busiest railway station, covering an area of nearly 100,000m2 and handling over 95 million passengers a year" ( http://www.laingorourke.com/engineering-the-future/digital-engineering/eej/history-advanced-at-london-waterloo.aspx#sthash.EavzFk0q.dpuf).
Beneath its overground and even its underground, there is a deeper level of Vaults which, at various historical periods, have 'done time' as an emergency mortuary, as air raid shelters, and more recently as performance-spaces for the avant-garde. They are now owned by a private consortium, The Vaults.org, ready to transform their cylindrical grunge into a swish cinema, night-club and bars, with a Festival launch early 2016 (http://www.the-vaults.org/#!about/c10fk).
Meanwhile, theatre group Les Enfants Terribles transform the labyrinth into Alice Underground. We are lead by the White Rabbit--or the Ace of Hearts, how to choose? –into various curtained areas tunnels, channels, and dorms for story-telling in the half-light of this underworld.
Beneath its overground and even its underground, there is a deeper level of Vaults which, at various historical periods, have 'done time' as an emergency mortuary, as air raid shelters, and more recently as performance-spaces for the avant-garde. They are now owned by a private consortium, The Vaults.org, ready to transform their cylindrical grunge into a swish cinema, night-club and bars, with a Festival launch early 2016 (http://www.the-vaults.org/#!about/c10fk).
Meanwhile, theatre group Les Enfants Terribles transform the labyrinth into Alice Underground. We are lead by the White Rabbit--or the Ace of Hearts, how to choose? –into various curtained areas tunnels, channels, and dorms for story-telling in the half-light of this underworld.
The scruffy walls are part of the story. A den of old books, baubles and mirrors suddenly begins to whisper, Alice appears and disappears in the glass of cupboard doors. This is a memory room of heavens we can't remember, piled high with too much to piece together.
Often, one group passes another in the passageway, or we see a card or rabbit appear and disappear in the middle distance. Sometimes, in one cave-like space, being inveigled to eat a stolen tart, we hear shrieks, whispers, or music from another. And then there is the clatter of trains overhead, emphasising the otherworldliness of this space, as if we are folded in the leaves of an old book, falling apart with it, becoming a leaf in the familiar story—that is, the story about society, families, and expectations, is it not?
Often, one group passes another in the passageway, or we see a card or rabbit appear and disappear in the middle distance. Sometimes, in one cave-like space, being inveigled to eat a stolen tart, we hear shrieks, whispers, or music from another. And then there is the clatter of trains overhead, emphasising the otherworldliness of this space, as if we are folded in the leaves of an old book, falling apart with it, becoming a leaf in the familiar story—that is, the story about society, families, and expectations, is it not?
Mark Sanderson as the White Rabbit, Grace Carter as the March Hare and
Hayden Wood as the Mad Hatter. Photo: Jane Hobson
The dinner party is a delight; the Longest Table Ever Seen (Mssrs Piano, Rogers and Shuttleworth take note : sometimes length is superior to height), seating at least 40, set with relics from past performances (err…is that a
squashed tart I see, amongst puddles of old tea??), with occasional squirts of
tea from within the table and along it. The genius of water. Its amber puddles give the scene a certain seedy gleam.
Aboveground, the Grater roasts people walking beneath, along its
concourse, amplifying the sun’s great rays and turning ground level into a
furnace. “Middle Earth” above -ground, while we sip tea below.
The Caterpillar is an articulated puppet, manned by two puppeteers, and it is fat and huge. The use of puppetry very nicely draws together the relationship between chaos and order,
reality and imaginings, truth and blame, and between human and animal,
which is perhaps a realisation made clearer in performance as opposed to reading a
book. For the Rabbit is huge, as is the caterpillar, and I've' already mentioned the scale of the dinner table. Only
the tarts, the interval bar and the chairs we sit on are to scale. Although essentially light in touch, there is nonetheless a dirtiness in this production that I appreciate, and I think Artaud--who objected to the primness he perceived in Carroll--would have approved.
c. Z Soboslay 2015.
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