Sabrina Mahfouz’s adaptation of Malorie Blackman’s young adult novel is an intricate yet accessible depiction of a racially divided world that might have been.
I don’t normally start a review with a spoiler warning, but if you’ve already decided to see this play and you don’t know about the Noughts and Crosses series, I advise you to stop reading now. Pilot Theatre advertised this play as tale of forbidden love in a world of racial tension, but they deliberately omitted one important bit of information about what sort of world this is. The revelation comes in the opening scene – it won’t spoil the scene, let alone the rest of the play, if you know what it is, but it’s better if you don’t.
However, a review of Noughts and Crosses that doesn’t tell you what the Noughts and Crosses are is like a review of The Matrix that doesn’t tell you what the Matrix is. I would not be possible to talk about the many merits of both the story and the adaptation without telling you what Pilot Theatre isn’t telling you; so, in the style of the news just before match of the day, if you want to find out in the play, look away now. Continue reading
The one thing that sticks in my mind about Pilot Theatre more than anything is their striking sets. Directors and writers change, but the projections and running treadmill in The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner and the concrete flats in The Season Ticket have always stuck in my mind. So I was expecting something striking for Brighton Rock, but the choice, in retrospect, was the obvious one: Brighton Pier – or, more accurately the West Pier, back in the days when it was still a pier. The girder-themed West Pier is the better choice here, because, as Pilot Theatre plays always do, this set will be representing a lot of different locations around gang-ridden 1930s Brighton.
An early example of the set put to use is the chase. Fred, having fallen out of favour with his own gang, keeps moving, trying to stay where people are watching, and even attempts an impromptu courting of Ida. Alas, Ida is too slow to twig what’s really happening, and the minute she spends away from Fred to powder her nose is the minute his gang move in for the kill. With young Pinkie installing himself as the new leader, he then covers his tracks, but a careless mistake make by Spicer leaves a witness, a waitress called Rose. Pinkie opts to court her, and if necessary, marry her so she legally cannot testify against him.* By now, however, Pinkie is up against Ida, determined to make it up to Fred, and determined to protect innocent Rose. But does anyone know what Rose really wants? Continue reading
Sometimes touching, sometimes brutal, The Season Ticket is a great four-way collaboration portraying lives on the fringe of society.
Could you assemble a better team? Lee Mattinson has already shown how skilled his writing is with Donna Disco and Chalet Lines. Pilot Theatre wowed us with one of the best staged plays ever with The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner. Northern Stage, of course, as an excellent track record of mainstream productions. And Purely Belter, the film adaptation already made of the book this is based on, is a cult classic in Newcastle. And yet seemingly surefire collaborations don’t always work out. Such high expectation can set up such bitter disappointments. But not here. The Season Ticket is every bit as good as I hoped it would be, and more.
Gary and Sewell are two young lads at the very bottom of the pile. Gary has a sister who is desperate to get her A-levels so that – it is quietly understated – she can get out and move on to a better life – Gary has given up on going to school, and best friend Sewell has seemingly given up in general ever since his father died. The two of them begin in the middle of an inept petty crime, looking for suitable luxury household appliances to burgle from their headmaster’s house. Perhaps, it’s suggested early on, it’s got something to do with Gary having a half-inattentive alcoholic mother. But it emerges that she, too, has her own reasons to give up, once it emerges what sort of person Gary’s father was and what he did to them. Continue reading
Pilot Theatre’s adaptation of Alan Stillitoe’s 1959 classic is a fine example of both writing and directing, but the biggest achievement of all is the stunning technical presentation.
When an earth-shattering news story shakes the entire nation, the whole nation reacts to it. Journalists fill up pages of newspaper, politicians work it into Conference speeches, and not wanting to be left out, play writers respond by writing gazillions of similar plays about it. Ever since August last year, the London Riots are all the rage, and so far we’ve probably had hits such as the modern gritty urban drama This is your Big Society Cameron, the modern gritty urban drama We Wuz Tired of Being Hassled by da Pigs Innit, and the modern gritty urban drama Concrete and Piss (okay, that last one is a fictitious title coined by Charlie Brooker, but I’m sure we’ll find a play with that name if we look hard enough). Now Pilot Theatre are weighing in with their stage adaptation of Alan Stillitoe’s classic short story, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner, transformed into a modern gritty urban drama about the London Riots. But don’t let this put you off – it’s good.
Roy Williams transplants this story from its original setting of a 1950s borstal to the present day. There is one overriding observation: you wouldn’t guess you were watching an adaptation if you didn’t know. It makes it look like the contemporary post-riot setting was how the story was written all along. But whilst many so-called adaptations butcher the originals, in this script the key events are the same. Colin Smith (Elliot Barnes-Worrell) is a young petty criminal doing time, discovered to be an extraordinary runner. The story takes place over the course of the run, flashing back to his time behind bars and the events that led him behind bars: his only caring relative, his father, dead from a terminal illness; a mother splashing out this insurance money on a new fancy man; choosing boring unemployment over boring menial jobs; and eventually arrest following a stupid attempt to rob a bakery. If he wins the race, the Governor will look good, and Colin will be set up for a glittering sports career when he gets out. Everybody wins, huh?