Running from Wednesday 20th to Saturday 30th December, The Old Joint Stock Theatre will present Skellig, their family- friendly Christmas show produced in association with Tin Robot Theatre.
Skelligwill run daily at The Old Joint Stock Theatre, except on Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Doors will open at 7pm for all evening shows, with 2pm matinees on 23rd, 24th, 28th and 30th Dec. Tickets are priced at £16 for all performances – for direct event info and online ticket sales, click here.
For their latest endeavour, The Old Joint Stock Theatre and Tin Robot Theatre will be bringing to life David Almond’s much-loved story, Skellig, for the Christmas period. Skellig has fostered numerous productions and is particularly malleable source material due to its ambiguity of meaning and richness of allusion – adaptations can emphasise facets of the original work and build on them in their own way.
A mainstay of secondary school English lessons, Skellig tells the story of a young boy called Michael who, when his younger sister falls ill after moving to a new house, stumbles into the ramshackle garage of his new home where he inadvertently discovers a magical creature, Skellig.
In uncertain times, Michael finds hope and a sense of belonging when he begins to look after the unknown creature. Along the way the story offers meditations on numerous subjects, prompting you down avenues of thought but always leaving elements open to interpretation and the imagination of the audience or director. This is true even as far as Skellig himself; his true nature is not fully determined by the end of the story. It is exciting, therefore, to see Skellig get the Tin Robot treatment.
In Tin Robot Theatre’s own words from their website: ‘We believe in story, and champion the stories of Others; our work has focused on identity (in its many guises), its construction, and relation to popular and dominant culture. We make “full-fat” theatre. We believe in theatre as an experience beginning the moment the audience arrives, transforming space and bringing our distinctive visual style to breathe new life into the familiar.’
With their claustrophobic apocalypse, The War of the Worlds, having only just run its current course, Skellig offers a similar opportunity for Tin Robot Theatre to make their own mark on a classic. What threads will they choose to pull on, and how will their take on Skellig develop?
Skellig runs the The Old Joint Stock Theatre from 20-30th December. For direct details, including show times and online ticket sales, click here.
Words by Eleanor Sutcliffe / Pics courtesy of Warner Music
Fresh from the release of their latest album How Did We Get So Dark?, Royal Blood will be playing at Arena Birmingham on Saturday 18th November, with support coming in the form of Texan rockers At The Drive In and Brighton’s indie four piece, Black Honey.
Doors open at 5:30pm, with tickets priced at £22.90 (plus bf) as presented by SJM Concerts/Gigs and Tours. For direct gig information, including full set times, venue details and online ticket sales, click here.
It’s been an exciting year for Royal Blood. On the release of How Did We Get So Dark?, tracks such as ‘Hook, Line and Sinker’ and ‘Lights Out’ tore the UK charts apart earlier this year. The album itself reached No1 in the UK album charts – unsurprising, really, for a band who’ve been dubbed by critics from NME to The Telegraph as the next biggest thing in British rock.
Hailing originally from Brighton, the band have steadily been on the rise since the release of their debut single Out of The Black in 2013. From this, they scored several high profile shows including supporting the Arctic Monkeys in Finsbury Park, and later scooped a nomination for the BBC Sound of 2014 award.
It’s not hard to see why Royal Blood have become such a popular choice over the past few years. Their style is reminiscent of old garage rock, but they produce a heck of a lot of sound for just two people.
Royal Blood‘s vocalist, Mike Kerr, shunned a guitar, settling for a bass passed through an octave pedal that produces two signals, one of which heads to a bass amp and the other which runs to a guitar amp. This creates a sound so large and thunderous that it’s hard to believe that there’s not a full band behind the scenes. But that’s the sheer charm of this duo – their sound isn’t just big in the sense that they are a two piece, but it’s big enough to rival that of any other band.
With the 10 date Royal Blood UK tour beginning at the Manchester Arena on Thursday 16th November, and ending in their home town of Brighton on 29th November, the stakes are high for this duo. And with nearly a sold out Arena awaiting them in Birmingham, I can only begin to imagine the reception they will receive when they land in the city on Saturday night.
Beaten leather jackets, faded skinny jeans, slightly greying hair and classic rock band tees… a seasoned crowd of music fans are with me at the O2 Academy to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (BMRC).
Formed in 1998, the San Francisco trio have anchored themselves as one of the Noughties’ most memorable rock bands, with a die-hard fanbase to boot. Traversing classic hard rock, blues, post punk and anything else from the grimier underbelly of rock, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are a band who are proud to stick to their guns. While their contemporaries favoured disco beats and New Romantic candour back in 2005, they couldn’t cut through BRMC’s distortion and bluster. This is probably why the band are still going strong and touring in support of their upcoming eighth studio album, Wrong Creatures.
With their history in mind, it makes perfect sense for the opening act to be Restavrant, a rare breed of a band borne from the Los Angeles scene by two blues fanatics hailing from the Deep South. Restavrant come to Birmingham trucker capped, plaid clad and ready to bring the Texan heat to the stage. From the first song, the energy borders on dangerous when drummer Tyler Whiteside’s makeshift cymbals splinter from his strikes. What follows is an intoxicating blend of DIY punk and old school blues, but far more earnest than you would come to expect from an LA scene of poseur rock.
The creativity of Restavrant shines brightest for their half hour in the spotlight. Self-taught and unrestricted by traditional rock band set-ups, neither band member sticks to the beaten path in their playing techniques. Guitarist, Troy Murrah, is incapable of playing in a traditional style for more than two minutes, attacking the fretboard from almost every angle physically possible and showing the diversity of 16-bar blues with every song. Whiteside’s unorthodox kit, complete with an electronic pad, a suitcase for a kick drum and various other scraps of metal as percussion, is a perfect example of how this band infuse their Southern roots into their craft.
There isn’t much room for any respite or reflection in this stormer of a set, but Restavrant aren’t pretending to strive for anything beyond purely guttural rock, nor would you want them to. In a genre currently suffering under the rise of hip-hop and a trend towards minimalism and softness, Restavrant show determination to bring rock n’ roll back to its former glory, even if only for half an hour.
What follows from the main act of the evening doesn’t really match the pace or excitement that Restavrant incite within the crowd. I’m not expecting Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to have a full-throttle set for 90-plus minutes, but the 24-song set starts to drag from ‘Beat The Devil’s Tattoo’ onwards. I don’t want to suggest an experienced live band could sound amateurish, but it wouldn’t be unfair to suspect that tonight Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are suffering from sound engineering problems. There’s no emphasis on any harsh or soft moments, or indeed barely any change in dynamic at all from song to song. The guitars start to bleed into a drone that is hard to distinguish, save a few recognisable riffs; the issue is so prevalent that I didn’t realise they were covering Tom Petty’s ‘It’s Good to Be King’ until around a minute into the track.
Sound issues aside, I get the feeling that BRMC are aware of their longevity and find comfort in it rather than a challenge. There is definite fan service being paid, with the hardcore faction of the crowd clearly enjoying every second. For anyone else with a slightly more casual appreciation however, it’s a tough set to sink into. As a band famed for their live abilities, tonight Black Rebel Motorcycle Club aren’t quite delivering what they are known for during a live show. They remain mostly static, crowd interaction is minimal, and any playfulness with songs they’ve been entertaining with for years is hard to come by.
Drummer, Leah Shapiro, holds the fort perfectly as the rhythmic core of the group but seems almost bored of her role, rarely breaking away from the studio versions even though she definitely has scope and ability to. The stark, primary-colour lighting and moody smoke effects are reminiscent of early Interpol shows done as a gimmick. All in all, the set is unfortunately nondescript.
Their two biggest singles to date – ‘Spread Your Love’ and ‘Whatever Happened to My Rock and Roll’ – are unsurprisingly left till last. Frustratingly, it’s only now that the band come alive; a few plastic pint cups start to bounce off the crowd’s increasing undulation. Levon Been shows a little rowdiness and whips up the front row into a frenzy. After an hour of sleepwalking through their hits, all of a sudden it starts to resemble a rock show, albeit too late for me.
But there are brief moments of magic from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club tonight. ‘Ain’t No Easy Way’, ‘Stop’ and ‘666 Conducer’ are able to break through the onset ennui. Peter Heyes’ solo take on ‘Devil’s Waitin’’ is also impressive.
I leave the O2 Academy with no less respect for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club but a little deflated, having been pumped up with high expectations. I will make sure I give Wrong Creatures a listen upon its release, and my lingering hope is that the next time BRMC make a live outing the quality of the performance matches the undeniable quality of their back-catalogue.
Restavrant – supporting Black Rebel Motorcycle Club @ O2 Academy 28.10.17 / Phil Drury – Birmingham Review
On Saturday 28th October, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club ride through Birmingham – coming to the O2 Academy as part of their nine date UK tour (plus one in Dublin).
Doors open at 7pm, with tickets priced at £28.65 (including booking fee) – as presented by SJM Concerts/Gigs and Tours. For direct gig info, including venue details and online tickets sales, click here.
Responsible for one of the best debut albums ever… yep, I went there… Black Rebel Motorcycle Club have been tearing up the asphalt on both sides of the pond (and beyond) since 1998. Some call them ‘shoegaze’, some all them ‘grunge’, some call them ‘garage rock’, but Black Rebel Motorcycle Club have a distinctive twisted metal sound that they can comfortable call their own. ‘Fucking awesome’ is where I personally land, but with well over 200,000 words in the English language I’m sure you can come up with a more erudite description. Or you could just listen.
Globetrotting with a new album in the wings, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are coming to Birmingham to push their impending new album – Wrong Creatures, which will, apparently, possibly, be with us just after Christmas.
But having waited half a decade since their last LP, the 12 track monster that is Specter at the Feast, a few months here or there won’t bite down too hard. At least I’ll have something to spend those iTunes vouchers on, that will no doubt appear in some relative’s Hallmark hug this December (…other online music downloads are available).
Having recorded and released on their own imprint since 2008 (starting with the download only The Effects of 333) Black Rebel Motorcycle Club have been able to reinvent and reiterate all the cogs in their machine, drifting from the Native American rhythms of ‘Beat the Devil’s Tattoo’, passing through the dark rock heart of ‘War Machine’ and ‘Teenage Disease’, to stand still at the morbid curiosity of ‘Fire Walker’. Awesome. Relentless. Lots of other words; 24rs spent ploughing through this band’s back catalogue would not be a day wasted. Even if you’re wasted.
Now there’s another album in the offing too, and whilst we don’t know much about Wrong Creatures here’s a little taste of what’s to come… and yeah, that’ll do. The rest we’ll get to see/hear coming off stage at the O2 Academy on Say 28th October.
‘Little Thing Gone Wild’ – Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Daphne was screened in Birmingham as part of the Flatpack: Assemble project, bringing industry showcases to the city. Daphne will be further screened to the general public at mac from Friday 13th to Thursday 19th October – for direct information, including showtimes, venue details and online ticket sales, click here.
The amorphous structure of Peter Mackie Burns’ feature-length directorial debut perhaps owes something to its origins in a 2013 11-minute short, Happy Birthday to Me. But there’s something oddly compelling about Daphne’s resistance to following cinematic convention, as though, much like its title character, it refuses to be pinned down and made to stick to a single, clearly defined course.
Cinematography by Adam Scarth feels as restless and detached as its subject, both moving passively from one scene to the next, apparently without much sense of where they’re going. And though some inevitably will, viewers aren’t asked to sit in judgement on the character or her story but merely to observe it.
Self-obsessed, single and spiraling steadily out of control, the misanthropic Daphne is almost as unlikely a ‘hero’ as you could imagine. Though she makes a show of independence, her spikiness is little more than a mask for her unwillingness or inability to take control of the life through which she drifts, instinctively ducking out of any encounter where she detects a whiff of change or serious commitment. Because she hasn’t thought of anything better to do yet, Daphne continues to meet up with old school friends she doesn’t really like, stumbles around in a drunken, drug-fueled haze, lives off takeaways she’s forgotten that she ordered and occasionally hooks up with strange men in whom she has no interest.
But when she witnesses a stabbing in a corner shop and stays to save the victim’s life, well… not much changes, actually. After the event, she takes up the offer of counselling, but not because she’s feeling particularly traumatised by what she’s witnessed. In fact, it’s the complete lack of an impact the incident has on her that makes her acknowledge that perhaps there’s something up. As she says to the therapist in a moment of uncharacteristic honesty, “I haven’t felt alive in a long time.”
In conversations around the film, there’s been a lot of emphasis on Daphne’s gender, whether in the form of comparisons with BBC Three’s Fleabag or in accusations of misogyny levelled at critics passing comment on her ‘likeability’. But while Daphne might be part of a new wave of women in film depicted with more unflinching honesty than we’re accustomed to, she’s certainly not the sort of character who’d see herself as any sort of feminist trailblazer. In fact, she largely fails to see herself as anything very much at all.
Arguably it’s this that makes her seem so resonantly real, but perhaps also is at the root of her sometimes being such uneasy company. Though Daphne’s dialogue is often cutting and she is someone who manifestly refuses to give a shit what anyone else things of her, it’s not so much anything she actively says or does that makes her difficult as it is her total inertia. It’s hard to decide what to make of someone who so clearly doesn’t know what to make of herself. This fragmented sense of self is visually indicated from the off, with a striking image of her descending an escalator beside a wall of mirrored strips that dramatically shatter her shifting reflection. That said, Daphne is so far from being unloveable that a bouncer who kicks her out of a club where she’s been misbehaving is enamoured enough to chase her down, ask her out and then decline her knee-jerk offer of casual sex in favour of pursuing something more meaningful. We see, too, that her friends and family are willing – determined even – to put up with her and remain in her life despite her self-destructive attempts to push them all away.
But quite apart from how her fellow characters respond to her, if you’re intellectually smug enough to laugh at her declaring Slavoj Žižek a “doughnut” as she chucks aside a book that she’s been reading just for fun; or at her revelation that she always thinks of Freud when doing coke, (and let’s face it, if you’re watching this film, you probably are) it’s almost difficult not to find her rather charming, spikiness et al. Then there are her magnificent, enviably spontaneous put-downs. “You, sir, are a fabulous cunt,” she says to bouncer David as she staggers away from him.
Daphne also breaks the mould of the gritty, social realist style of cinema it adopts. Rather than focusing on the disenfranchised working class such films are usually designed to champion, Mackie Burns singles out a member of the expanding modern-day precariat as his protagonist. As a well-educated and possibly once fairly well-off 31-year-old (when she remembers), she could serve as a sort of cipher for the instability and disillusionment of the millennial generation, promised a seat at the feast but fast discovering she’s been left with only table scraps.
At the same time, there are hints that she’s merely treading water above a darker underbelly of urban life, which threatens to flood into her world at any moment. For one thing, there’s the homeless man on the corner she knows by name, and for whom she makes up sandwiches at work. Then of course, there’s the lad who panics and stabs the owner of the shop he’s trying to rob in front of her. He tries to rob Daphne too, but tellingly she’s got nothing on her person he deems worth stealing.
Daphne doesn’t give us any easy answers, but the clues to the residual sense of self the title character still possesses are there to hunt for, littered through the story like a trail of breadcrumbs or scrapped leftovers from whatever concoction she’s been devising in the kitchen. On one level, the film might be considered a dark romantic comedy that comes in too late to fully flesh out one affair, and finishes too early to allow the next to blossom. But perhaps surprisingly, Daphne isn’t entirely without ambition: at the restaurant where she works, she asks chef Joe to make her his sous, only to be dismissed completely out of hand (“It’ll ruin your life”) and not for the first time, it seems. She’s clearly interested enough in the idea to spend her free-time testing recipes at home, admittedly only to wrinkle her nose and bin the lot, but the drive is still there. That she doesn’t press the matter further is mostly due to her complicated relationship with the chef himself, a married man with whom she’s clearly mutually in love.
Unsure how to deal with those feelings, she seeks solace in meaningless sex, while holding potential boyfriend David at arms length. Her view of love, as a deluded human attempt to impose meaning on a random universe, is reiterated often enough to sound as though she’s trying to convince herself, and when David calls her bluff on it he unexpectedly exposes real vulnerability – Daphne suddenly flees the scene like a frightened rabbit. Blink and you might miss it, but it’s also her serious decision to quit the job after Joe ‘fesses up his feelings that heralds the beginning of possible change on the horizon.
Meanwhile, she’s also determined to alienate herself from the one reliable figure in her life; having refused chemotherapy for an aggressive cancer, her mum has instead discovered faith and mindfulness, something which naturally frustrates her daughter. Then there’s the fear and self-doubt Daphne is contending with – in particular, her anxiety over not feeling enough about the man she saved to go and visit him. It takes her therapist to suggest that perhaps just doing something is sufficient, and enough of a feeling might well follow after.
Emily Beecham’s skill is in being able to subtly convey all this, without really saying a great deal that’s to the point. Scriptwriter Nico Mensinga’s razor sharp, bone dry dialogue is hilarious but also constantly evasive – it’s down to Beecham to present the character’s pain without ever soliciting our pity. The performance is at once distant and intimate, cold and moving, laugh-out-loud funny and rather tragic. Daphne lives and breathes through Beecham, lingering on in the mind long after the credits finish rolling, so much that you almost expect to meet up with her in your local pub, or maybe on the train back home.
Emily Beecham is backed up by a strong supporting cast as well, with Geraldine James as her surprisingly vivacious, terminally ill mum, Nathaniel Martello-White as a cheerily optimistic David, and Tom Vaughan-Lawlor as Daphne’s jaded boss and soulmate Joe, who similarly can’t quite work out how his life has ended up like this.
The unsung fifth main character in the film is London itself – a suitably messy and complex companion for Daphne, one vividly captured by Scarth. At times, the camera hones in on the squalor of poverty in England’s capital; at others, it hovers in a sky filled with gleaming clouds and glistening skyscrapers reaching out for something more. The film showcases the rich diversity of London with all its teeming masses, as well as the profound loneliness and anonymity of living there. One particularly striking, slightly hazy birdseye view has the cold, unsympathetic eye of CCTV surveillance, with Daphne staggering past faceless crowds and traffic blurs to create a dizzying, disorienting effect.
Refreshingly then, Daphne is a film that actively resists the conventional cinematic trope of turning points and inciting incidents that change a character’s life for good, instead preferring to just let stuff happen. In real life, epiphanies are generally a long time coming, even if we tend to remember them otherwise after the fact.
Like Daphne herself, the audience is required to sift through the mundane paraphernalia of everyday existence to find the meaning underneath, if indeed there is any. It might not fall in line with standard storytelling techniques, but Daphne is a skillfully drawn character study that provides plenty enough meat to chew on for its full 90 minutes, and long thereafter.
Daphne – a film by Peter Mackie Burns
Daphne will be screened at mac on from Friday 13th to Thursday 19th October. For direct information, including showtimes, venue details and online ticket sales, click here.
For their latest endeavour, The Old Joint Stock Theatre and Tin Robot Theatre will be bringing to life David Almond’s much-loved story, Skellig, for the Christmas period. Skellig has fostered numerous productions and is particularly malleable source material due to its ambiguity of meaning and richness of allusion – adaptations can emphasise facets of the original work and build on them in their own way.
With their claustrophobic apocalypse, The War of the Worlds, having only just run its current course, Skellig offers a similar opportunity for Tin Robot Theatre to make their own mark on a classic. What threads will they choose to pull on, and how will their take on Skellig develop?
