Author: birminghamreview

Writer Ed King / Photographers Ciaran Bagnall and Mark Senior (production), Kris Askey (publicity)

Written as a novel for the stage, John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men has been treading the boards since its release in 1937.

Now, over 85 years since you could first read or watch it, Steinbeck’s futile journey towards the American dream has made its way to the Birmingham Rep – directed by Iqbal Khan, back in the second city after his extraordinary Commonwealth Games 2022 opening ceremony.

But whilst Of Mice and Men is often cited as a literary classic, one of the books you know even if you’ve not read – studied in schools and classrooms across the world –  it has also been routinely criticised for its perceived brutality, misogyny, and racist content.

As late as 2021, the 30,000-word novella was No8 on the American Library Association list of banned books in the US, sandwiched by Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird and Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye.

Khan, however, takes the bull by the horns and sticks virtually verbatim to the original text – throwing in some new lines to give more depth to the only nameless character, Curley’s Wife, played superbly in this production by Maddy Hill.

The premise is simple: set in the Great Depression, in America, ranch workers George (Tom McCall) and Lennie (William Young) are heading to a new farm to buck barley wheat, having been chased out of their last town, and hoping to build enough money for a small homestead George dreams of one day owning.

Lennie dreams of tending rabbits, with a childlike obsession “to pet nice things with my fingers, sof’ things” which drives his character’s actions and ultimately delivers “another bad thing” that cements his downfall.

Everything about Lennie is childlike, apart from his stature and incredible strength – with the beginning of the narrative describing him killing mice just by petting them, and the clenched fist misunderstanding that saw them flee in the first place. And it only gets worse.

Set in a handful of locations, Ciaran Bagnall’s exquisite set – made from tall slats of broken timber, that shift like the fractured ambitions of the protagonists – is wonderfully effective. As are the shards of light that permeate each scene.

Music and song carry us from act to act, with the full cast appearing as an ensemble both lamenting the hardships of workers and their chased dreams keeping them at the grindstone.

The cast contains no weak links, with standout performances from the two central characters – George (Tom McCall) and Lennie (William Young) – and frighteningly real portrayals of 30’s America black/white divide through old ranch hand Candy (Lee Ravitz) and tolerated but segregated stable buck Crooks (Reece Pantry).

Again, a mention goes to Maddy Hill for her superb portrayal of the only female character, Curly’s Wife, who is browbeaten into loneliness by her jealous new husband – and both objectified and vilified by the all-male environment. And if those who voted to ban this book could see Hill’s representation of Steinbeck’s frustrated femme fatale, they might sleep a little easier at night.

But ultimately the story speaks for itself, and aside from some clever fringe decoration – such a beautiful display of metaphor and red velvet at the very start – Khan lets the literature stand on its own two feet.

Any additions arguably add weight or simply celebrate the theatrics of theatre, like Candy’s mangy puppet dog that mirrors so much of the play’s meaning.

It is also worth mentioning various characters are played by actors with ‘lived experience’ of their on-stage disabilities – including William Young/Lennie, who has Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum (ACC) and ‘complex learning difficulties’. The rest you can guess or Google.

Revising a role he first played in 2017, Young is excellent as the childlike mountain of a man who can, and does, crush every bone in a hand just by not letting go. Citing his ACC as a useful tool for “getting into Lennie’s mindset”, Young delivers a cracking character regardless – whilst at the same time hopefully both inspiring and challenging those who need either.

But the ultimate success of Iqbal Khan’s Of Mice and Men stage play is that it made me enjoy the book even more, bringing the hard-to-like characters off the page and into a world where I just about could.

George is mean, but I understand better why. Lennie is a danger, but I’m more endeared to him than frightened for him. Curley’s Wife now has much more of my sympathy, and the moment I have enough jack I’m taking Candy and Crooks into town for a shot.

And to underscore this point, I’ve started rereading the book – something you could probably do in less time than it takes to watch Khan’s production, and not a bad idea before heading in.

But watch the play too. After all, Of Mice and Men was always meant to be absorbed both onstage and off.

Of Mice and Men runs at the Birmingham Rep until 8 April, for more details and links to online ticket sales visit www.birmingham-rep.co.uk/whats-on/of-mice-and-men

For more from Birmingham Rep visit: www.birmingham-rep.co.uk

Writer Jimmy Dougan / Images courtesy of A24

What a hat trick for Irish cinema. In May of last year, we were treated to Colm Bairéad’s sublime The Quiet Girl followed by the mournful The Banshees of Inisherin in October.

Now comes God’s Creatures, one of my most anticipated films of the year. It’s a film wholly different from both and provides a challenging, if drawn-out, portrait of a mother in crisis.

Saela Davis and Anna Rose Holmer’s film begins with an unexpected arrival. But this guest is no stranger.

Aileen’s (Emily Watson) son has just reappeared, unannounced, after a long stint in Australia. Now he’s returned to the tiny fishing town in Kerry, but the big question is why? Brian (Paul Mescal) gives vague answers to any question posed, something which takes on dread-sinking significance as the film progresses.

While her husband Con (Declan Conlon) and daughter Erin (Toni O’Rourke) are rightfully wary, Aileen is delighted.

Aileen works as a shift manager in a dreary seafood processing plant but has an optimistic temperament, and has kept up the payments on Brian’s fishing licence. She’s even willing to commit theft to kickstart his career as an oyster farmer. When a police officer knocks one night and informs her of a sexual assault allegation against her son, Aileen doesn’t hesitate to be Brian’s alibi.

She barely takes a minute to consider the ramifications of what she’s doing. She and Brian were technically together, but they were at the local boozer and not at home as Brian claims.

After making her accusation, the victim Sarah (Aisling Franciosi) finds herself an outcast.

Director’s Davis and Holmer, and screenwriter Shane Crowley, aren’t interested in the inherent ambiguities and unfillable gaps of the assault. They avoid didactic moralising in favour of something far stranger and unsettling: one of the most fascinating things about this film is its provocative lack of interest in the how or the why of this assault.

Instead, it asks us to consider why Aileen does what she does – and her failure (or refusal?) to consider the genuine, very serious, ramifications of what she’s willing to do to protect Brian. We don’t see the assault. Davis and Holmer simply show us a view of the town at sunrise: this violence didn’t begin on the town’s pier, and nor will it end.

This violence affects everyone, and everyone is culpable for allowing this to happen.

None of these ideas would be worth much time if the film around them couldn’t match their complexity. Fortunately, Davis and Holmer imbue God’s Creatures with such poetic seriousness it’s impossible to look away. Mountains rise above the village like the rubble from some natural disaster, oyster racks stick out of the black waves like shipwreck splinters, and a lone tide marker looks like a skeletal arm.

It takes a quintessentially Irish idyll and renders it unwelcoming and uncanny. The red light above the pub window barely illuminates the night: what on Earth could lurk in the darkness?

For better and worse, God’s Creatures occasionally has the feel of a documentary. The processing plant Aileen works in is rendered with oppressive mundanity but the many sequences of oyster harvesting drag. It’s a feeling exacerbated by the thick accents and low-key, mumble-filled dialogue.

My family is Irish, but even I could’ve done with subtitles here.

That being said, it all coheres to paint the picture of a town seemingly untouched by aggressive modernism, out of time and out of place. It’s set in Kerry, yet Davis and Holmer treat this as a primal, timeless struggle. Their argument is a blunt one, we are all complicit.

The pace slackens in the middle but snaps back when the accusation is made, and the film leans into legitimate creepiness with Chayse Irvin’s eerie cinematography. There’s also a standout score from Danny Bensi and Saunder Jurriaans which screeches and thuds unexpectedly.

Mescal is frighteningly against-type here. He’s charming, but there’s always something a bit darker going on behind his eyes. He has an aura of violence about him, or rather the capability for violence. It gives later scenes a proper intensity.

Watson is typically affected by her desperation, even if Crowley’s script gives her little history or subtext to illuminate. Perhaps this is a conscious choice: she is nobody, so she could be any one of us. She and Mescal navigate a thrilling climax so drenched in symbol and allegory it’s outright folkloric.

The sea gives, the sea takes.

God’s Creatures – official trailer:

God’s Creatures will be screened at Mockingbird Cinema, at The Custard Factory, from 31 March to 6 April, and at the MAC in early April, with exact dates coming soon.

To read more about the BFI go to: www.bfi.org.uk/film-releases
To read more about A24 go to: www.a24films.com

To read more about Mockingbird Cinema go to: www.mockingbirdcinema.com

For full listings and links to online ticket sales visit: www.mockingbirdcinema.com/production/gods-creatures/ and www.macbirmingham.co.uk/whats-on/cinema

Writer Megan Treacy / Photographer Andrew Roberts

To walk into Hockley Social Club today is to find a den of warmth and invigorating sounds sheltered from the bleak white skies outside. Friendly dogs, upbeat music, and chatting  families contribute to a welcoming and relaxing Sunday atmosphere just outside of Birmingham City Centre.

Nestled a short venture within is the more intimate Artum space, which today hosts the work of Birmingham-based photographer and lecturer Ally Standing.

As I arrive, the tables are already substantially full and Standing is meandering between chairs to greet visitors. One unexpected sight is several chess matches at play alongside one wall, a sign that Checkmate! Birmingham have also occupied Artum this Sunday.

There is an undoubtedly relaxed feel to the exhibition; the photos are projected onto a single wall and play in a loop for its duration, allowing viewers to sit and watch the display or to return to look at the photos periodically as they enjoy friends’ company (or play chess).

The set-up of the moving projection simultaneously commands attention to Standing’s work while granting space for socialisation and discussion; as conversations are had, each cut of the screen attracts heads to see what the next photo will be.

The photos themselves are snapshots of predominantly urban environments, with Standing describing her practice as ‘psychogeographic’ — an exploration of the intersection between physical location and emotion or behaviour.

This element of her work certainly comes through as her images pass across Artum’s wall. Photos of spaces which hold the same emptiness don’t necessarily evoke the same emotions. Fluorescent lights reflected in the puddles of an abandoned car park make for an eerie and unsettling shot, whereas a vacant outdoor basketball court against a clear blue sky feels peaceful in contrast.

Among the exhibited photos are some familiar sights to Birmingham residents, whether that’s a white exterior recognisable from Minerva Works, an immortalisation of the now-demolished adult film cinema Taboo Cinema Club, or a less location-specific shot of fifty or so NOS canisters collected by a kerb.

A conversation with Standing reveals the worldwide scale of the locations featured in the exhibition’s shots, including Lisbon, Madrid, Wuhan, and Berlin.

Although sprawling in geographical span, the scenes and objects captured feel connected through Standing’s lens; moments of fantastic colour (a shot of an all-pink stairway stands out) or aesthetically satisfying composition (a diagonal roof cutting cleanly across the sky) feel like instances of beauty which might go unnoticed by another passerby.

Recurring also in the work is an eye for geometric forms, mainly those of urban buildings and structures, in their overall shape as well as in their smaller components.

A close-up shot of a Tetris-like window pane made up of small squares of obscured glass draws attention to its craftsmanship, highlighting for a moment an architectural detail which is probably passed daily without thought, the shape illuminated from within by warm yellow light as though spotlit for the camera.

Standing shares the photos exhibited are a mixture of DSLR, point-and-shoot, and iPhone shots, observing often the latter are her favourites since they are the most spontaneous — images captured unpredicted and without the expectation that a camera will be needed.

As the exhibition plays along, Artum remains steadily full of supporters for Standing’s artwork, among them being other Birmingham-based creatives such as Hannah Swingler, a poet with a debut collection published by Verve Poetry Press (‘This Dress Has Pockets’).

The afternoon is not only a show of wonderful art but of the fervently supportive nature of the Birmingham art scene, and the ever-lively and embracing atmosphere of Artum.

For more from Ally Standing go to: www.allystanding.com

For more from Hockley Social Club go to: www.hockleysocialclub.com
For more from Artum go to: www.instagram.com/artumbirmingham

 For more from Checkmate! Birmingham go to: www.checkmatebirmingham.com 
For Hannah Swingler’s book go to: www.hannahswings.com/this-dress-has-pockets