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Honey,
Baby Project
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Shirley Dent |
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Confusion, embarrassment,
disorientation, and trepidation all go towards making this performance
work. And that's just the audience. Arriving at 15.30 on a Sunday at Sidcup station, I quickly joined a band of fellow spectators - 'You here for the train-theatre thing?' 'Yeah.' We were nervy at the start. There was a near miss when the audience almost got on the wrong train. This was followed by about fifteen minutes of waiting and sussing: waiting for the next train and sussing out if anyone loitering on Sidcup's murky station platform was an actor in cognito. At moments I had misconceived urges to sidle up to people and whisper 'You a thesp then?' However, when the cast arrived it was obvious they were the cast, dressed in self-consciously absurdist attire. This was the one moment I felt disappointed. I had somehow wanted the actors to be seamless with the loiterers, to suddenly emerge from within us. However, this feeling passed. The cast really used the station. Very simple things, like the physical separation of two platforms helped to heighten confrontation and desire. Cardboard boxes collapsed and folded (portability counts in this performance), banners were literally in your face, and there were looks of 'Fucking weirdos' from a few. Then we got on the train, accompanied by beautiful singing and haunting clarinet playing. There is one distinct advantage of performing a play on a train: an audience reaction is almost certainly guaranteed. In this performance you can't help notice the audience as part of the performance and this is rather rewarding. People got into it. Some teenage girls took the momentous decision to 'Stay and watch the freak show'. I burst into real, spontaneous laughter with the woman sitting next to me, who had unsuspectingly walked in on this. Our laughter was induced by one actor trying to catch up with the train as he brandished a sign saying 'Ernie meet me at the end of the platform.' This may all sound like highbrow busking and jolly good fun. Well it is. But the quality of acting and writing also made it something more. The actor playing Ernest James (complete with Mittel European accent) made a terrific job of his 'I am the middle' speech, in which the confidence of donor-card carrying middle England breaks down into the blandness of repression and racism. People nodded, smiled, smirked and recognised we were part of this middle as well as Ernie. Some may go away and ponder that some more. But even if you weren't so inclined, well, it gets you out of the house, hey.
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