That Philip Ridley has written something that sings when a twenty-six year old performs it and, moreover, that he has entrusted such a challenging piece of theatre to a young body and mind from the first and last strokes of his pen, is inspiring; it’s also, then, doubly astounding that Davidson burns it all to the ground in no time.
There’s a very unique kind of intimacy in Philip Ridley’s one-person plays: the kind that pushes its blade right up to theatre’s jugular and cheekily threatens to bleed it dry if you don’t follow it through to the end. In this latest production of Ridley’s The Poltergeist, something of a different species flows between writer and actor, actor and audience. It is so ambitious in its scope – with a single actor (Louis Davidson) frequently playing out high-speed, multi-character conversations – that the first few minutes feel almost dreadful. You think, Man, are we really going to do this right now?
And then the house lights come back on, and you realize you’ve been listening, butt creased from your seat’s edge, to a non-stop river of theatre for eighty minutes. And the one thing you’re maybe disappointed about is that it wasn’t a few minutes longer.
There are a handful of clear-cut reasons to see the Arcola Theatre’s The Poltergeist, which is currently playing as part of a sister-run with Tarantula (also penned by Ridley and directed by close collaborator Weibke Green).
One of the most immediate reasons is to do with the hair-raising story at its heart – that of a young man, Sasha, whose life has not quite turned out the way everyone told him it would. In the void of what everyone has communicated is of value within him – namely, his skill at painting – he turns to other things, and other thoughts. It all comes to a head at his niece’s fifth birthday party.
Refreshingly, Ridley doesn’t reach for fantastic events to tell his characters’ stories. He’ll use entirely benign ones, like a child’s birthday party, to unpack some of the most detailed, razor-sharp observations on the human soul. It’s writing at its best and makes you wonder if we haven’t yet unearthed all that theatre has to offer.
The other reason to immediately buy a ticket is quite simply the actor playing the young man at the center of it all, the unfairly talented Louis Davidson. That Ridley has written something that sings when a twenty-six year old performs it and, moreover, that he has entrusted such a challenging piece of theatre to a young body and mind from the first and last strokes of his pen, is inspiring. It’s also, then, doubly astounding that Davidson burns it all to the ground in no time.
To say nothing of the dexterity and precision with which Davidson flicks between characters – mapping the bodies, accents, and rhythms of as many as seven people at a time – he possesses a certain kind of radiance that makes you certain he’s going to pull it off shortly after the stage is illuminated and he announces that he has a terrible headache. There are moments when he faces entirely upstage and still manages not to let the ball drop – a real feat for a script of terrain this steep. If anything, it is a testament to Davidson’s knack for 360-degree performance, something one might very well need on a stage with no set and no indication of other characters except one’s own body. It is astounding to watch.
Under Green’s masterful direction, attention is ground to its finest point, right on the actor. All sense of time is lost. At a certain point, you’re brought almost to a kind of high, a sense that, watching this internal monologue turned outward, the writing and the actor are breathing into each other, making each one stronger, clearer, more heightened as the whole thing wrings itself forward. For eighty minutes, Davidson lets the text work his body to a pulp, and the text lets Davidson pull it up by the roots.
If the Arcola continues to be an East London home for Ridley’s work, I’ll be very pleased. And if you’re smart and get your tickets to The Poltergeist and/or Tarantula, you will be too. Wickedly ambitious writing and brilliantly executed by a young cast, this is autumnal theatre not to be missed.