Sarah Bowie
posted 2 February 2006

From the moment the curtain was raised on this astonishing production we are faced with a breathtaking image that not only sets the tone for the entire play but also for the project as a whole. For what we are watching is not just a play put together over a few weeks rehearsal and a couple of months research. The Soldier's Tale on the Old Vic stage is a labour of love.

The director of the play and the pioneer of the idea is Andrew Steggal who has seen this feat right through to the end. The idea is as simple and yet challenging as the original story by Stravinsky and Ramuz: Take an age old tale about a soldiers deal with the devil and his ultimate downfall and apply it to the world we know today by setting it in Iraq. But he didn't stop there. He decided not to just design a sandy set and make everyone speak with accents; he decided to stage the entire play in both English and Arabic. Therefore we are treated to two narrators, two soldiers and two devils interweaving their voices to create one tale. Not only that but we have two bands; one western and one Arabic. Both bringing their own voices to the story and helping us drift between cultures and perhaps meld the two. For this is the key to this production: the dialogue between two cultures in the hope of greater understanding and acceptance.

The impact when the curtain goes up is certainly breathtaking. For here is the full depth of the Old Vic stage pushed right back to the far wall, the size is unexpected and impressive. Just like the images we all recognise from the dispatches from war-torn Iraq the stage has been stripped bare and blasted apart by what appears to have been some kind of mortar bomb. A gaping hole lets us view the parts of the stage usually reserved for quick costume changes and stressed stage managers. It helps us imagine that perhaps we have trekked through a war-torn London to see the show, and no matter how beaten up the theatre is; the show must go on.

However we're not in London; we're in the deserts of Iraq and as the action plays out over the carpet of sand and the two bands lounge on piles of rubble, we are transported to this dusty world where it is easy to imagine the Devil lurking behind every rock. As the soldier swaps his violin for a book promising everlasting wealth, we begin to question just what kind of deal has been made as our countries' soldiers play out the consequences of our leaders' pacts.

It is about here in my watching of the play that I began to become a bit unstuck. The concept is phenomenal and the very fact that we're seeing something as politically charged as it is experimental, at the Old Vic (considering its recent offerings) is groundbreaking. But something for me just didn't click. The design is beautiful as I've already mentioned. The lighting and sound both complement the set and add a whole extra dimension: the amplified sounds of lighters and dropping books really prick the senses. The actors are accomplished and attack the script with great intensity and dedication. Yet, perhaps this is where I am getting stuck: the words just didn't grab me. I have to admit that getting used to the Arabic was not an option; you simply couldn't understand it and so you had to just accept it and let it take you along. However this also meant you had the option to zone out for a few moments until the English came along, which had the undesirable effect of making the whole thing feel incredibly slow. It also meant that it became hard to follow what was happening. In fact the gentleman sitting next to me turned to his wife at one point and said rather loudly 'Do you know what's bloody going on?' which made those of us around him snigger as we all connected for a moment in our confusion.

This is the thing. It's a universally understood tale: the selling of your soul to the Devil in return for great fortune and your inevitable decline. Really it shouldn't be too hard to follow. But it is. And it is frustrating. Couple that with some very stylised and seemingly pointless posturing and montages and you begin to wonder whether the original idea has become somewhat lost in the excitement of it all. Put it this way; it's a great story and it already has some great music, all the ground work is there. What Steggal decided to do was use it as an allegory to comment on what is happening in Iraq in our lifetime at the same time as creating this cultural connection between two societies who are still very much in conflict. This is all very good so far. A very good idea. Then suddenly it got big. And I mean this completely unknown theatre company got interest from sponsors and the backing of the Old Vic; people took notice. And what a fantastic opportunity for them to bring this exciting project to the forefront of British theatre. This is huge! Then something went a bit squiffy and I tell you what it was: the story.

In amongst all that set and all that lighting and the pretty hanging violin shedding sand and the 'funky' rhyming couplets ('you're a cheat and a liar, you don't come from the ultimate fire') and the clunky, synchronised movements of the two soldiers and the clumsy movements of the bands and then of course all the publicity surrounding the project as a whole. In amongst all that there should have been a story. But I was distracted, not just by the language but by everything else that was thrown at me. (It was a director's wet-dream - how many theatrical devices can we stuff into forty minutes?) Much like my neighbour in the audience I gave up on understanding the story about twenty minutes in.

Someone said to me afterwards in the bar that after a while he didn't even care about the story because it was so striking, so beautiful. I agreed with him and I also agreed that what this company and director had achieved was incredible and that on its own deserves huge credit. And I am certainly not saying that I do not appreciate how important this project is in terms of the boundaries of theatre and its potential to make a huge difference to our world. But then on the bus home I was mulling this over and I realised that what he had said didn't really sit right for me in my mind.

Of course we need more theatre like this, it needs to challenge and question and create new bonds between severed societies. But does this need to be at the expense of being engaged? Of being excited and intrigued? I was not rapt and I wasn't hooked; I was borderline bored and quite frankly this is one of the reasons we are finding it so hard to tempt the masses back to the empty auditoriums. And who can blame them? Why must it be like that? Just as Stravinsky and Ramuz asked 'What's a human being without a soul?'; it's all very well being able to enjoy staring at a beautiful production but what is theatre without a story?

This was a fantastic idea and it certainly is a beautiful story and it could have been such a coup for this unknown director and his company, The Motion Group, to blow the minds of all those in Theatreland. But unfortunately the subtleties and beauty of the tale disappeared amongst the flashy extras and frenzied attempts at making an 'impact'. A simpler production could easily have made a louder noise.

But all credit to Andrew Steggal; he's leapt from relative obscurity into the eyes and minds of those that matter and I genuinely hope that this production bridges the gaps he intended to bridge. And I predict great things for The Motion Group in the future; but I hope that the roller-coaster ride they have already embarked on with this daring production doesn't cause them to lose their own stories along the way.

Till 4 February 2006