Talking Heads

I didn't visit the Theatre Royal Nottingham to talk to anybody.  I was there for a strict version of nosiness.  The Talking Heads tour was making a brief stop featuring 3 of the 12 monologues written by Alan Bennett for presentation on television in the eighties. This production featured Siobhan Redmond in 'Lady of Letters', Karl Theobald in 'A Chip in the Sugar' and 'A Cream Cracker Under the Settee' with Stephanie Cole.

As social creatures, it is a privilege to be able to get an insight into others world any way that we can.  We view Social Media streams, likes and status pages in order to validate our opinion of somebody.  Talking to people is becoming so passe, especially over the garden fence to one's neighbour.  So this early September opportunity to garner more about people that I don't often fraternise with through director, Sarah Esdaile's  interpretation of the Talking Heads monologues was my main concern.  I mean, narrative monologues are about what is happening from a particular perspective.  Imagine being able to get inside Kanye Wests head?

Three of the monologues were presented on a set design (Francis O'Connor) which continued the theme of perspectives, taking me back to my drawing board and set square youth of my eighties education.  Slightly tweaked for each story, the cumulonimbus-clouds-in-blue-sky themed set was sparse as opposed to the kitchen sink ordinariness of the tales being spoken.  The sound design (Mic Pool) played out to build a sense of the breakdown in human condition in each piece.  All of this was necessary for my engagement, as I was intrigued as to how the television version which I had studied briefly in part, over twenty years ago, could be adapted to the stage.

During the first interval between set changes I wondered why we were presented with an epilogue with Miss Riddick (Siobhan).  This  ruined it for me slightly as she was now a happy amongst friends in an unfortunate circumstance of her own doing.  It wasn't until I was reminded by an audience member that they did not visit the theatre often that I concluded that perhaps Mr Bennett was closing the circle in the story cycle to bring his perspective, not Miss Riddick's, into sharp focus.  To be sure that the audience got it.  Got the relevance.

On its own, the overall delivery of the monologues in this production would not have worked as well.  Each tale brings life's problems around mental health, child loss, and how we cheat or sabotage ourselves into our domain with some smoothly timed lines with black comedic value.  However, the risk was not present in the performance.   This production managed to combine the layers of music and set design to provide the mind bending construction of the human condition.   But I couldn't help trying to compare this to the television version which cleverly employed the minimal use of camera angles and close ups to add tension to the sinister normality of the monologues.

As one of a handful of Black-British people in the audience, I found myself smiling whenever references were made to people of colour.  At one point in 'A Chip in the Sugar', Graham (Karl) speaks sardonically about his mum making reference to how his politics was not about the failure of government, but was due to the blacks in the country.  The audience tutted collectively at this.  I smiled as Mr Bennett's writing is set in Yorkshire, where in the eighties such observations were based on population and not having a diversity of neighbours like in such places like Filey.   In Nottingham today, not so true.  Graham's demeanor at this point however, was to roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders at his mothers very outdated or politically incorrect statements.

In the second interval between set changes I was told that the final piece with Stephanie Cole was going to have a sad ending.  There was a gasp from the audience when her leg slipped and we all imagined our elderly mothers and nans having a fall and wanting to be there to catch her.  I smiled again, as I can tell that in the main, we as a caring audience could relate to the situation that Doris (Stephanie) found herself in.  However, would not be so strong-minded to force ourselves to want to die in isolation to avoid a care home with 'neighbours who would smell of pee' - or would we?  So, Doris' story was half relevant today - and half not.

All we need is a little bit of communication to get along in society and break barriers.  It's all about perspective.  Perspectives that we invariably fail to view, because we are always consumed with our own.  Unless, we are into the latest trend of incorporating 'mindfulness techniques'.  By the time the audience left the Theatre Royal Nottingham, we were once again a communicating microcosm of society.  I left the theatre with rotating idioms in my head, feeling like one woman's pen is another person's sword.

Talking Heads by Alan Bennett plays at Nottingham's Theatre Royal until Saturday 5th September.