On Thursday evening, the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra took to the stage in the new Tung Auditorium in the Yoko Ono Lennon Centre. Lead by chief conductor, Venezuelan violinist Domingo Hindoyan, the Orchestra performed a three part act, consisting of Rossini’s Overture, The Barber of Seville, followed by Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir de Florence and finally Bizet’s Symphony in C.
The evening started with a bang, with Rossini’s comic opera The Barber of Seville. This piece was electric, consisting of a high energy performance that showcased the entire orchestras skill.
Following this, conductor Domingo Hindoyan introduced us to the agenda of the evening and gave the audience some historical context behind the artists and pieces to follow. I appreciated the comedic aspects of his talk, as it made a night listening to classical music seem less serious.
The Orchestra then shifted and the wind and percussion sections of the Orchestra retreated backstage so the string section could perform Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir de Florence. Originally meant for a much smaller Orchestra, the piece had been adapted to include the larger scope of the Liverpool Orchestra as well as two double bases. This added a depth to the piece, that I hadn’t encountered before.
After the interval, Bizet’s impressive Symphony in C commenced. A work the composer created when he was just 17 years old.
Overall, as always this was an impressive showing from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. The reason I have not given this piece 5 stars is that I would have appreciated some changes to the lighting – as it was very stark. Dim lighting, hiding the audience and highlighting the performers would have enhanced the experience.
Hersh Dagmarr’s nostalgic trip is one for Pet Shop Boys fans, but falls short of revelation
Hersh Dagmarr’s show is described as a love letter to London in the words and music of Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe and an ode to finding one’s home. Whilst there is no clear narrative and the interludes are often quite abstract, we begin to get some idea that this is a show about being a young queer person in London in the 80s. In the moments Dagmarr leans into the exploration of queer life in the 80s in London the songs gain poignancy.
The multi-talented (and bilingual?) Karen Newby opens the show with an overture of sorts. We begin with 2001 A Space Odyssey, and traverse through various famous pieces including The Wedding March, and The William Tell Overture. The intro was complete with dramatic pauses and wry glances at the audience. Newby (who also arranged the music) does a brilliant job of being Dagmarr’s offsider and accompanist throughout.
Dagmarr — a true showman — enters the stage in a fur hat and coat with Union Jack sunglasses and claims to have been drawn in by the beautiful music with no intention to stay. As he continually turns dramatically to the back of the stage in an apparent bid to ‘say no more’ and then says more, the camp tone of the evening is well and truly set. His little set pieces of checking his hair in a framed picture of Princess Diana and his various costume changes always got a laugh. Though he has a strong voice with a flawless falsetto, it is in his comedic patter and audience interaction that he truly shines. When he strays briefly from the Pet Shop Boys music in songs like Eartha Kitt’s An Englishman Needs Time his cabaret style and comic timing are joyful to watch.
But the majority of the show is not cabaret songs, they are Pet Shop Boys tunes without the synth pop backing that made them hits. Occasionally they are mashed up with recognizable cabaret and musical theatre classics like Losing My Mind, and Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien but are mostly unaltered. Now, few pop songs are better without the original instrumentation and production value that made them famous. The form itself calls for repetitive and catchy hook lines that rightfully make these songs hits. Melodic variety and range, lyrical story telling or musical build is often not a priority in pop song writing. Moreover, the beat is usually essential to carry the pieces and give them life.
When I have seen stripping pop songs back to this extent work, it has revealed something previously undiscovered or unheard in the lyrics or melody of the song. In other cases the artist has reimagined the songs in some way. This is where Dagmarr’s show falls down. He does his best to wring comedy or drama out of each number, but it feels added on rather than discovered. More successful songs were It’s a Sin, and I Love You, You Pay My Rent where there is a bit more narrative structure but overall, the songs end up feeling a bit bland when paired solely with piano accompaniment.
I re-listened to the Pet Shop Boys before attending the show and think the music in its original form holds up well. I am a fan, just not of this stripped-down iteration. There will definitely be an audience ready to indulge in this nostalgic journey down memory lane, but for those who are not from that era, this re-imagining of Pet Shop Boys songs may fall short.
‘A hilarious, engaging and thought provoking play, definitely one to watch!’
Two actors walk onto a minimalist stage and introduce themselves, instantly breaking the fourth wall. Jill played by Dani Heron and Ollie by Martin Quinn are immediately likeable. From the offset you feel like a friend hearing the story of their idyllic home but it soon becomes clear that beneath the surface things are not as they seem.
Their tale is a dark one but they tell it in such a relatable manner that you find yourself frequently laughing out loud and starting to question if you have any morals at all. The clear, engaging story telling encourages you to use your imagination as they describe in detail how events unfold.
Philip Ridley’s play is a commentary on greed, desire and the need to keep up with the latest trends, as well as the dream to build a new and better life. It also touches on the pressure young parents feel to provide the best possible life for their new baby. As it progresses, you find yourself considering what lengths you might go to if you were in Ollie and Jill’s shoes.
The direction by John McKnight is fast-paced and sharp leading the audience into unexpected places and dark corners which they secretly enjoy.
The bare stage is cleverly lit to highlight moments in their story and to tell the audience which room the scene is set in. The modern, vibrant lighting changes colour to match the tone of emotion they feel as they tell their tale. Sound is also used to enhance the story telling and draw you into Jill and Ollie’s world.
Early on, we are also introduced to another character, Miss Dee played by Julie Wilson Nimmo. Miss Dee is a bold and bright personality who cleverly weaves the story together. Although she rarely takes the stage, her character remains ever present throughout. However, it is mainly through the eyes of the leads Ollie and Jill, that the audience hears the story.
The first act has lots of humours moments weaved throughout but gets progressively darker in tone and as the second act begins, you wonder if Ollie and Jill may start to have a change of heart.
The penultimate scene, the birthday party showed an incredible feat of acting as the audience watched numerous characters from the neighbourhood come together all shown through the description of Ollie and Jill. This scene alone makes this play a must see.
As the play comes to an end, we see Ollie and Jill grapple with costs of their new designer lifestyle. Are all these beautiful things truly worth the sacrifices they have made? And the audience are left wondering, just what lengths would you go to for your dream home?
If you follow someone down a path you don’t recognise, you risk not being able to find your way back
Fringe favourite BoonDog Theatre (Orlando / Goody) presents PISKIE*, a brand new beautiful story about the tug of war between fantasy and reality. Written and performed by Lucy Roslyn and directed by Jamie Firth, PISKIE is a show for all those who believe there is still a little magic to be found in the world.
Tell us about PISKIE
Piskie is a psychological fairytale. It’s about the hard fall from fantasy. It’s about the hopes we had as children and the fears we have as adults.
Who are the main character(s) in the show and what are they like?
There is a little spell you can cast in Dartmoor where, if the spirits of the Moor are leading you astray, you can turn your pockets inside out and the spirits will let you walk free.
Our main character, Ouida Burt is a psychologist, and a stone cold cynic. However she was raised on the fairytales of her home of Dartmoor and ever so often she still feels that desire to turn her pockets inside out.
How does it feel to be bringing PISKIE to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe?
We’re very excited to be coming back – “Orlando” was our last Fringe show and that was 2019 and wow has THAT time flown by! We’re excited to share this uplifting story and to champion people around us!
Have you done the Fringe before? What are the key pieces of advice you have been given or would give to new groups or people performing at the Fringe?
We’ve done many fringes over the last 15 years. To new groups we say – enjoy it. If you look around you’ll almost certainly find a massive collection of what are *your people*. Get to know them – If you are lucky, as we have been, you’ll find that they are friends and professional connections for life.
Another key piece is – look after yourself, and believe in your work. It can be a rough ride, so remember what you love about the work you’re doing, and do your best!
What do you hope that audiences will take away from PISKIE?
Misty eyes and a smile. Hope. A recommendation to pass on.
What is your favourite thing about Edinburgh during August?
Seriously: Some days your show lands with an audience in the way you dreamed it would, and you come floating out of that theatre like a cloud.
Foolishly: The poutine food truck.
Flippantly: The smell. The sweetly pungent wafts of hops from the brewery, mixed with the acrid belches of hope emanating from the Fringe.
A touching take on grief, strained family relationships, and identity.
Performed by Mad Jacks Theatre, written by Cherry Eckel and directed by Sam Smith, Photographs takes us into the lives of three daughters from a mildly dysfunctional family, recently affected by the recent passing of their grandmother.
The play starts a little uncertain, as we begin without understanding the relationships between the characters on stage, though once the dynamic is established investment becomes easier for the audience.
Where Photographs does well is ensuring it doesn’t tell the same story of grief three times. While the death of the grandmother underpins the narrative, it serves as a catalyst to issues that exist elsewhere. All three sisters occupy niche positions and relationships within the family, which we learn about through the rotating monologues.
Despite all three sisters often all being on stage together, it’s not often that we see the characters interact with each other. Dialogue is minimal, with the play instead driven by the sisters passing the figurative baton for monologue. This lends itself well to the feeling of isolation that the sisters experience as they navigate through the trials and tribulations of their circumstances. It also gives each sister a chance to express their story unclouded by the opinions of their siblings, allowing the characters to flourish in the space given. Each member of the cast seizes this opportunity wonderfully.
Bea, the role model oldest child, played convincingly by Rachel Andrews, has left for university and is struggling with typical fresher challenges; making new friends, sustaining your own existence without your mum cooking for you, and confusion over the sense of home. Andrews enjoys the privilege of the most universally relatable line in the production: “I really miss the age where it was socially acceptable to tantrum” and executes it perfectly – a fine example of the sprinkling of comic relief the play enjoys.
Middle child Sydney is perhaps the most complex of the sisters, Florence Chevallier triumphing with the tough facade masking a vulnerable and confused 16 year old, unsure of how they fit into the world.
Neave Matthews’ performance as youngest sister, 14 year old June, was thoroughly entertaining and captivating as we’re told of school playground dramas and how much she hates her English teacher. The closest child to the recently deceased grandmother, Matthews plays June’s grief with a touching youthful sadness.
Photographs allow us to connect the lives our older relatives lived before we existed, and this sentimental motif is explored throughout the play. While the pace of the play sometimes meanders, the sentimentality prevails and we’re left feeling hopeful that although for most of the play, the sisters have addressed us alone, they ultimately do have each other for love and support.
An original – and sinister – exploration of the dangers of misinformation
Each year since 1995, the National Theatre’s Connections Festival has commissioned new plays for performance by youth theatre groups across the country. 13-19 year olds are inextricably involved at every stage of the process – from workshopping with the writers to running tech at the performance – which promises stories hyper-relevant to British teenagers and rarely seen on the stage. This year’s iteration involves over 6000 young people across 33 theatres, tackling issues such as wellbeing, introversion, the desirability of success, and anxiety.
Titas Halder’s Replica is a fresh, urgent take on the power of misinformation, told through the story of a school trip gone wrong. Upon returning from an archaeological excavation site, rumours swirl that one classmate has been replaced by a “thing” whilst exploring its caves. The gossip spirals, and before they know it this group of schoolchildren are trying to work out how they can test if one of their peers is even human. Can they intimidate him into “glitching”? Can he demonstrate genuine creativity?
It’s novel to see science-fiction at the theatre, especially one staged like a gothic horror. Replica is at its strongest when building this sinister atmosphere: an otherworldly rendition of Radiohead’s Creep standing out as particularly effective, bathed in red light and writhing bodies. Although the writing can be a little on-the-nose with its theme – both flat earth and fake news get explicit mentions – the script maintains a good mix of tension and humour which sees the story unfold at a satisfying pace.
This being youth theatre, there are some areas to develop in the performances: voice projection could be more effective, some of the ‘bigger’ emotions aren’t fully bought into, and a scene which should be quite violent is shied away from in the moment. But this is youth theatre dialled up to an 11. Sound and lighting work effectively to build a menacing atmosphere, and the staging is simple yet effective, with LED doorways shifting around the stage.
Sir Robert Pattinson Academy supplies a cast who are convincing in their performances. The two lead characters – Sam, the boy who has been replaced, and Cora, the girl he became friends with on the trip – are compelling. They are given ample opportunity to show off their skill in a tight script, bouncing off one another with great intensity, and building suspense through ominous monologues.
This reminds us that whilst the Connections Festival is important for developing the next generation of thespians, what makes it really exciting is its urgent and innovative writing. In Replica, we have a genuinely sinister sci-fi-cum-horror story, with its finger on the pulse of 21st century concerns.
The Connections Festival runs each year across the country. Applications to take part in 2025 are currently open.
BMH’s double bill production foregrounds love and interpersonal connection in a fluid and refreshing take on Shakespearean comedy and tragedy.
Bounding in from all angles, the characters seem to breathe life into the open air space, creating massive energy with bold costuming and a semi-acapella soundscape of shouts and cheers as Troilus and Cressida begins.
The simplified staging makes great use of the Oxford Castle & Prison’s ancient stone architecture throughout the double bill in a unique and malleable space.
This sparse stage allows performance to take precedence, the mischievous humour of the cast, first found in Angus Fraser’s portrayal of Pandarus, bubbles its way throughout the production, creating a joyful atmosphere.
There is great strength in the subtlety of interpersonal relationships; some of my favourite moments of the night being small improvisations – or extremely natural deliveries – of muttered discussions and connection between characters.
In Troilus and Cressida, Elizabeth Champion, as Odysseus, achieved this throughout. Her flowing delivery rendered the content clear and relatable to the modern audience, an achievement particularly vital in a play so little known compared to its companion piece, Romeo and Juliet.
Both plays are, at face-value, similar star-crossed love affairs. However, as director Jessica Keill states: “when they are laid out directly beside each other (…) the contrast between the two plays is highlighted”. Troilus and Cressida is, after all, one of Shakespeare’s problem plays, the primary romance of which is desecrated by the selling of Cressida as a war prize. This controversial and unripened relationship is well managed by Grace Boag-Matthews’ sensitive and understanding performance as Cressida.
In fact, the play is surprisingly funny and its flexibility allows for a refreshing departure from strictly traditional elements – the sub-romance of Achilles (Joshua Varty) and his lover Patroclus’ (James McDougall) – was explored unapologetically and naturally. This open, queer relationship felt a true and natural reflection of the tragi-comedic complication of the play, ranging from knowing inside jokes about their closeness to their final tragic moments.
As the evening progresses, the forever stifled love of Troilus and Cressida presents a conflicting backdrop in order to uplift Romeo and Juliet’s blossoming love.
The romance of Romeo and Juliet is bursting with giddy young love; Jessica Sexton as Juliet providing a truly honest and effervescent portrayal of passion alongside the equally enamoured – yet less mature – Romeo (played by Joe O’Connor)
The warmth and passion of many interpersonal relationships bloomed in the dramatic modern Italian setting, elevated by Latin music and grounded in Dune-inspired costuming by Catherine Woolley. The jovial interplay and meaningful connection between Juliet and The Nurse (played by Nicola Jones) creates an endearing bond that corrodes as the tragedy progresses. These intense platonic bonds are concurrent and render the imposing devastation all the more potent. Similarly, the drunk, boyish banter of Romeo and his friends has a lovable cheek that is dashed with Mercutio’s catastrophic death, their original closeness corrupted through Mercutio’s (Alistair Nunn) devastating screams as Romeo attempts to physically comfort him again, and again. Throughout the plays moments of physical connection yield great emotional intensity.
As the evening comes to a close, the sparkling romance of Romeo and Juliet begins to shatter and dim; the natural lighting, creeping further into dusk as lights from behind the audience create a crisp, chiaroscuro effect.
For an evening of laughs and love, painted in many complicated forms, this BMH production is well worth your time.
A brilliantly enjoyable story told with humour, heart, and true artistry, as 19th-century novelist George Sand grapples with gender and identity both in life and on paper.
George, a new play written by Léa des Garets and directed by Rute Costa, is a brilliantly imaginative dive into the world of George Sand. In real life, Sand was a 19th-century French novelist who held her own with the likes of Victor Hugo and Honoréde Balzac, but her fame has often been overlooked since then. In a dreamlike opening sequence, balletic movement combines with immersive sound design to develop an echoing world of socialites, reviewers, and opinionated critics, weaving together the narratives and questions swirling around George’s reputation. Every voice has an opinion on George’s penchants for masculine clothing and numerous lovers, but most agree that her talent is undeniable. This external world then shifts seamlessly into a more intimate space, in which we see George at ease and in love – the public figure’s private life.
As the narrative begins, we meet George searching for ideas for a new show; she is portrayed with poise and sincerity by writer, des Garets. George bounces ideas off one of her lovers – the French actress Marie Dorval. Iniki Mariano as Marie feels perfectly at home in the 19th century. Mariano brings a dancer-like grace and quick wit to Marie, who serves as an excellent foil to George’s literary (and at times melancholy) energy, although their strong wills can cause friction. George soon receives a letter from her editor in Paris, insisting that she begin a new project. We meet the editor, played by Conor Dumbrell, as he brings this letter to life with a masterclass in comic timing and intonation.
George eventually sets to work on a play script, crafting a story about Gabriel, a young person ‘born with a woman’s sex’ but raised as a man in Renaissance Italy. As Marie and George construct this plot, des Garets appears as Gabriel in imagined scenes, and Mariano and Dumbrell populate Gabriel’s world with a variety of characters. Each character has an instantly recognisable silhouette, whether through the actors’ physicality or Delyth Evans’s costumes, and Dumbrell, in particular, exhibits a talent for varied voices and mannerisms. The fairy tale villain in Gabriel’s world (his scheming grandfather) only appears as a looming silhouette, illuminated by Marie Colahan’s lighting to appear as a chilling figure projected onto Delyth Evans’s flowing fabric sets. Jamie Lu’s superb sound design creates uneasy undertones in tenser scenes and offers a brighter tone during several creative movement sequences which pass time or bring the play to a new setting.
Throughout the show, fashion becomes a tool to explore questions of gender and identity – how do one’s clothes affect or reflect your sense of self? As the play opens on the arrival of George’s new jacket, she praises the freedom that men’s clothing brings her; in dresses she was always observed and sheltered, while in trousers she can explore more freely. This scene sets the tone for the rest of the piece in several ways. First, each of the three actors often switch characters by changing their jacket – Evans’s attractive and effective costume design allows the characters to shift seamlessly between George’s world in 19th-century France and Gabriel’s imagined world in 17th-century Italy. This also sets the stage for George’s own questions, and the conflict between how free she feels in these clothes and others’ perceptions that she is unladylike, or even placing herself above other women. Even in the setting of Gabriel, two centuries before George’s time, there were people choosing masculine clothing over dresses both on the page, as characters assumed disguises, and in real life, as many 17th-century figures broke gendered fashion rules, yet George still faced the same deep prejudices that often continue today. The freedom and anonymity that George feels in men’s clothing are also paralleled in her desire to be judged not as a ‘lady who writes’ but simply as a writer. Her editor minimises Gabriel as just another lady’s play about a woman disguised as a man, and George is forced to fight both for a deeper understanding of Gabriel’s character and for her work to be seen as a serious contribution to the literary world.
Cameos from Frederic Chopin and Eugène Delacroix – some of George’s most famous lovers – serve to highlight how George was successful enough to support artists like Chopin at times, and yet how much her legacy has fallen into the shadow of the men in her life despite her immense talent and popularity. The piece ends with an intimate scene as George imagines a conversation with Gabriel; all the other voices are quiet in this moment, and we see only George with the invisible yet palpable presence of this character yearning to be brought to life. Just as Gabriel is the beating heart of his play, so too George Sand is the beating heart in this work. Des Garets states that they “found a soul sister” while researching this piece, and their passion, empathy, and artistry bring an incredible heartfelt feeling to the production. From breathtakingly funny highs to heart-wrenching lows, George is a must-see on every front.
George is currently running at the Omnibus Theatre in Clapham until 14 July, with performances Tuesdays to Saturdays at 7:30 PM and Sundays at 4:00 PM. The performance on 3 July will be followed by a Q&A session with cast and creatives.
We sat down with Giovanni Zazzerra from Z Art Dance who’s company brings Negare (dancer Alexandre Lipaux) to Edinburgh Fringe.
C ARTS | C venues | C Aquila, venue 21
Dates: 12 – 25 August
Time: 14:40 – 30 mins
How do we move against the tides of ourselves and others? When a body changes and bodily tissue shifts, are we the same person at the end?
Hi Giovanni, tell us a little about ‘Negare’ – what can audiences expect?
‘NEGARE’ is a sensitive and intriguing dance piece about the journey of a character who perpetuates a need to observe himself, and to feel observed to expose his identity to the gaze of others. Exposing yourself in front of an audience takes courage, or sometimes simply creates a need to exist. In ‘NEGARE’, this body imposes itself seated on its throne surrounded by a golden carpet, quietly waiting with its carrot in hand for the arena to fill up so that it can finally exist and invite us into its intimate dialogue with itself and its search for identity. Sometimes absurd, sometimes touching, Alexandre invites us to discover him and his authenticity.
How does it feel to bring Negare to Edinburgh’s Festival Fringe as part of the Luxembourg selection supported by KulturLX?
I feel honoured and pleased to have been selected among Luxembourg’s artists to represent our country’s dance and choreographic performance culture. I’m delighted to share my work and my choreographic universe with a new audience that is vast, diverse, and international. I hope to offer them unique emotions through this singular solo.
You’ve been dancing and choreographing for a long time. How has it felt to explore and create ‘Negare’ as part of your ‘Le Tryptiquedance project?
‘The Tryptique’ project was born out of a desire to develop an accessible format by creating a set of three dance parts that could be presented individually, or together, on the same evening. It consists of the solo “NEGARE”, which will be presented at this year’s Fringe festival; the duo “(di)SPERARE”; and the trio “CREDERE”. These three works explore the conditioning of the human need for belief. For me, this artistic trilogy came about at an important stage in my life, out of a desire to delve deeper into a vast and potentially infinite theme. That’s why it was necessary to break it down into three performances, taking us on journeys where the body expresses, through different states, the need to believe in the invisible in order to make it visible.
Each of these three works has a contrasting, diverse, and unique universe. Despite everything, a common thread unites them to harmonise these three singular universes. The creative process was an interesting choreographic challenge for me. It allowed me to explore different approaches for each of these three creations – notably that of NEGARE – where alongside the dancer Alexandre Lipaux, we ventured into the exploration of a bodily and theatrical expression, giving life to a unique character who unfolds his universe on a surprising journey while letting the body communicate.
Explain Z Art Dance to us – what do you do and why?
Created in 2020, the Z Art Dance Company works to contribute to the development of artistic creation linked to the art of dance & choreography. Supported by the Company of the Luxembourgish Ministry of Culture, Z Art Dance develops work that explores diversity in dance – whether this be by form, space or public involvement. We place great importance on the human side in its artistic work, promoting artistic exchanges and collaborations which are an important part of the Company’s identity.
We place great importance on diversification, and our mission is to create works for a wide audience, whether young or informed. Convinced that movement is a human necessity, the multidisciplinary artistic approach that I bring to my work focuses on the trust of the body, guided through its inherent energy where images, motions, and emotions appear. My work explores the complexities of the human, identity and the authenticity of movement through the poetic into the absurdist, social, emotional, and temporal topics, materialising it in space, time, performance, and moments.
Finally, in three words, how would you describe ‘Negare’?
A visually spectacular and epic tale of loss and survival.
Lolita Chakrabarti’s adaptation of Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, directed by Max Webster at the Festival Theatre, is a breathtaking journey that explores the depths of human resilience and the power of storytelling. This production masterfully blends visual spectacle with profound philosophical inquiry, creating an unforgettable theatrical experience.
At its core, Life of Pi is the tale of a young Indian boy stranded at sea with a Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. Chakrabarti’s adaptation delves deeper, unflinchingly examining the brutal realities of survival and the lengths to which one might go to endure unimaginable circumstances. Tim Hately’s ingenious set design transports the audience across time and space, from a sterile hospital room to the family-run zoo and vibrant markets of India, and finally to the vast, unforgiving Pacific Ocean. The use of floating debris, manipulated by ropes, creates a mesmerizing illusion of Pi’s 227-day ordeal at sea. This is an extended metaphor which perfectly encapsulates the story’s central theme: the blurred line between reality and imagination in the face of trauma.
Finn Caldwell’s puppetry direction is nothing short of revolutionary. The seamless integration of actors and puppets transcends mere stagecraft, becoming a profound exploration of the human-animal bond. The tiger, Richard Parker, is brought to life with such precision and emotional depth that it becomes a character as complex and nuanced as any human on stage. This masterful puppetry not only serves the narrative but also invites the audience to contemplate our connection to the natural world and the universal struggle for survival in all its forms.
The lighting design by Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling is a character in itself, transforming the stage from the warm, golden hues of Indian markets to the cold, unforgiving blues of the open ocean. Their work goes beyond mere illumination, creating tangible atmospheres that heighten the emotional impact of each scene. Particularly noteworthy is their ability to conjure the illusion of water, making the audience feel the precariousness of Pi’s situation.
Carolyn Downing’s sound design envelops the theatre in an auditory landscape that ranges from the gentle lapping of waves to the terrifying roar of storms. Her work adds depth to Pi’s hallucinations and memories, blurring the line between past and present, reality and fantasy.
The cast delivers performances of remarkable depth and versatility. Sonya Venugopal’s Pi is a tour de force, capturing both the wide-eyed innocence of youth and the fierce determination of a survivor. Goldy Notay brings warmth and spiritual depth to her portrayal of Amma, while Ralph Birtwell’s nuanced performance as Pi’s father showcases the complexities of parental love and authority.
Life of Pi is more than just a visually stunning production; it’s a profound meditation on the nature of truth and the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of tragedy. It challenges the audience to consider whether objective fact is always more valuable than personal truth, and how we find meaning in the face of loss.
This adaptation doesn’t just retell Martel’s story; it reimagines it for the stage in a way that fully utilizes the unique possibilities of theatre. It’s a testament to the power of live performance to move, challenge, and transform its audience. Life of Pi is not just a play to be watched, but an experience to be felt, a journey that will linger in the mind and heart long after the final curtain falls.
