Visual and Script and Harrower and Ridley

Although a working definition of visual theatre gets me through manipulate (roughly, it's performance that uses the image as the primary carrier of information, with slight overlaps into dance and physical theatre), there is other theatre that eschews the visual. David Harrower's Fringe success Ciara is a sprightly monologue that unfolds the interior life of a woman on the edge of Glasgow's violent underworld, performed to perfection by Blythe Duff. Unsurprisingly, it is driven by Harrower's attention to detail and facility with language that straddles the colloquial and the theatrical, but as a live performance, there is little communication through the visual dimension.

That isn't to say that Duff's performance is pedestrian, but her movements and postures evoke little beyond the script's storytelling magic. Duff's Ciara is a woman clinging to respectability, despite her family's gangster antics, but the force of the writing needs little support. Consequently, its performance in a theatre - at least in the production which wowed the Citizens - could be easily transferred into radio. The telling moments come from Harrower's unpicking of Ciara's artistic tastes and social ambitions, as well as Duff's measured, unrepentant tone.

Against this, Philip Ridley's Dark Vanilla Jungle has several key moments that rely on the movement to expose a subtext to his story of childish sexual obsession and deceit. Gemma Whelan (despite being a mature woman and familiar in all action mode in Game of Thrones) pulls off a depiction of  neurotic teenager Andrea and, at a crucial moment, falls into a twitching fit that explains why her narrative has become increasingly erratic. Whelan throws herself to the floor, exposed and vulnerable, and in the kicking of her legs expresses the severe mental trauma that has led her character from abused to abuser.

Ridley - one of that generation of playwrights who burst through in the 1990s and became known as the neo-brutalists - is concerned with the hidden depths of the psyche, whence monsters spring forth, and how violence has its roots in the previous experience of the perpetrator. Andrea is as much a victim as a criminal and her abuse of a vegetative soldier is clearly linked to her own abuse at the hands of a paedophile. This tension comes out in the jerky, uncomfortable physicality of Whelan - and her fragmented speech.

Andrea and Ciara are both clearly concerned with their public appearance (they begin by stating that this is their version of events), and both present an image that puts them in the right. It is perhaps a measure of their respective ages that their physicality is so different: Ciara can quite clearly handle herself, while Andrea runs about wild and awkward.

Like Ciara, Dark Vanilla  is a monologue. It uses the visual sparingly (including it within manipulate would be pushing the definition of visual theatre), but as an effect counterpoint to the self-justifications that make up Andrea's explanations. Conversely, it is Ciara's lack of telling physicality that adds a layer to Duff's performance, since the self-control of the character is at the heart of her tragedy (she puts up with an unfaithful spouse and the legacy of her father's gangland empire and seedy deals).

Both Ridley and Harrower are exciting writers, and it is inevitable that their vision of theatre is based in the power of language - they are the proud and worthy successors of that particularly British tradition that sets the script as the template for theatre. But while Orla O’Loughlin's direction of Ciara could make an easy translation straight into audio, Dark Vanilla director David Mercatali recognises how even limited use of the body can add a nuance and power that evokes the darker forces at work beneath the presentation of self.

Slow Air On Tour

I loves me some David Harrower. I met him in the pub once. He was very charming, and it wasn't until six months later, when I saw a production of Blackbird, that I had been bought a drink by a man with the finest ear for the poetry of Scottish vernacular since... let's not say Burns, and Martin O'Connor (who is presenting Theology at the Arches) is good at it too, in a completely different manner.

I caught the first outing of A Slow Air, and here is another one which is well, worth catching.

Press Release Begins...


A SLOW AIRWritten and directed by David Harrower
Scottish tour 20 March – 24 May 2014
Celtic Festival, Wales 6 – 10 May 2014


Borderline Theatre, in association with the Palace Theatre, Kilmarnock, are delighted to present David Harrower’s A Slow Air. 

I like Borderline: they did DC Jackson's My Romantic History. It was funny and rude.
A Slow Air follows the funny, poignant and engrossing story of Morna and Athol – a brother and sister who haven't spoken to each other for nearly 15 years. Now Morna's son, Joshua, is turning 21and he's planning a party to which they’re both invited…

Their dual monologues create the platform for Morna and Athol to each tell their side of the story and unravel and explore the past that has seen them grow up together and then so bitterly fall apart.

Morna’s son Joshua brings them together for his birthday party in the Black Bitch, the pub in Linlithgow where his mum used to go to folk gigs – and where their past is about to be catapulted into the present.

Morna lives in Edinburgh and works as a cleaner, Athol lives in Houston, Renfrewshire and owns and runs a flooring business. Two different lives, two different parts of the country; one compelling story.



The A Slow Air tour is part of Borderline’s 40th Anniversary celebrations.

David Harrower : David Harrower is the acclaimed writer of Knives in Hens, Kill the Old Torture their Young, Presence, Dark Earth, Good With People, Ciara and the Critics Award for Theatre in Scotland and Olivier Award winning Blackbird. A Slow Air marked his directorial debut in 2011 and he subsequently re-directed all transfers to Edinburgh, New York and London.

BorderlineTheatre : Borderline was established in 1974 and have been touring theatre around Scotland ever since. Based in Ayr, their vision has always been to deliver entertainment with substance. A Slow Air will be Borderline’s first touring production since 2011 when they toured DC Jackson’s Fringe First Award winning My Romantic History. Borderline are one of the longest established touring companies in Scotland.

Borderline Theatre’s 40th Anniversary : Borderline are celebrating 40 years of delivering quality theatre to appreciative audiences. Through adversity and ever changing funding structures Borderline have continued to produce first class touring work and take drama to all parts of Scotland. Over the last four decades their audiences have been entertained by a who’s who of Scottish talent with Robbie Coltrane, Craig Ferguson, Billy Connelly, Elaine C Smith and Alan Cummings being just the start of a roll-call of Borderline casts. For most of it’s history the company was led by Eddie Jackson. Eddie retired in 2011 and Borderline has been readjusting over the past two years. Now based at the Gaiety Theatre in Ayr they have a new address as well as a new vision for the future.

Ciara Comes Back in Santa's Sack?

I am taking advantage of the extreme pain in my body to write up every controversial thought that passes
through my mind, accompanying the spasms of pain shooting up my left flank. Then, when I am called out for not supporting my arguments, or saying something obnoxious, I shall point to my wounds and claim that these are the scars of a man who did too much for theatre...

I've been pondering the Traverse's Autumn Season 2013. I am pleased that they are reviving 'David Harrower's multi-award-winning 2013 Festival hit play,Ciara, directed by Traverse Artistic Director Orla O’Loughlin... the jewel of this year's Traverse Festival crown. This captivating play, written by one of Scotland's finest writers for the truly exceptional Blythe Duff, captured the imaginations of audiences and won Scotsman Fringe First and Herald Angel Awards this August. It offers an insight into the exhilarating world of a gallery owner and daughter of one of Glasgow's notorious crime bosses (3-21 Dec).'

I'm pleased because I missed it - but did enough people not catch it during August to make another three week run viable? And is the story of a gangland boss' daughter a good way to catch the Edinburgh Christmas crowds? Sure, this fits with the Traverse's traditional attempt to avoid being obvious during the festive season - recognising that there are plenty of pantomimes, they have always gone for a proper play. But The Citizens, which also rejects the pantomime, offers a sop to the younger crowd (who miss the psychological depth being packed into scripts about traditional fairy tales, and enjoy the spectacle).

Harrower's writing is always worth a listen, and Duff covers that rare ground between being a TV celebrity and an exceptionally enthralling performer. It's also a new play, with a proven track record of popularity already. So it fits with the Traverse's commitment to New Writing - I am just not sure why it has come back so quickly. 

Welcome to Edinburgh, Fringe Fans

It may just be wilful patriotism, yet I am tempted to make my annual Edinburgh Fringe Preview an all Scottish spectacular. I’m not ignoring international performance – if it says Belgian or Czech on the label, I’m first in the queue– but I’d like to remind the hoards of London-based performers and agents and PRs and promoters that wee Caledonia can do quite nicely without their annual invasion.

My inbox currently receives around twenty emails an hour, each containing dreams of success, arrogant claims about the future of theatre, promises of sex, alongside appeals for reviews. I haven’t been this popular since I logged into an adult chat site as “22-36-22DirtyBabe”.  I do love the Fringe – it is a rare chance to indulge my joy in unpopular, awkward theatre, and catch up with the latest excuses for on-stage nudity. However, there is something unsettling in the sheer amount of performance, most of which will end up seen by two men, a student critic and a bored technician. The only way to be successful in the Fringe is either to be an established comedian or own real estate.

That said, my nationalist inclinations allow me to concentrate on shows that I feel confident to support. The Tron showcased A Slow Air as part of Mayfesto, Cryptic’s Orlando got its premiere at Glasgay!, in the same week as Fish and Game heralded a new use for the iPad through Alma Mater. Even these three demonstrate how Scottish performance has diversified beyond the simple script as template: A Slow Air is a reassuringly intimate two-hander by Glasgow’s master of linguistic detail, David Harrower; Orlando follows Cryptic’s distinctive passion for music and technological experiment; Alma Mater is am ambiguous reflection on education and childhood that uses film to evoke ghostly presence. All of these shows share a fascination with the possibilities of self-conscious performance, tapping away at the inherent unreality of theatre.

Harrower deliberately disconnects his two actors, letting them describe their mutual love and hate directly to the audience. Although the two characters, a brother and sister, seem to be dwelling on a family argument, Harrower subtly weaves larger themes – the split between generations, the rivalry between East and West coasts, the mixed blessings of personal history, the redemption power of absurd conflicts – into their homely, defensive chatter. Without making huge statements, and capturing the nuance of sibling compassion, Harrower champions the traditional script as the blue-print for a moving, intimate performance.

Orlando is a far more expansive work, even if it is a solo for one actor. Originally staged with live music, it mixes Virginia Woolf’s magic realist story of an immortal transsexual, cutting edge computer graphics and an electronica soundtrack to remystify the text, revealing fragments of passion, beauty and insight within the century spanning narrative. It is exceptionally hi-tech for the Fringe, intensely serious and blinding in its neon beauty: Cryptic are as fascinated by the image as the word as the music, and while Orlando is familiar from the superb Sally Potter film, this version’s transformative, hallucinatory rhythms cuts to a mystical heart.

Fish and Game are “Scotland’s Live Art supergroup”: Alma Mater, ironically, is a video performance. Originally a site-specific “guide” to Glasgow’s Scotland Street school museum, it has been displaced to Remarkable Arts’ Edinburgh church venue. Refusing to fall for either clichés about the greatest days of your life, or school as bullying hell, Alma Mater is beautifully balanced between celebration and critique and uses the iPad as a tool to layer reality with a supernatural resonance.


 Witty and moving, it is a reminder that experimental theatre can bypass theatrical artifice for an immediate, compassionate, emotional hit.