Theatre and Culture from Scotland, starring The List's Theatre Editor, his performance persona and occasional guest stars. Experimental writings, cod-academic critiques and all his opinions, stolen or original.
Gary Gardiner and Murray Wason are both performers of integrity and charisma: Neighbourhood Forum, however, is designed to put them at the service of the audience, providing interludes and guidance to a series of discussions. Breaking the audience into groups, the format follows the break-out sessions of the workshop, with each session offering opportunities to discuss personal experiences of faceless bureaucracy.
Wason and Gardiner have, of course, built this format and present a splendid dance of frustration to illustrate the theme. They also put on a video of Govan in the olden days, which might have evoked the good old days of community or financial hardship, but comes across as a tokenistic gesture towards the venue and the local community.
However, the meat of the production does build a sense of community, first of all in the smaller groups and then, when Gardson (tm) do their dance, through the whole room. The room fills with frustration, anger - and a feeling that battling bureaucracy is a shared misery. The hints of triumph notwithstanding, the tone is sombre: the faceless machinery of banking and taxation have cost real people, in money and time and hope.
Smashing up the expected format of theatre - Gardson act little, and allow the audience to provide much of the content - gets closer to the intentions of the evening. People feel part of something bigger - a group of victims, maybe, and the suggestion by Wason that debt evolves into depression is felt, not just expressed. Resistance is encouraged, simply by the foregrounding of community and Neighbourhood Forum is deceptively profound. Through a few easy steps, Gardson evoke the horror of being human in a world governed by mechanical formula, yet point towards the ways of escaping.
It was probably the moment when The Killers lost the goodwill of the music world: justifying an awkward lyric by blaming Hunter S Thompson. Yet the question - are we biological entities with the ability to make choices, or are we merely moving to a pre-ordained rhythm not of our own making - has bothered philosophers for centuries. While the Law makes the assumption that we have complete agency, the number of people having to work on Saturday suggests that Free Will is a luxury at best, an illusion at worst.
Manipulated objects don't have free will, by definition. Although my interest in determinism is mainly to see whether I can blame external forces for my inability to complete the novel, a more thoughtful analysis can be found in manipulate. Murray Wason, one of Glasgow's dynamic wave of Live Artists, is wondering whether the Automaton is a better description of the human, Cloud Eye Control have a vision of the cyborg and Aalterate ponders the boundaries of the body.
The relationship between human and robot ties in nicely with the whole free will versus determinism routine. Philip K Dick tried to question the exact line between human (being a Christian, of sorts, Dick saw the possession of a soul as being crucial) and machine in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep. In the film version, the robots are sometimes more compassionate and more lively than the humans building them, and if consciousness of death is a distinctly human quality... hang on... that's another essay...
Wason's Automaton sets its course for a putative future, where the machine takes over the mundane tasks and the body is stuffed full of mechanical contraptions. The tag-line "how do we know this heart is real?" hits the sweet spot between heart as biological organ and metaphor for love, with Wason considering the role of the emotions in a world dominated by mechanistic innovation.
Cloud Eye Control are a little more optimistic. Two of their pieces look at triumphs of technology: Ocean Flight recasts Charles Lindenbergh's trans-Atlantic journey into a collaboration between human and machine. Lindenbergh becomes an early version of the cyborg, his relationship to his airplane becoming transformative. Here, the machine enables human achievement and lends transcendence in an almost spiritual ritual.
Aalterate, part of the FAST FILM reel isn't quite so directly interested in the man-machine line, but it does provide a rapid glimpse at the problems of maintaining physical boundaries. And that's a theme within the analysis of the human-robot dualism.
I'm sorry. When I think about the differences between humans and machines, I am always trying to find the line between what counts as human, that is biological, and robotic - mechanical.
There's a traditional idea that the human is easy to define: born through sexual reproduction, made from organic materials, likes a drink, feeds on more organic material: throw in a few ideas about spirituality, maybe a specific relationship to the divine, or the ability to make free choices. And the robot - they might look human, but they are made in a factory, get confused by contradictions (the best way to face down a killer robot is to ask it what love is) and don't have a soul or any of that gubbins. Every so often, they try to take over the world, releasing that humans are inferior.
Unfortunately, the post-modernists got in on the act. The previously simple demarcations were blurred. Once organ replacements could be mechanical, and computer programmes had a degree of AI, making decisions for themselves, the boundary between human and robot blurred. We are all cyborgs when we use a mobile phone, man.
Going the other way, biologists suggested that the way the human body works makes it pretty much an automaton. On the one hand, we are transforming into cyborgs, which is kind of cool. On the other, we always were robots, which sucks.
Then Hunter S got in on the act, wondering whether humans were being trained by society, and were losing free will.
All of which is grand for thinking about, and gives me a blog that reads like a wikipedia entry on freewill written by someone who took too much LSD in the 1960s. However, there are human organisations that rely on a clear definition of what it means to be human. The Law, for example, assumes that a person has complete agency and is responsible for their actions.
If we are robots, the legal system is punishing people for actions that they have no control over.
Understanding whether our mechanical future is liberating, as Ocean Flight implies, or slightly more confusing, pace Wason, is more than just an intellectual exercise. It provides the foundation for social change. A clear grounding in the nature of humanity is crucial for the ongoing evolution of the species within society.
The votes aren't in yet, but the debate is too serious to leave to academics - they are good, but have their own bias towards reason. Art, fortunately, has the capacity both to bring people together and present an argument in emotional and intellectual terms.
When Gary Barlow made his ill-advised comments on a certain act being "too cabaret" (and thereby leading to the creation of the only interesting new tune to come out of X-Factor), he wasn't thinking of cabaret in the sense of a variety evening but a more generic fascination with sequins and show-stopping songs. Buzzcut@manipulate might have an air of cabaret in its diversity of performers but the acts aren't likely to be transferring to a cruise ship anytime soon.
Buzzcut, having had a strong year since their inaugural festival in 2012, brings their signature series of intimate pieces, Five Minutes to Move Me and a couple of shows from artists that they have been working with for a longer period. Murray Wason is having a peek at the robotic future in Automaton while Sarah Hopfinger is looking forward to These Old Age Present Moments.
Both Wason and Hopfinger are associated with the dynamic contemporary practice performance that has made Glasgow a centre for Live Art. Wason appeared in Nic Green's successful Trilogy and makes his own pieces, exploring masculinity and Scottish identity. He also has one of the most disarming smiles in show business. Meanwhile, Hopfinger has shown an interest in environmental change, theatre for building communities and the importance of Bob Dylan songs in the context of naming children.
Despite grappling with serious stuff and coming from a tradition known for its commitment to experimentation, Wason and Hopfinger are lightly humorous and utterly charming.
The final name on the bill is Carles Casallachs. Por Sal y Samba sits on the uncomfortable line between erotic play and domestic violence and features the use of a soft drink as a weapon in the sex wars.
A value for money evening, this one is at Summerhall - last Fringe's hip venue.
Will appeal to fans of: Torture Garden (BDSM themes in Por Sal), Live Art, samba dancers, science (experimental theatre, see. Plus robots), intimate theatre, emerging performers, thrill seeking
