Contemporary Dance Review: Coal at Nottingham Playhouse

photo: Joe Armitage

As the seats filled up, a woman (TC Howard) sat on stage peeling potatoes over a bucket. Immediate intrigue. Brass instrumentalists took their seats in a row at the back. Further intrigue. As the lights went down, the woman began to throw herself all over the table beside her, bashing around her pots and pans and letting out yelps, tiring over cleaning up. Her movement was brash and, with the brass band trumpeting away behind, it was hilarious, homely and warm at once.

As the woman began to help dress her partner, they entered a lovingly harsh dance before he went off to work. Suddenly, a bicycle on stage, big boot stomps of a march of camaraderie, and the men become a tight unit as the lighting helped transform their beige clobber into work gear – dungarees, white vest tops, and they were down the pits. Subtle movements with heads turned upwards transformed their scene beautifully, slickly, plummeting them into the darkness.

An arduous watch, the men blasted themselves from tight formations to scattered bodies, taking it in turns to enter the spotlight and throw themselves into workman movement, hitting down into the ground, reaching up, over, hunching their backs and pressing our unconscious into the underground. Shouts and looming, atmospheric soundscapes made for an uncomfortable, tiring watch – coupled with the smoke use and incredible lighting, it was difficult not to feel a part of the pit itself.

photo: Joe Armitage

Although the suffocating scene set left us gasping for fresh air, some could be found in the friendships between the men. They carried each other when they were sick, took the piss out of each other at lunch, loved each other dearly among the pure smog of a dark working day. All this, communicated with grunts, shouts and sometimes audible snippets of conversation, but mainly through the overt shifting of arms and legs, the sweat, the twisting torsos, flitting between synchronicity and an array of different movements, oozing the physical work they experienced together.

When we finally came out of a long, hard day down below, women cleaned the soot and sweat from the men with cloths and buckets, immediately lightening the mood. We travelled to raffles, working men’s clubs, and even got Blue Riband chocolate wafers handed out to us before the joy of a Friday night-esque disco dance saw some Lindy hop thrown into the mix – smiles all round.

Before we could settle into the merriment, Margaret Thatcher appeared to stop the fun. The cartoon-like, witchy, crazy clown lady cackled and shook her arse, jutting elbows into the ether, sticking her teeth out and laying down truly slimy, accusatory vibrations. All polished with high heels and a bushy head of hair.

Video footage of strikes, coupled with both the men and women’s red flag waving, told a clear story of protest, before a spoken word segment from our original pot basher had the audience howling. She told the tales of the women gathering together, making sure they all had enough to eat and their vehement delivery of defiance and power.

Again, when we were feeling a little more hopeful, Mags appeared once more, this time with a thick rope that she lay down at the front of the stage. The men and women stood in their couples before one man collapses onto the other side, crossing over onto Thatcher’s side. A drawn-out scene that challenged the tear ducts, with the women propping up the men, the men propping up the women, thuds to the floor, tense moments of near-abuse and tether-ends.

Eventually, every man fell to the floor, and when Margaret Thatcher finally left the stage, she kicked the one on her side away, leaving everyone behind in collapse.

A heavy mix of forms, with laughter, music and tears all thrown in. The video, dance, spoken word, and brass band all entwined into a layer of goose bumps well worth experiencing. The story of the pit closures has been captured both emotionally and physically in this piece – even for someone who doesn’t ordinarily attend contemporary dance shows, or even the theatre, it’s extremely accessible, at the same time as creating a window into a historically significant and devastating period for the British working classes.

Gary Clarke’s Coal was shown at Nottingham Playhouse on Monday 23 May as part of NEAT16

A second performance takes place tonight – Tuesday 24 May. Get tickets here.

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