365 from the National Theatre of Scotland follows a series of teenagers emerging from care, and taking their first steps towards independence in ‘practice flats’. David Harrower’s drama explores the instabilities of identity that assail these young people, abruptly required to cope alone in the real world, attempting to transform themselves into functioning adults on the basis of some painfully dysfunctional childhoods.
Georgia McGuinness‘ ingenious exploded flat-pack of a set creates wonderfully unpredictable landscapes of domestic discovery. A row of white doors is rife with terrifying possibilities, with insistent buzzers and threatening voices on the other side. However, while a coolly ambient soundtrack and some slickly abstracted choreography are admittedly stylish, they also tend to cocoon the young cast from the challenge of establishing empathetic links beyond the fourth wall.
Some of the actors do manage slip past the show’s stylistic barriers and make a real emotional connection with the audience. Ben Presley and Rebecca Smith make a touchingly unlikely pair, painstakingly negotiating friendship amid the debris of a catastrophic party. And Ryan and Scott Fletcher are achingly plausible as estranged brothers, trading hyperbolic slanders with hesitant, hopeful longing.
It’s evident that Vicky Featherstone’s company have absorbed some unsettling statistics about the likely futures of ‘looked after’ children. But 365 sometimes seems more like an assemblage of data than a revealing dramatic exploration of young people’s lives and struggles. The framing device of an adult voice-over places the audience in uncomfortable complicity with grown-up authority, and the show’s obvious social concern eventually provokes little more than a state of chilly, depressed voyeurism. All too often it feels like we’re spying on these kids’ struggles through a two-way mirror as we observe, without entering or sharing, their remarkable and troubled private worlds.
365 at the Lyric Hammersmith from the 8th to the 27th of September.
Directed by Vicky Featherstone
Written by David HarrowerPhoto Top: Simone James. Photo by Pete Dibdin.
Photo Bottom: Ryan Fletcher, Rebecca Smith and Helen Mallon. Photo by Pete Dibdin.
“…the show’s obvious social concern eventually provokes little more than a state of chilly, depressed voyeurism.”
You’re right, and I think the main reason for it is that the show draws attention to a lot of the problems with corporate parenting without suggesting any kind of alternative or manifesto for positive change. You feel sorry for the characters because they’re being slowly crushed in a broken machine, instead of feeling outraged at the authorities that could fix it, but instead continue to turn the wheels regardless. “Chilly and depressed” is dead on.
What did you think of the overall style of the piece? I was as impressed as you by the serial-numbered Ikea set - the many front doors, especially, were potent symbols for the barriers erected by the characters to keep the world at bay - and I’ve never seen so many set-pieces and performers flying in one show before, but I thought the mixture of naturalism and symbolism was at times a bit piecemeal. There were parts where I thought the style was leaning towards Gestus - struggling towards the light but constantly dragged backwards or left dangling by an unseen force? being forced back to the old hiding place under the table as the entire room tilts that way? - which was wonderful, but never integrated fully with the more static monologues and duologues. The two styles seemed to be taking turns, scene by scene, without ever melding into a coherent aesthetic.
Interesting…I noticed that a certain Owen Whitelaw was part of the cast and I’m curious to know whether he’s related to Billie Whitelaw or not. Anyone have any idea? Thanks.
Owen and Billie Whitelaw are not related.
Whitelaws aside - I thought the style of the piece was, well, odd. for me, the glamour and slickness of it seemed to pull against the grittiness of the kids’ stories. and when you did get the big symbolic moments - some of which were, in themselves, fantastic (I liked the tilting room) - I felt a bit as if someone were trying to compensate for a complicated and understated multi-strand narrative by offering big, easy-to-interpret stage-pictures, regardless of whether they were organically linked to the texture of the show.
but then - maybe I’m just cynical.
I’m all for big, easy-to-interpret stage pictures - that kind of symbolism or Gestus or whatever term you fancy is something theatre does better than any other medium, for my money. And 365 really committed to some of them: the tilting room especially was arresting just in terms of its scale. It’s just that it was also committed to being a series of mostly naturalistic monologues and scenes à la Cartwright’s Road (albeit without the crippling pacing issues). So the stage pictures, however effective each one may have been in isolation, were just diversions or asides - like you said, not organically linked to the texture of the show.