There is a natural intimacy with domestic plays that allows for an almost guilty feeling of involvement. Bedlam Theatre’s production of Mike Bartlett’s Albion goes one step further, as audience and stage are separated by a single row of flowerbeds. It is almost as if we become the garden that the play revolves around, the sacred Eden laid out in half a dozen rows of red seats. The cast digs around at our feet grappling for something lost in the soil that we cannot help them find. That something lost is how to deal with the death of a loved one, as the characters navigate the sudden death of their beloved James and its psychological repercussions. This is a slow and painful waltz with grief, as the lights dim and Elgar’s ‘For the Fallen’ echoes around Bedlam church, and both audience and actors take their places for this miserable dance.
Directed by Connor Quinn, the production is one of true devastation, Quinn’s mastery lying in his flawless choreography of raw human emotion. Quinn’s female characters are the deafening pulse beneath the production, their varied control of different aspects of the female experience the underlying genius behind Albion. Ellie Moore’s performance as the uptight Audrey, who manages her White Company-esque empire and useless but loveable husband Paul (Amiran Antadze) with the same dictatorial vigour, is a real delight to watch. Dealing with her son James’ death, Moore captures grief and motherhood all at once with tremendous agility and with a real sensitivity that pays homage to the cadence of Mike Bartlett’s script.
Moore dominates the stage with a truly unabashed confidence that is absolutely mesmerising.
Audrey meets her match in the grieving girlfriend Anna (Isabella Caron), and Caron’s haunting and unhinged performance acts as a wonderful contrast. Moore and Caron battle for the role of chief mourner, their relationship startlingly abrasive yet simultaneously intimate, as they mirror each other in their laments. Caron’s sirenic presence and piercing eye contact break through the calculated haughtiness of Moore, her grief a physical madness that overtakes and controls her entire body. Tazy Harrison-Moore’s choreography of the frenzied and insatiable lust between Anna and the deceased James (Nash Norgaard Morton) is bewitching. The lovers manipulate each other’s bodies in a truly superb, sensual dance, laced with madness and aggression, that is both uncomfortable and hypnotic to watch.
The sapphic subplot between the twenty-three-year-old daughter Zara (Orly Benn) and the elegant older writer Catherine (Anastasia Joyce) is enhanced further by Anastasia’s powerful, natural control of language. Joyce delivers every line with a compelling assurance befitting of this older laureate. In contrast, Orly Benn creates a surliness to Zara’s youthful arrogance that contrasts beautifully with the sophisticated Katherine, and we are left unsure if we are rooting for them or against them.
In this bucolic celebration of gardens, it is only apt that the gardener Matthew (Ted Ackery) himself sows some of the play’s most poignant lines. Ackery’s subtlety whilst playing a seemingly simple character, the pastoral figure amid the austere down-from-towners, unmasks the real importance of the garden. Matthew and his wife Cheryl (Olivia Martin) quietly suffer, in a manner that is almost as devastating as the death of James, as he loses his memory. Benny Harrison’s Gabriel, a local boy from the village is the play’s most redeeming character, and Harrison’s performance leaves the audience longing for a happy ending for this bumbling sweetheart. Gabriel, along with the docile Paul (Amiran Antadze) and the matter-of-fact Krystyna provide the much-needed comedic relief in this deeply devastating tragedy.
Carmen Harkness’ costumes are stunning, ranging from flapper dresses to grubby dungarees, and they capture the seasonal change that is so redolent in this pastoral scene. They complement Freya White/Emily Richards’ turf-covered set, complete with dozens of plant pots, which is certainly ambitious but pays off beautifully. Quinn’s direction of these grief-stricken souls is truly admirable. Not only does one feel completely transported back into a pastoral England that often lies forgotten, but he also leaves us with that true feeling of despair and catharsis that can be so often lost in tragedies. As the play ends, and the garden decays, the sense of finality is almost unbearable. The proximity of the audience to the actors is inexpressibly frustrating and creates a real sense of hopelessness that falls over us just as much as it does on stage.
Unapologetically bleak, it becomes overwhelmingly clear that whilst the garden may flourish again, the characters will not, as grief takes centre stage and smothers all.
Albion was on at Bedlam Theatre from 11th to 14th October
Image by Andrew Morris provided via Press Release