rhythmaning (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rhythmaning) wrote2007-04-21 11:07 pm
rhythmaning) wrote2007-04-21 11:07 pm
"Black Watch"
I went across to Glasgow to see a play this afternoon. I very nearly didn’t go; I had bought a ticket during the week – and I very nearly didn’t do that, since the tickets were £20 each, and of course I had to get across to the west coast. But a friend of mine raved about the play when she saw it in the Fringe last year – it won a fringe first – and she had told me it was the best thing she had seen in many years; she is a drama teacher and watches many, many more plays than I do – last time I went to the theatre was six months ago – so I took her word for it.
I am glad I did. It was brilliant. The best play I had seen in years.
Called “Black Watch”, and produced by the National Theatre of Scotland (as was the last play I saw), it was put on at the Old Fruitmarket – not really a theatre at all. I am familiar with the Old Fruitmarket since it is where many of the gigs in the Glasgow jazz festival are put on. It is a big space, a road – yes, a road to take the lorries that once upon a time carried fruit to and from the market (and the road still has double yellow lines on it) – a road down the middle, a large balcony, and signs proclaiming the old market traders and their speciality.
NTS made this space their own: from the moment I entered – through plastic flaps onto which were beaming lights projecting the saltire (the Scots flag), which was also broadcast on four TVs around the hall – it was into a drama. There were no actors on the set at that point, just the audience. Spotlights swept the arena, momentarily blinding the audience as we sat. Military pipe and drum music poured from the sound system.
And then it exploded into the play.
The Black Watch is – was – one of the old Scottish army regiments, recently, or planned to be, amalgamated into a single army unit under a reorganisation of the army. The play, set in a bar in Scotland (Fife, I think, but I could be wrong) and Iraq – with bits set back in history, too, told the story of the regiment, through the eyes of a pack of squadies, their sergeant and an officer. The set was minimal – just some chairs, a pool table (which rather wonderfully was used as an armoured vehicle, a shelter, a grave; oh, and a pool table), a couple of scaffolding towers. They made great use of the space – so much so that it is hard to see how it could tour, as it is. In Edinburgh, it was at the Traverse, a much smaller space – it must have made a different experience, because in the Old Fruitmarket they used all the space possible, and very imaginatively.
The scenes in the pub had the soldiers explaining how they felt about fighting and being in Iraq to a writer researching a play; the sections in Iraq acting it out. They quickly moved between the two, the actors taking multiple roles – it was fascinating to see the actor who played the writer – a rather wimpy, soft character, awed by the soldiers he was bribing with booze to tell their stories – change into the sergeant, hard and uncompromising.
Punctuated by explosions – sound and light (and each one made me jump – and not just me – even when they were expected) – the actors conveyed as much through their movement as their words; there were long passages when they were silent, miming their letters from home or marching – a lot of marching. The silent passages were poignant.
There were a lot of songs, too: pub songs, regimental songs; a soundtrack running through much of the play (its absence emphasising the silences) added greatly – sound, lights, set and acting came together, making the whole totally effective.
It was riveting: two hours passed quickly – no interval to remove the magic. It was moving, emotional, intense; it was very funny, and sad. It was brilliant.
The climax was predictable, but still very shocking – and superbly, horrifyingly portrayed.
Just brilliant. The audience gave the cast a standing ovation; I think it was out of respect for the soldiers and what they have been going through as much as the actors.
The play’s website - Black Watch - there is a page of production photographs, too.
And here’s what some critics thought about the play.
I am glad I did. It was brilliant. The best play I had seen in years.
Called “Black Watch”, and produced by the National Theatre of Scotland (as was the last play I saw), it was put on at the Old Fruitmarket – not really a theatre at all. I am familiar with the Old Fruitmarket since it is where many of the gigs in the Glasgow jazz festival are put on. It is a big space, a road – yes, a road to take the lorries that once upon a time carried fruit to and from the market (and the road still has double yellow lines on it) – a road down the middle, a large balcony, and signs proclaiming the old market traders and their speciality.
NTS made this space their own: from the moment I entered – through plastic flaps onto which were beaming lights projecting the saltire (the Scots flag), which was also broadcast on four TVs around the hall – it was into a drama. There were no actors on the set at that point, just the audience. Spotlights swept the arena, momentarily blinding the audience as we sat. Military pipe and drum music poured from the sound system.
And then it exploded into the play.
The Black Watch is – was – one of the old Scottish army regiments, recently, or planned to be, amalgamated into a single army unit under a reorganisation of the army. The play, set in a bar in Scotland (Fife, I think, but I could be wrong) and Iraq – with bits set back in history, too, told the story of the regiment, through the eyes of a pack of squadies, their sergeant and an officer. The set was minimal – just some chairs, a pool table (which rather wonderfully was used as an armoured vehicle, a shelter, a grave; oh, and a pool table), a couple of scaffolding towers. They made great use of the space – so much so that it is hard to see how it could tour, as it is. In Edinburgh, it was at the Traverse, a much smaller space – it must have made a different experience, because in the Old Fruitmarket they used all the space possible, and very imaginatively.
The scenes in the pub had the soldiers explaining how they felt about fighting and being in Iraq to a writer researching a play; the sections in Iraq acting it out. They quickly moved between the two, the actors taking multiple roles – it was fascinating to see the actor who played the writer – a rather wimpy, soft character, awed by the soldiers he was bribing with booze to tell their stories – change into the sergeant, hard and uncompromising.
Punctuated by explosions – sound and light (and each one made me jump – and not just me – even when they were expected) – the actors conveyed as much through their movement as their words; there were long passages when they were silent, miming their letters from home or marching – a lot of marching. The silent passages were poignant.
There were a lot of songs, too: pub songs, regimental songs; a soundtrack running through much of the play (its absence emphasising the silences) added greatly – sound, lights, set and acting came together, making the whole totally effective.
It was riveting: two hours passed quickly – no interval to remove the magic. It was moving, emotional, intense; it was very funny, and sad. It was brilliant.
The climax was predictable, but still very shocking – and superbly, horrifyingly portrayed.
Just brilliant. The audience gave the cast a standing ovation; I think it was out of respect for the soldiers and what they have been going through as much as the actors.
The play’s website - Black Watch - there is a page of production photographs, too.
And here’s what some critics thought about the play.