People Do, the inaugural production of No More Theatre Company, hits the Refresh button on the monotonous monologue night.
Monologue nights in upstairs pub theatres can often be a bit tedious – the main issue being that monologues, especially when written by the performer themself, very easily slip into a monotonous reflectiveness. In other words, they lack action. When they reflect, characters very rarely change in real time – a right bummer for theatregoers who come to see just that.
People Do, the inaugural production of No More Theatre Company, hits the Refresh button on the monotonous monologue night.
Founded by graduates of the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, No More Theatre highlights the practice of Yat Malmgren, a monumental figure in acting theory. “Yat,” as he is known in the drama school community (especially at Drama Centre, of which he was a founding member), was interested in finding a character within an actor primarily through movement. Utterly meticulous in his explanations, Yat honed what he called “inner attitudes” of characters by probing how an actor, portraying that character in real time, would move in reaction to certain situations.
Applied to an evening of monologues, Yat’s focus on reactions of characters in high-stakes situations is a recipe for success.
All in, the production wasn’t more than an hour and consisted of four crispy monologues, all taking the form of Yat’s classic “etude” – an exercise in which an actor performs a scene as a character in conversation with at least one other character, alone. By the actor’s reactions to the unspoken text of the other imagined character(s) in the scene, an audience should be able to know what those unspoken words are. It’s an incredibly difficult task for an actor. But when done well, it’s a uniquely refreshing audience experience. After watching People Do, consider me refreshed.
Starting off the evening was actor Charlie McRoberts, who portrayed a hyper-masculine father watching a televised game with his son in a Johannesburg bar. McRoberts dexterously reveals every layer of the onion. His seamless reactions to multiple characters are masterful and show how this father’s toxic awareness of other peoples’ perceptions drives his equally toxic behavior toward his son. Eleanor Dunlop takes the game a bit further, bringing to life an Evangelical PTA President of a California public school before a whole meeting of parents. In her impassioned argument for a Jesus-centric wellness centre, Dunlop expertly embodies an authority figure that buckles under the pressure to react carefully to each of her invisible constituents, ultimately revealing the real (and perhaps not so godly) woman inside.
Luke Vinecombe draws on his university background in war and conflict with a study of a military officer in Berkshire, whose pride and negligence hide a worrisome outlook of his men’s lives. Vinecombe’s attention to the detail of military rank is a thought-provoking use of the etude exercise. To close, Xoan Elsdon plays a divorced father in tense conversation with a child protection officer about a bruise found on the back of his son’s head. The particular drive of this scene isn’t the mystery of Elsdon’s character’s innocence but rather the fierce performance of innocence he puts on in order to fight for custody of his kid.
While each monologue was unique, one thing tied it all together: a coat rack. Before and after each piece, the actors would don or remove one particular accessory or prop. Unfortunately, this device could have been used far more as a symbolic signpost for the performer’s inner transformation into and out of character. Instead, the actors seemed to be hiding in the lighting and music transitions. They came onstage and took their character’s item – a pearl necklace, a backpack, a hat, a jersey – from the rack without any sense of doing, which is what the show was otherwise clearly about. Yat – with his focus on transformation from the outside-in – likely would have enjoyed embracing those transitions a bit more.
That said, Yat would likely also have enjoyed this refreshed take on an evening of monologues. Hopefully, contrary to what their name might suggest, there will be more to see from No More Theatre.
Author: Grace Wallis