The Aide, a hunched figure with a white face and hallowed eyes clad in black with one high-heeled shoe, welcomes us to the feast. Her high-creaky voice and eager grin is curiously inviting. Before we can partake of the aperitif, she and the three cooks of their mistress, the Queen and through differing points of mood paints the picture of the world destroyed by an asteroid leaving the world without life and therefore without food. The Aide then explains the ‘artefacts’ on our plates: in the right hand we pick up asteroid ash and in the left distilled jewels of the Queen to a toast.
Next is a little game like musical chairs but is played with a crown as the Aide selects guests. A male guest is crowned and is ceremoniously brought along the table and into the blinding white light of the kitchen. Music plays and in the distance we hear the muffled sounds of a struggle, and few hacking chops, and then what sounds like blood gushing out into a bucket. The dinner preparation noises continue as the band plays whilst spurts of nervous laughter from around the table punctuate the festivities.
Finally, the Aide re-emerges, blood drips from her mouth and hands, with an impish grin. Let the feast begin! We’re served dessicated butter and coal bread with hearty stew. I timidly poke the bread and then bang it on my plate. After tearing it open and ripping off a piece, I decide that it is more than edible, it’s rather tasty. The servants bring out the stew in tin cans, dripping with blood. I start up a conversation with the people sitting next to me (a playwright and a dance critic) as we eat our meal, consciously ignoring the question of ‘what exactly are we eating?’ ‘Mmmm, murder,’ I say with a cheeky grin. Thankfully the red hued lighting is low enough to where we can’t really see the details of what’s inside the can. I really don’t want to look in it. Blanch & Shock created the food and apparently they specialize in fake blood.
For the pudding the Aide and the three cooks carry out a wooden coffin. We’re given pH 4.2, a chilled drink, as the servants scoop out chocolate cake soil with edible flowers into our hands. After everyone has finished their pudding, the Aide comes out for one last hurrah, ending with a joke.
The narrative was simple enough to bring us into this fictional world and was entirely structured around the meal. My main complaint is that the table/stage was so long that those of us at the end could barely see the cooks on the other end. Having watched a video of a past, more intimate, dinner setting I’ve realised that we missed a lot of the playful interaction the cooks and Aide engage in with the guests. Also having read past reviews of other renditions and earlier workshops, it seems the food was a bit more adventurous too. I understand the need to simplify things a bit for such a large venue but now I feel like I’ve missed out on something more compelling. I did enjoy what was presented, I eat all of my food, and enjoyed the company of those around me, but knowing what they’ve done with the piece before makes me long for a more intimate experience.
That being said, I could have watched the Aide (played by Nina Smith) all day. She had terrific presence and highly nuanced physical gestures, movements and even voice pitches.
The Baroque inspired setting worked well with the post-apocalyptic narrative. The underlying message of food, and more importantly were we get our food from come together beautifully both thematically and aesthetically. A common anxiety today is resources and that we’ll soon run out of them. As oil prices rise, so does the cost of food. More and more attention is being directed to food – where it comes from, how it’s produced, how it’s delivered and even how it is cooked. The farming of animals in under scrutiny as documentaries and books tackle the reprehensible treatment of animals: from injections of antibiotics, growth hormones and other drugs; to cramped, unsanitary living environment; to simply inhumane treatment. The industrialisation mentality of production has driven us to the machine-like treatment of animals and food. The simple question of ‘what would the world be like without food?’ is explored in an entertaining yet poignant way with Eat Your Heart Out. An exploration that could go even further, asking more questions along the way.
Civil Unrest was completely different in almost every way except for the whole eating food part.
The riot police began to antagonise us and “encouraged” us to push through again to the next section. Then we queued up for our slop of prison food, conveniently served in paper trays. The couple I stood next too wanted to play along so I joined them in heckling the police and coming up with clever chants. Then we discussed the difference between the group motivation at the protests and the group motivation of us at a theatrical event (having just discussed Teresa Brennan’s Transmission of Affect that day in class, it’s possible that I initiated this conversation.) After collection our trays of food we entered the mess hall comprising of two rows of tables and benches. Along the perimeter were benches for those who would be coming just for the play later on, and a rigged catwalk, which allowed guards to watch us from above. The table were covered in white tablecloths and each “inmate” was set with spoons and napkins as well as ‘Welcome to Prison’ notes detailing this fictional world in the near future where prisons are outsourced and prisoners are fed a gourmet meal.
I was a bit sceptical of the spoon as we were given beef, but as soon as I touched the meat with my spoon, it delicately fell apart. There was also an artichoke puree, roasted veggies, the most amazing brioche with a roll and for the pudding a delicious cheesecake mousse with poached pears and crumble topping. I ate. Every. Last. Morsel.
I had a pleasant conversation with my fellow inmates – the lady and gentleman I had been rowdy with out in the queue and another man and a female friend of his. We talked of theatre and politics, as well as food – we were all thoroughly enjoying our meal.
At the end of the meal, while the were removing the centre tables to open up the “stage” we were served a Courvoisier (a sponsor of Coming Up) cocktail. By this time the perimeter free benches were full of people – something that should have been acknowledged more during the meal but wasn’t.
Unrestless by Ben Ellis chronicles last year’s student protests through the three differing perspectives of siblings; Paul, the eldest, is a police officer; Amy, the middle child, works with students and is a major activist; Tony, the youngest, is apathetic towards both sides and is focused on finding a job to help deal with the dept left by their late parents. Director John Kachoyan utilised the entire space with actors running up and down aisle, traipsing over tables and standing above us on the catwalks.
In the spirit of full disclosure I must admit that I usually dislike political theatre. I find it didactic and often inhuman and lacking in depth. It’s evident that Ellis tried to avoid this by using the familial bonds as a structuring point. And although this helps in bringing a human and honest quality, it doesn’t quite suffice. I did, however, find the humour refreshing and the horse/we are all animals motif poetic (a motif that had great potential but needed more fleshing out). The play is entirely one sided and depicts the police (except for Paul) in an unflattering and ridiculously ignorant caricature. There’s one scene that really didn’t settle well with me. An officer talked about the beauty of destruction, and I was totally with him until he mention 9/11 and the twin towers. I didn’t find him quite so poetic after that, but rather heartless. I tend to stay away from political theatre because it is so invested in right now. So caught up in this very instant that it loses sight of the past and blocks its vision of the future. There’s no distance, no sense of mystery or evolution. The earnestness of it all totally turns me off. And the earnestness of this play is strongly felt, especially with protests still happening.
After the play there was a quick debate (I don’t remember their names but there was a lawyer, an MP and an human rights lawyer/activist). Although it was short, a few interesting points came up. The notion of a real life political drama and how each person plays their role in political protests came up. The use of language was also brought up and how reality is overlaid with lies, which are used in politics and social control.
Overall, I applaud creative director/producer Spike Laurie for the company’s ambition and thank them for taking a risk on this amalgamated theatricality. I think the entrance into the space, where we had to force our way through was a bold choice, but ultimately unsuccessful as the audience didn’t play the role of riotous mob but rather a group of theatre goers who were also hungry. Remember, we paid to be there. The expectation of us actively rioting was never alluded to in the promotion of the event. Not to mention, most people had drinks in their hands and no one wants to waste alcohol whilst playing “angry mob.”
As for the meal, I was under the impression that the free people would come in and essentially watch us (who paid the £25 for the meal) eat in this mock up prison of the future. The idea of outsourced prisons as a profitable enterprise is a fascinating idea in and of itself but its connection and importance to the overall conceit of the event is elusive.
There was so much happening over the course of the evening: an art/documentary exhibit; (timid) role play as rioters; an experimental meal; an environmental and politically charged play; and a debate. I think because this was the first night, things didn’t run as smoothly as possible, but I also think that’s because the creative team bit off more than they could chew. That being said, I’d rather have too much than none at all.
To my five followers: how about you? Have you been to dinner and a show where the dinner was the show? As usual, let me know your thoughts. Again, I'm writing an essay on the topic for my contemporary theatre class so any suggestions and thoughts are much appreciated.
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