Tag: cambridge

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Ben Kulvichit

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We sat down with Ben Kulvichit from Emergency Chorus, performing Ways Of Knowing. For ticketing and info, please find here.

Ways of Knowing explores different ways humans try to predict the future, from scientific instruments to mysticism and divination. What first sparked your interest in this theme, and why did it feel relevant to explore now?

The world is an uncertain place. It feels such an obvious thing to say, but it’s true. Even just on a personal level, our own lives feel more precarious now than they ever have. We got interested in ways that people seek certainty or knowledge about the future because, fundamentally, we have so little. We were interested in how to be okay with uncertainty, and also in the possibilities that making friends with uncertainty could open up.

It also feels to us like certain acts of prediction are not neutral. Tech corporations, for instance, are always trying to stay ahead of the curve, but in predicting where the future is going — AI, etc — actually work to bring that future into being. Often the attempt to tell the future feels like dictation, a way of furthering the status quo and protecting existing systems of power, or a headlong race in a predestined direction without consideration for the long-term consequences of the machinery they set in motion. What would it take to rupture a trajectory that sells itself as inevitable? Is that the difference between prediction and prophecy? A prophecy as something that breaks something…

The show combines dance, found text, sound design and improvised choreography. How did these different elements come together in the creative process, and how do they interact on stage?

We are proud jacks of all trades. We’ve always enjoyed stealing from different disciplines, and doing things we don’t ‘know’ how to do. I guess there’s not one way of approaching something that feels right to us, but what does feel right is to incorporate loads of different perspectives, approaches, aesthetics — to try to create this collage that can hopefully add up to more than the sum of its parts and capture something of the way the world feels.

Dance and movement is a really key part of the language of this piece, though. There is choreography that is totally set and difficult to memorise (we wanted a part of the show that we had to be completely certain of in order to perform — and that we might fail at), and improvised dance that involves us moving without knowing what’s going to happen. Improvisation as a way of literally ushering in the future. We’re not trained dancers and we have a particular way of moving, but we challenge ourselves in this show to expand that vocabulary.

The piece is structured in two mirrored halves — All the Barometers in the World and The Spelunkers. Could you talk about the thinking behind this dual structure and how the two parts relate to each other?

All the Barometers in the World centres around a couple of Victorian weather forecasting devices, one of which involves a very particular secret ingredient. It’s about men of science, and the desire to rationalise, quantify and interpret an unknowable world. We’re looking up to the skies and interpreting the data.

The Spelunkers looks the other way and goes underground. We got interested in cave exploration, darkness, and hermits who have visions of the future. It’s asking questions like: ‘What can we discover in the dark, or in solitude, that we didn’t know that we already knew?’ And ‘can you ever truly know what’s in the hole without getting in the hole yourself?’

We made the first part first thinking it would stand alone as a short half-hour piece. We did that, but it didn’t feel enough somehow. Then we made the second part and the two came together to make a whole. One isn’t quite complete without the other.

The imagery in the show — from meteorological devices to caves and hermits — feels quite eclectic and evocative. How did you develop the visual and conceptual world of the performance?

As I mentioned, we really like to sample and collage in our work. We tend to start with a lot of research, getting obsessed with things — the broader the reach, the better — and then we find ways of bringing things we find together, or sitting them next to each other, or layering them on top of each other. It’s in those juxtapositions and tensions that the work gets interesting. What exactly does a Victorian inventor have to do with a hermit have to do with a cave in Somerset?

Visually, we knew wanted to work with smoke and darkness, two things that are very basic parts of the theatrical technical apparatus, and can both be ways of obscuring things, making things hazy or uncertain, putting you in an altered state. People have told us that the show is incredibly atmospheric for a piece that is made on basically no budget!

Emergency Chorus has previously created works like Landscape (1989) and CELEBRATION. In what ways does Ways of Knowing continue or depart from the ideas and styles you explored in those earlier pieces?

Thematically, it’s bang on trend. We joke that we just make the same show again and again — we’re always fixated on the idea of the future, on the tension between hope and despair, and on the incredibly difficult, incredibly important task of trying to imagine a future that’s different to the present.

Stylistically speaking, Landscape (1989) was a very meditative, spacious piece in which we barely spoke any text. By contrast, CELEBRATION was energetic, bright and charming. I think Ways of Knowing in some ways synthesises those two moods. One audience member said it was very warm and welcoming at the same time as being mysterious and opaque. I like that. It also ends with a scene that’s tonally super different from the rest of the show, and from anything else we’ve made. That’s probably my favourite part of the show (no spoilers!).

REVIEW:  Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts

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Rating: 3 out of 5.

Murder takes centre stage in this dynamic whodunnit – a twisty, theatrical treat that breathes new life into a classic character.

There’s something undeniably thrilling about a murder mystery set in a theatre. Add a renowned detective such as Inspector Morse to the mix, and you’ve got the kind of premise that feels bound to succeed. Thankfully, Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts does a good job of living up to its potential. Indeed, it opens with one of the most dynamic starts to a play I’ve seen in a while.

We begin not with Morse, but with Hamlet – or rather, Justin (Spin Glancy) playing Hamley. The production launches with a play-within-a-play conceit, instantly pulling us in: we, the audience, are characters now ourselves, playing the audience watching a performance. Justin is centre stage delivering a melancholy monologue, and Rebecca (Eliza Teale) enters as Ophelia. It’s a clever set-up, heightened by murmurs, background noise and disruption from the ‘audience’ that, for a moment, had me convinced that someone behind me was demonstrating terrible theatre etiquette.

Then, mid-scene, Rebecca drops dead – and Shakespeare gives way to Morse.

Tom Chambers’ Inspector Morse makes his entrance not from the wings but from the back of the auditorium, striding towards the stage as if he’d been sitting in the audience with us. Director Lawrence (Jason Done) leaps to the front of the upper circle, calling down to him. It’s a bold, engaging opening that makes excellent use of the whole theatre space, and immediately establishes this as a production that wants to harness the power of live performance.

For fans of the original TV series (and of course, the Colin Dexter crime novels), this is a strong and respectful adaptation of the character. The mystery itself is satisfyingly intricate, layered with secrets, hidden relationships, and the kind of red herrings and complex revelations that Morse is known for. At times, as the case unravelled further, I’ll admit I found myself scrambling to keep up. The play was moving at a speed that far outpaced my brain slowly connecting the dots! But what keeps it from being too overwhelming is the clarity of the performances – each member of the cast is clearly define, their motivations and personalities distinct enough to keep you anchored even as the plot twists further.

The staging also deserves particular praise – the set makes great use of rotating pieces, shifting us rapidly from backstage dressing rooms to the police station to the pub. Most effectively, the back of the stage features an image of auditorium seats, so that at times it feels as though we really are on stage with the actors, looking out into an empty house. It’s a well-utilised trick that keeps us very much in the moment with the characters, and reinforcing the idea that this mystery is as much about performance as it is about crime.

The characters all take very distinct roles, bordering on caricatures at times, allowing each person to play a clear role in the puzzle – and the production delights in keeping the audience guessing. The interval was accompanied by a hum of excited speculation; it was a lot of fun to overhear my fellow audience members predicting what would happen next. I, too, spent the interval theorising who was guilty (I was wrong). There’s something uniquely communal about a good whodunnit, and this one leans into that.

That said, there were moments when the acting tipped slightly into overstatement. A little more restraint in places might have allowed for greater nuance, particularly with Morse himself. The script offers him the suggestion of an intriguing backstory and hints at an emotional depth that is quite distinct from what’s offered in the television incarnation. I couldn’t help wishing that this production had leant into this more – particularly with such promising material. Chambers certainly captures Morse’s intensity and cynicism, but there’s an opportunity here for more depth that felt just out of reach.

However, these are quibbles in what is overall a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The final twist genuinely caught me off guard (the true test of a good murder mystery) and resolution is both satisfying and dramatically earned. Anyone who loves a cleverly constructed whodunnit, filled with twists and grand reveals, will find plenty to enjoy here.

Perhaps most hearteningly, House of Ghosts feels like a generational uniter. I went with my mum, a longtime Morse fan, and we were surrounded by others similarly sharing the experience with family. Some were clearly there for the nostalgia of a beloved detective, while others like me were there for the thrill of seeing a mystery unfold on stage. The result was a warm, buzzing atmosphere that felt shared – and truly fun.

In short, Inspector Morse: House of Ghosts is a twisty, theatrical treat: smart, playful and taking interesting steps to remind us why we love watching secrets unravel on stage – all while breathing new life into a classic character.

This show runs at The Arts Theatre Cambridge until 14 February 2026, before continuing on tour.

REVIEW: Twelfth Night 

Published on by Ella ThornburnLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“With mischief, music and madness, the Marlowe Arts Twelfth Night has it all“

Cambridge University’s esteemed Marlowe Arts Show has seen the likes of Emma Thompson, Tilda Swinton and Ian McKellen make their debut on a professional stage; as such the company has a reputation for birthing upcoming stars. Having witnessed the incredible talent in this year’s production of Twelfth Night, I am certain this reputation is well earned. The skill within this student cast was evident from the show’s opening moments, where shipwrecked Viola, played absolutely stunningly by H Sneyd, drew us into the upturned world of Illyria. Throughout, it was impossible to take your eyes off of Sneyd; they owned the stage with a natural mastery that is rare to find whilst handling the nuanced layers of Viola’s multilayered identity with impressive subtlety and control. 

Lauren Akinluyi was delightful to watch as the hopelessly lovestruck Olivia, ensuring the production had an incredibly strong foundation as the central unrequited love affair between herself and Viola, who she believes to be a young man named Cesario, played out. Buoyant and magnetic, Akinluyi was a wonderful figurehead for the frivolity unfolding in the opulent manor house director Micheal Oakley conjures. With Twelfth Night’s alternative title  ‘What You Will’ displayed in a gameshow style lettering across the backdrop, morphing cleverly as the plot’s many mishaps and mismatches unfold, it was clear anything goes, and little will go to plan… 

A fantastic casting decision to portray Viola and Sebastian as androgynous identical siblings, retaining their androgyny even after their ‘true’ selves are unveiled, amplified the brilliant exploration of the fluid and expansive nature of identity that grants Twelfth Night its timeless resonance. Enya Crowley as Sebastian crafted a tender relationship with Sneyd, offering moving moments of loss and uncertainty, furthered in the touchingly sincere loyalty of Antonio (Max Parkhouse) to Sebastian. This was a necessary undercurrent to an otherwise uproariously funny performance. 

Providing comedy was a real strength of this outstanding cast, with Sir Andrew Agucheek (Toby Trusted), Sir Toby Belch (Theo Francis) and Feste the Fool (Stella Williamson) forming a devious trio who frequently erupted into irresistibly raucous dance, disarray and calamity. Williamson’s Feste ensured that music was not only ‘the food of love’ but offered some of this production’s most exciting moments, delivering the Fool’s pithy speeches through song. Her strong voice alongside the incredible live band provided delightful musical moments, honouring c16th clowning traditions while retaining an engaging contemporary feel through catchy melodies and Williamson’s tastefully modern re-imaging of the Fool as a hilariously unbothered, branflake-munching mischief maker. Likewise, Jacob Mellor as Orsino brought well-pitched melodrama to the stage in his search for a melody to soothe his lovesickness, and his amusing devotion to Feste’s song. 

Oakley’s sharp vision, assisted by Sophia Orr, never missed an opportunity for a laugh, punctuating the play’s plentiful moments of crosswired love affairs with the eruption of red love heart balloons, a gag they returned to and elevated effectively throughout to physicalise each character’s unique plight. Yet, nothing quite matched the uncontrollable laughter rippling through the entire auditorium every time Eddie Adams’ Malvolio entered the stage. His brilliant crafting of the ridiculously severe, gullible servant ensured even the tiniest eyebrow raise had the room in stitches. Adams delivered Malvolio’s much anticipated yellow-garter-clad rampage to outstanding success, giving Tamsin Greig’s iconic performance for the National (2017) a run for its money and certainly forming a standout moment of the entire production. 

There was never a dull moment in this pacy and unpredictable re-imagining of a well-loved play. It is clear a huge amount of dedication has gone into forming such a slick and inventive show, and this has certainly paid off. With the exception of a few opening night nerves flickering amongst some cast members, adding a slightly restrained quality to a few moments, this student show would not be out of place in the professional theatre industry. I urge anyone looking for an uplifting night of comedy, chaos and eventual happy endings to head to the Cambridge Arts Theatre before the end of this run!

Twelfth Night runs until 24th January. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Another Goodbye

Published on by Ella ThornburnLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Adie Mueller’s ‘Another Goodbye’ is a tender-hearted testament to theatre’s cathartic abilities”

Despite being our single most unifying experience, today’s western culture has become decidedly obstinate against talking about death. It is rare that we are afforded a space so inviting through which the emotions many of us carry constantly can be unleashed. Mueller welcomes us with an abundance of comfort and care, providing blankets, tissues and tea served in a variety of mismatched mugs that are sure to evoke instant nostalgia. Whether entering the auditorium full of apprehension or longing to sit in remembrance and grief undistracted, ‘Another Goodbye’ gently transports us away from the rush of the everyday into what feels like an almost spiritual realm of reverence for the inevitable.

There is a hugely satisfying directness to Mueller’s performance style, recounting the death of her mother and the anticipatory grief of hospice care with appropriate frankness. Her dialogue feels precise and honest, her presence on stage effortless and enchanting. The stage is relatively pared back, dressed with two multipurpose sheets and a few small set pieces. Likewise, Armin Lorenz Gerold’s sound design acts as an enhancing, atmospheric underscore to Mueller’s engaging voice. For a play about dying, Mueller brings surprising vitality to the space, enclosing herself in a circle of treestumps and using projections to showcase the lively smiles of her mother; her childhood home; the trees of the German countryside where she grew up. This aligning of death with nature was a beautifully executed feature of the show, framing a devastating event through a lens of acceptance and necessity. It wasn’t over emphasised or overindulged, but subtly communicated through skilful performance choices that allowed a consoling realisation to slowly unfold. The versatile, considered writing led us through a reconciliation with shocking, devastating loss, only after which we can reclaim the ever-present, worldly essence of our loved ones despite the detachment from their physical existence.

The performance is punctuated by introspective meditative moments, asking us to relish the present through various sensory exercises. Not only did these incisions make the onset of powerful emotion more palatable, but served to form a tangible sense of connection and appreciation amongst the audience. I was interested to learn from the show’s director, Anne Langford, that these incisions had originally been part of an audio-recording, the medium through which ‘Another Goodbye’ had its first life amidst the backdrop of lockdown, somewhat altering their purpose – they were a means of connecting physically with audiences despite several barriers. I wonder if, in the transition from this to stage, there was perhaps room to maximise the already emerging propensity for these moments to become a more intentionally constructed meditative journey, potentially working alongside psychologists to encourage a mindful emotional navigation of the play’s themes. This is not to detract from the sensitivity with which the show is presented- its ability to straddle both performance and therapy is absolutely an asset, however it could have been pushed even further.

The partnership between ‘Another Goodbye’ and the Cambridge Arthur Rank Hospice was a thoughtful, touching addition, offering a 45 minute discussion after the show. This felt like a much needed buffer between the raw world Mueller invites us into and stepping back out into the everyday, only serving to emphasise the extreme need for spaces where grief and death are not taboo. Hearing the experiences of other audience members greatly enriched the evening, and widened empathy for grievances that occurred in different circumstances to Mueller’s. Impressively, every audience member felt seen, held and comforted by Mueller’s story, despite each having unique and largely varied encounters with grief, a real testament to the show’s universal relatability and compassion.

Having never visited the venue before, I was charmed by the intimate nature of the Cambridge Junction’s black box studio, a perfect location for Mueller’s moving piece. What impressed me even more was how both Mueller and Langford maximised the audience engagement this space offered them, taking great care to converse with audience members and open conversations. Having such close interaction with the artist is a rarity I greatly enjoyed, a real merit of regional theatre.

‘Another Goodbye’ is hugely successful in maximising theatre’s ability to unify communities and honour emotions in a safe yet uninhibited environment. Although Mueller does not shy away from the fact that we can never be fully prepared for an encounter with the death of a loved one, shows like this are immensely helpful in processing that overwhelming emotional space. It will undeniably provoke conversation around loss, grief, death and hospice care, yet equips audiences with a humble yet steady hope before doing so. Mueller is a masterful writer and stirring performer whose work I am thoroughly grateful to have encountered- I am certain all who experience this affirming, empathetic piece of theatre will carry it with them for a long time to come.

REVIEW: Signal to Noise

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Rating: 2.5 out of 5.

“A fever dream of innovative experimental theatre that suffers from its monotony”

Signal to Noise is the latest show from Sheffield-based ensemble ‘Forced Entertainment’, a company with a long history of devising experimental theatre to provoke audiences worldwide. Premiering on the year of the groups 40th anniversary, Signal to Noise continues their trend of challenging all that audiences expect when they leave their houses at 7pm for an evening of theatre.
Six performers enter the sparsely decorated stage. Along the entire length of the left and right sides run clothes racks, populated with a huge number of varied eccentric jackets and colourful dresses. Tucked away beside these are an array of seemingly anodyne household items: buckets, broomsticks, house plants, desks, etc. I sunk into my seat as the light dimmed, anxious to see what narrative could be constructed through the endless permutations of these items. How naïve I was to the absurd world of Forced Entertainment…
Signal to Noise is a barrage of ideas; a hurricane scattering shards that the viewer will have to pick up and arrange themselves. Throughout the piece, fragments of actions, movement and speech are presented and combined in seemingly random ways. A frenzy of actors slipping in and out of outfits, between identities and acting out frivolous tasks (e.g. moving a houseplant two metres to the left, only for it to be immediately moved back). AI voices are used to introduce minute snippets of speech which are lip-synced by the actors, the content of the lines seeming plucked from random conversation/thought, removed from any context. Sometimes one actor is the source of these words, often multiple are, creating a bizarre fluidity to the notion of identity within the group, with voices often being shared and slipping between cast members.
The discordant nature of identity was compounded by the frequent, often imperceptible costume changes – a clever distraction of the audience’s attention at the right moment and new “characters” seem to appear out of nowhere – creating a transience that quickly becomes disorientating.
The use of dialogue often followed a unique pattern: a fragment of speech is introduced, repeated and modified slightly in its delivery/content before being joined by a separate fragment in a different voice, with multiple seemingly disconnected ideas clashing and mingling with each other, like some sort of absurdist fugue. This counterpoint plays out on a sound bed featuring raucous studio laughter, birdsong, dissonant piano chords, and ticking clocks to name a few, all contributing to the complex interplay of motifs.
The interpretations of this piece are infinite, which is central to its ingenuity. Presenting the audience with a jumbled mix of audio and visual stimuli essentially creates – put neatly by the writer and leader of Forced Entertainment – a theatrical “Rorschach test”, with the viewer projecting the contents of their own mind onto the raw material before them. The effectiveness of this approach was immediately confirmed by the conversations that bubbled up around me as the lights came up: “I think it was about technology”, “No it was obviously about climate change”, “are you kidding? it was about capitalism and the inevitability of death!”. Of course, Signal to Noise was about all of these things, and much more.
Clearly, Signal to Noise is more concept driven than anything else, foregoing narrative completely. Granted, a very interesting concept it is, but the lack of any overarching arc or thematic development throughout the ninety minute duration can result in a viewing experience that quickly becomes rather one note in its chaos – oxymoronically, predictably random – leading the audience to wonder if the same effect couldn’t have been achieved in half an hour.
Overall, Signal to Noise is due credit for and furthering ‘Forced Entertainment’s impressive longstanding contribution to experimental theatre. However, some may find the experience is ultimately more rewarding to think about after the fact than it is to sit through.

In Conversation with Tim Etchells

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

We sat down with Tim Etchells, writer and leader of Forced Entertainment, who bring Signal to Noise to Cambridge Junction on 16th and 17th October. Forced Entertainment’s work explores and often explodes the conventions of genre, narrative and theatre itself drawing influence not just from drama but from dance, performance art, music culture and popular forms such as cabaret and stand-up.

1. With Signal to Noise marking 40 years of Forced Entertainment, how does this piece reflect the evolution of the company’s artistic vision over the decade?

As a piece I think it’s several things at the same time. It’s a surprise – we’re working with lip-syncing for the entire piece – it’s a formal device and theatrical mode that we’ve never worked with before.. And at the same, despite this innovation, this departure, you can also recognise a deep connection to other shows we’ve made, other approaches. John Peel used to say of The Fall “always different, always the same” – I think there’s something of that in Forced Entertainment.

One thing we’ve learned over the years is never do things by halves. If we’re pursuing an idea or a new direction in a piece, we want to push it all the way. That singularity has become something of a trademark for us.

2. The use of AI voices and lip-syncing adds an intriguing layer to the show. What drew you to explore the interplay between human performers and disembodied AI in this production?

It’s started as things often do for us – not with and abstract idea, themes or concept – but with something practical, a rehearsal room experiment. So it began from doing, from playing AI voices in the studio and asking the performers to lipsync. Watching those early experiments was fascinating – something about the mismatch of the bodies and the voices had this uncanny quality. The voices make the real bodies look unreal and the real bodies somehow make the voices seem more real. It was a weirdly compelling experience. We were gripped by this, not as a concept but as a fact in the room. That’s how we make work – something compelling, or weird or funny or troubling happens in the rehearsal room and we want to know more, we want to go further in that direction. Simple as that. A project like this one comes from that curiosity 

3. Signal to Noise blends performance magic with a sense of deconstruction. How do you balance creating an engaging spectacle while also encouraging the audience to question what they’re seeing?

I really don’t see those as two things as separate jobs. Engaging people and encouraging them to ask questions about what they are seeing is part of the same process, part of the same thing. Scenes, images, exchanges between performers and so on are all so much more engaging if the audience also gets pulled into questions about what they’re seeing. That’s what’s compelling.

4. The musical score for Signal to Noise features an eclectic mix of sounds, from grunge guitars to birdsong. What role does this diverse soundscape play in shaping the atmosphere and themes of the performance

That’s a great question. The sound score plays a really important role. The AI voices we use for the texts in the piece have a certain steady tone and pace – amplified by the fact that I slowed almost all of them down! So we’re dealing with a rather static object, something quite predictable. A lot of the performance works in response to this… like kicking a ball against a wall. The performers change costumes, change wigs, animate themselves physically, bringing different energies to meet and contrast with the stillness of the voices. What’s interesting is that with all these physical and visual changes of energy you start to feel as an audience that the voices are changing… the visual track bends the voices. Making the piece I used the soundtrack elements in a similar way – layering different kinds of music fragments and atmospheres became a really useful tool in driving the voices in different ways, spinning us into new energies. 

5. Given the show’s abstract and fragmented nature, how do you envision audiences interpreting Signal to Noise? Do you encourage varied, personal responses to the performance?

For sure, that’s an important part of it. We’re always interested in creating space for the audience. What I think we do, what I hope we do, is put some strong propositions on the stage – dynamic ideas, contrasts, compelling images that all circulate in a certain domain, around a certain set of thematics – but the work of the audience is always to deal with, to speculate, imagine and question around these co-ordinates. I think about it like we make a constellation of forces and energies on the stage, the audience are reading in and between those things. There’s a focus, there’s a territory to the show… certain ideas are in the air…. but the audience are the ones who have to navigate. And yes, as you suggest, this can be quite an individual process… watching our work you always have time with your own thoughts. It can be like a Rorschach test.. what you bring to the work is quite important.

© Temper Theatre

In Conversation with: Finn Morrell

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‍HOME is a heart-warming story of memory, imagination and parenthood. Find your way back home with Temper Theatre’s latest production, which combines their signature blend of fluid, muscular movement, soul-shaking soundscapes, and evocative imagery, accompanied by original music composed by Dave Price.

As the flood rises, Imogen is swept up on a fantastical wave of self-discovery, unlocking an entirely new perspective on the place she once called home…

Finn founded Temper Theatre in 2014 in Cambridge UK, with the support of award winning directors Rich Rusk and Richard Fredman, and is now touring his work in the UK and Internationally. Finn Morrell is also the creator of HOME, and we chat with him about the production and his creative process!

© Finn Morrell

HOME draws from your own personal experiences returning to your childhood home  – what was it like using this to draw from when creating the piece?  

Simultaneously daunting and exciting. I think its always revealing and sometimes uncomfortable to  reflect on past choices and memories, especially when you’ve grown up a bit and may have  different opinions or perspectives about things. I was asked by my parents to return home to help  them move house and pack up my untouched childhood bedroom and it was that process which  uncovered a whole series of emotions which surprised me. Stories I had forgotten, moments and  memories that had been long buried suddenly resurfaced in compelling ways. Perhaps creating  ‘HOME’ was my way of processing this experience and it has been very cathartic to do so.  

Temper Theatre is known for its physical theatre and staging – what usually comes  first when devising the show, the story or the set and vision?  

It starts with a genuine curiosity about something. I don’t always know what that will be and I try  not to force it, it comes to me and keeps niggling until I have no choice but to investigate why. I  then research a lot in an effort to dive deeper and see if it’s something I want to stage. Eventually  fragments of plot / vision for how it might look, feel and sound starts to emerge. That’s when I work  with a brilliant creative team to help realise these ideas. I knew I wanted a house on stage but it  took the genius of my design team to help create something that felt interactive, decaying, alive  and atmospheric in ways I could never have imagined. Equally the incredibly composer Dave  Price and the international team of talented performers bring a whole new level to it.  

How important is it to you that the messaging around the environmental impact  within the show is shared?  

Inadvertently I have always made work which reflects our relationship with nature. Participating in  ZOOM discussions during the pandemic about flooding in The Fens felt much more immediate to  me than the concept of ‘climate change’ which can often feel distant or abstract. One in six  properties, are at risk of flooding in England and this shocked me. I wanted to humanise flooding and create a story which shows the real impact an extreme weather event could have on  someones friendship, family and community. Ultimately ‘HOME’ is there not to lecture but to bring  about positive and stimulating conversations about floods, inviting audiences to consider the  environment closer to home.  

Has the piece changed much since taking it to Edinburgh Festival Fringe, and in  what ways? 

Edinburgh was the first time we showed the work and we only had one month of practical  rehearsals so I was desperate to get my hands back on it after the run at the Fringe. I learned a lot  once it had gone in front of an audience. I could see and feel which elements needed more work  and we have been working tirelessly over the winter to refine it. There’s a few more scenes, some  cuts and some beautiful new set design to help audiences find their way into the work.  

Do you think you’ll receive a different reaction from audiences in Ely and Cambridge  compared to reactions so far, given the ties to the area?  

I’m really excited about what my local community will think, there’s references to East Anglian  folktales which they may pick up on quicker than other audiences. I’m curious about the emotional  weight from the references to flooding but I hope that the discussions surrounding the work invite  positive debate. It’s my love letter to The Fens and more than anything I hope they feel proud to  be highlighted for its rich history and beauty.