The Outsider at the Print Room Coronet review ****

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The Outsider

Print Room Coronet, 19th September 2018

Tricky one this. I can’t pretend I was pinned back in my seat by the two and a half hours of Ben Okri’s adaptation of Albert Camus’ absurd existentialist classic written in 1942. Abbey Wright’s careful direction injects a little humour, (a dog is played by a mop and the trial scene is undercut with satire), but otherwise doesn’t take liberties with either Camus’ story or this intelligent text. The monochrome set, complete with multiple fans, and costume designs of Richard Hudson, bolster the sense of ennui. The Print Room dry ice machine gets yet another comprehensive work out. The plot, French Algerian bloke, bored at work as a clerk, can’t really get worked up about Mum’s death, finds girlfriend but can’t commit, gets involved with rum type neighbour, gets very hot, kills Algerian, is tried and condemned without really explaining himself, has its moments but isn’t going to pack them in at the Victoria Palace any time soon.

Yet this unhurried, unequivocal approach slowly and surely yields dividends assisted by an outstanding performance from Sam Frenchum. Now the Tourist got an inkling into of the talent of young Sam in the role of Hal in the Park Theatre’s excellent revival of Joe Orton’s Loot this time last year. Hal may not be the sharpest too in the box, so needs to be played dumb to get the laughs, but we need to see how his jealously of lover and criminal sidekick intensifies through the farce. That we got. Here though the young man, who is on stage throughout, rises up to a different challenge, gradually uncovering a man in Mersault, who reveals nothing. His delivery is deliberately monotone but far from mechanical. I expect him to go on to bigger things from here (actorally if not philosophically).

The pace gives the audience plenty of time to ruminate on what drives Mersault and why he is like he is. In the same way as the book. Ostensibly simple, almost banal, Mersault’s story yields pointed insight into the human condition, and specifically, the notion of alienation, of Mersault being a “stranger” or “outsider” to his own life and in the society around him. His utter indifference. Of course you might think it is a load of pretentious Gallic guff which only those who think too much and/or have too much time on their hands could possibly think is of any value. You might be right but I respectfully suggest you give it a go. After all you surely must have experienced the feeling of being utterly bemused by what is going on around you or unable to summon up apparently required emotions. Camus’ absurdist philosophy, his utter scepticism, is pretty bleak but it is ultimately truthfully humanist, even if it doesn’t always feel very human and can jar with post-modern sensibilities. It still needs to be understood though.

The book is written in the first person. Ben Okri has preserved that structure with Mersault speaking direct to audience in key passages to detail his experiences, perceptions, feelings, motivations, or more precisely lack thereof, whilst mixing this up with action across 13 speaking characters (and a few brave community locals). His first date with Marie Cardona (an innocently upbeat Vera Chok) on the beach, the murder, when he is alone in the cell and large parts of the courtroom scenes are straight narrative: the interactions with Raymond (an intimidating Sam Alexander), the undertaker and his defence lawyer (Josh Barrow moving swiftly on from his fine performance in The Silk Road at Trafalgar Studios), his boss and the prosecuting lawyer (David Carlyle) and the director and examining magistrate (Mark Penfold) are largely dialogue, though even here the sense that Mersault is at once removed from his own “reality” is palpable. Mind you he certainly “comes alive” when he violently rejects religion in the powerful scene with the chaplain (John Atterbury).

Mr Okri has preserved the minimalist quality of Camus’ text, or at least the translation I remember reading years ago, but still offers enough “colour” for Abbey Wright, lighting designer David Plater, sound designer Matt Regan and movement director Joyce Henderson to work with. Mind you he doesn’t quite scale the spartan heights of Robert Smith lyrics in The Cure’s early classic Killing An Arab.

If you do take the opportunity to see this production at the Print Room, there are a handful of tickets left, or if it pops up elsewhere, which it should, then don’t miss the accompanying short film by Mitra Tabrizian with text, in Arabic, once again from Ben Okri, which imagines events from the perspective of the Arab. Camus’ novel is discomforting in many ways, as was his principled ambivalence to Algerian independence, but giving a voice to the nameless Arab, here Mohamed Moulfath, (in the play Archie Backhouse), in a way similar to the 2014 novel The Mersault Investigation by Kamel Daoud, offers a valuable alternative perspective.

The Silk Road at Trafalgar Studios review ****

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The Silk Road

Trafalgar Studios 2, 23rd August 2018

The modern day Silk Road was the first major darknet marketplace, closed down in 2013 when the FBI arrested its alleged founder Ross Ulbricht and banged him up for life. I didn’t know that. As far as I was concerned it was the main trading route from West to East through near three millenia until the early 1700’s, (these trade deals can take an awfully long time to set up I fear). I am hoping my confusion poses no surprise to you.

Writer Alex Oates has taken the the modern-day Silk Road as the starting point for his pithy and vivid one-hander, ostensibly a plea for libertarian freedom in a digital world, in reality a sharply observed and very funny coming of age story about Geordie teenager Bruce Blakemore. That it succeeds as well as it does is down to an exhilaratingly dynamic performance by newcomer Josh Barrow. He commits everything, not just in his portrayal of loner Bruce, but in the sweet Nan whose knitting skills he ropes into his ingenious, if illegal, money-making scheme, memorably, the nightclub bouncer and dodgy owner Shaggy who are his, unwitting, accomplices as well as his posh girlfriend who kick starts his habit.

Josh Barrow slips in and out of the distinctive characters in the story, as well as narrating in the first person, at lightning speed. He doesn’t hang about either, constantly on the move in the tiny Trafalgar Studios 2 space. At one point an audience member is briefly press-ganged into the action but, throughout, the constant asides from young Mr Barrow means he engages with all of us. He has bags of charm, natural comic timing and surprising emotional depth. No doubt a lot of hard work went into this performance, along with director Dominic Shaw, but it flows effortlessly. I note that he is not the first actor to take on the role, James Baxter in 2014 in Edinburgh (funded by an anonymous Bitcoin donation it seems, proof that the comedy cryptocurrency can have some value), but I can’t imagine it topped this.

A one hander, coming it at less that an hour, probably didn’t justify the prices that Trafalgar Studios was looking for at the open but, when halved, it became a very attractive proposition. I know everyone involved deserves to be fairly rewarded for their work but I can’t help feeling more realistic pricing at the off would have dragged more punters in to see this excellent play and performance. The SO and I took in a matinee but I can’t help feeling there is a lot of opportunity for a slice of reasonably priced, straight to the point pre-dinner/drinks contemporary theatre in this fair metropolis and TS is perfectly positioned to do it. More like this please.