To say that there was audience participation would be to understate the proceedings. During the highly charged mayhem throughout, we were splattered with ‘shit’, (oh yes, the toilet scene lives up to its promise), found ourselves eye-level to exposed genitals, and in my own case, had my glasses tossed to the floor by a maddened Begbie and was later ordered to sniff ‘smack’ by Renton.
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There is a 60’s style house somewhere in Bristol that has somehow contrived to become a creative touchstone to all that live within its walls. With its large living room acting as a performance space, the inhabitants have begun to split off – musical atoms forming highly original acts of no particular genre.
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With a multitude of scenes to get through, not once did this ensemble falter with their entrances, exits or with their words. But that would be to patronise them. Never mind getting the basics right, this went way beyond – this was terrific acting and stage craft, an absolute credit to all those involved with this admirable outreach project.
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This was as joyful a theatrical experience as one could wish for. Performed outside on Brandon Hill’s verdant and tree-lined slopes, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men played to a crowd of several hundred, who drifted away into the summer night afterwards with warm smiles on their faces . . . this was timeless Elizabethan theatre at its best.
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Eclectic, crazy, moody, intense, personal, funny, faltering and finally formidable… the music cooperative Bloom was all this in yet another mini triumph for The Wardrobe Theatre, who seem hardwired to find and reveal risk-taking artists in this wonderfully creative city . . .
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