The clue is in the job title. Inspired by the works of Samuel Beckett, Abigail Browde and Michael Silverstone, aka 600 Highwaymen, refer to themselves as theatre artists.
The Record, one of nine pieces they have created since 2009, veers towards being a kinetic art installation, brought to life by 40-plus Bristolians of all ages, sizes and backgrounds. Theatre it certainly is too, but with more of an existentialist, minimalist approach that can, at times, be both hallucinatory and mesmerising.
The Record appears as part of the biannual Bristol International Festival organised by producers In Between Time (IBT). IBT works with artists across a range of genres to create unusual experiences for audiences, in venues that can range from established theatres to city streets, even forests. Their remit is to shake us awake with new and challenging work.
The Record is performed on an empty stage. A large pale square of cloth (a sail possibly) hangs from the ceiling above the boards and the space is flat-lit brightly. Composer and keyboardist Brandon Wolcott and cellist Emil Abramyan begin to layer compelling soundscapes that are sometimes abstract, sometimes punctuated with beat and percussive undercurrents, reminiscent of George Harrison’s sound track for Wonderwall.
A single woman stands centre-stage simply returning our gaze. After a while she strikes a new stance not unlike that of a toy plastic soldier in a frozen moment of action. Before long she is joined by others who in turn run or walk, stand close or far away from each other. At times one will fall back and be ‘caught’ by one standing behind.
Gradually, more and more ‘actors’ fill the stage. They mingle amongst themselves like a new dance class assembling for its first lesson. But there is something quite odd about the proceedings. In a voiceless and largely expressionless performance, there is clearly a directorial hand at work, as if the people we are seeing on stage are being controlled in a life-sized version of The Sims, where a mix of virtual people live out virtual lives, but in this case get no further than a few Tai-Chi moves, an occasional run, a bit of lying down, and leaning left and right. We are told that the ‘actors’ have never performed together on stage before the actual show, to which you have to say a very big “well done!” to those taking part. That there were no collisions or stumbles throughout an hour was impressive.
What does emanate from this patchwork quilt of all ages, sizes and shapes, is the sheer fascination with watching people – the sort of thing you can enjoy armed with a cappuccino sitting in the window of a coffee shop. Everyone ‘out there’ is busy with something, lives to lead, fates to endure or enjoy with or without others. And so it is with our Bristolian Pick-n-Mix on stage.
Browde and Silverstone have choreographed moments of both vulnerability and trust in this piece. With a group of ‘strangers’ needing to cooperate for the piece to succeed, they touch on the individual’s need to organise and survive within a span of other lives. Strangers on stage, strangers in the audience, we find ourselves contemplating each other as souls looking for connection. ★★★☆☆ Simon Bishop 10th February 2017
