Jarvis Cocker in Conversation: Good Pop, Bad Pop (Crucible Theatre)

•  30/05/22

It was a night of homecoming for Sheffield’s Mr Cocker. Arriving on the Crucible stage, armed with a full bin liner and framed by those big specs, he presented a night of nostalgia, humour and love for the city that made him great.

There to talk about his latest book, Good Pop, Bad Pop, Jarvis was being interviewed to a sold-out crowd who couldn’t be happier to have him home in Sheffield. The book is a sort of inventory- he raided his loft in his East London apartment in lockdown, a raid he hadn’t undertook since he moved in the 80s. He goes through many an item, describing and decoding its significance to him.

The bin bag of props would tell the irreverent and quintessentially working-class birthing of Pulp. From a second-hand exercise book sketching out the Pulp uniform and manifesto, to a matchbox containing the last remnants of original Imperial Leather soap, the seemingly random assortment shows Jarvis’ passion for what Pulp would and did become; he drew a vision at 15 and it, in all its weird glory, came true.

His songs tell of the beautiful comedy in the ordinary and that’s exactly what the night was. He spoke of Sheffield’s resilience in the age of Thatcher, the nightlife that educated him musically, and the firm devotion of the women that raised him. He highlighted the whimsy and shadowed the bleak- his lyrical storytelling, and his Yorkshire drawl juxtaposing like the themes in his art.

The Q&A section at the end of the talk turned into a superfan session, as to be expected from his hometown. People of all sorts were bursting with (sometimes stalker-like) confessions of true fans. Despite Jarvis looking uncomfortable at times (which added hilarity), it was lovely to see such an enthusiastic crowd, all happy to be there in times where we’ve been kept apart.

It was a great night, the crowd was happy and our speaker was happy. His mum was there and he showed photos she wouldn’t have seen. It proved the Crucible’s power as a theatre- the power to harness delicate intimacies and large jokes and themes with great success. I’m proud to be a part of it, however small that part is. 

Straight Line Crazy (National Theatre Live stream @ Savoy cinemas)

• David Hare, Nicholas Hynter, 26/05/22

David Hare has the magical ability to weave a passionate feat of story out of the most specific and dense social cases. Straight Line Crazy takes Caro’s epic biography of NY’s Robert Moses, The Power Broker and turns it into triumphant dramatic storytelling.

Moses is the city’s most celebrated, yet most controversial urban planner, mapping out his ideal state: miles of roads connecting the natural scape of Long Island to Manhattan’s concrete jungle, and then connecting its concrete to its concrete. His intentions are exposed in the paradox between his achievement and infamy; Ralph Fiennes is blistering as the fiercely stubborn, yet driven Moses.

His racist motivations are exposed by the ever victorious middle class protestors, they speak for others, speak over others and are listened to over those Others. Regardless, we finally watch Fiennes’ Moses crumble from a tower to a slum of a man. 

The backbone of the play is female: a spine that is as sensitive as it is strong. Siobhan Cullen stuns as Finnuala Connell; she is the woman he might listen to. She stands in opposition to architectural journalist and Moses critic Jane Jacobs (Helen Schlesinger) who is ignored and triggers his demise. Both women narrate our tale, orbiting the dilemma of Moses: what he built and what was demolished in his path.

The play informs and it evokes. Hare’s writing and Hynter’s direction blend to create a striking dramatic creation; it’s one that exposes where integrity, greed and respect intercept and corrode each other. Moses’ roads were not means of connection, but means of segregation. They spider on the map that carpets the stage floor, but instead look like cracks in breaking concrete. Which they were: they broke up New York's people and its place. 

A privilege to watch and a play born for the Olivier stage.

A Long Adjustment

 She sat up still, indefinitely slipping into the pressure to only exist positively in the minds of others- a place that she scarcely existed at all. I think it’s a pressure she found comfort in though. It’s comforting when the pressure is to work up to pleasing others and not herself, be that in attraction or in kindness. She was past sourcing approval from herself.

Eventually she would rise and scrub herself raw under steam and scalding water: a new skin for a new day. She would anoint the new skin with her oils and creams, letting it be christened in scent and protection.

She has to romanticise morning time like this. Quotes of saints and clever thinkers had always lined her walls and her mind. This is how you get ready when you’ve grown up in your head: you’re annoying.

Whether this was a day at work or a day of self, she’d wear a uniform. Either the colours of whatever theatre or drowning her figure in long skirts previously owned by some woman and a large t shirt previously owned by some man.

Her hair fell too close to the bottom of her spine, she realised, as she fiddled with it incessantly. Still, she wore it the only way she new how, drew wings around her eyes and orange smudged along her cheeks. Getting ready was this ritual- a ritual of performing the same tasks but hoping the outcome would prove her worth differently each day.

Sounds all a pretentious morning, but she doesn’t have all the potential for pretence. Hours are filled on her phone: the app with the videos and the app with the swiping, the website with the letters, the pages with the politics. She sits and lets her brain hum and whir in the buzz of the screen- it’s easier to sit here distracted. It’s fun for now and its ok that it’s fun.

The incense burning was suffocated out the air by the aromas of expectation and defeat. This is her childhood room with her broken childhood bed and her broken childhood wardrobe. The wardrobe that spilled out into the floor, the hall and the garage. She formed attachment to the clothes she bought to hide in. Enough fabric to sail a ship.

She spent weekends running away to see successful friends in different cities, trying to rebuild the confidence she’d let boys snort away. She would get too intoxicated on validation or substance and drift further from herself for another week. Skint of course.

She spent her mornings in this period of adjustment, adjustment from dream to reality and from panic to motion. It was a deciding point- would this be a good day or a bad day. We know it’s not that deep and it will be likely be neither. She thinks about what she knows and what she doesn’t have to decide.

She knew her younger sisters are extensions of herself, growing into better and more beautiful forms of how she was. It was one of the things she knew to be true and one of the things that made her happiest. She’s struggling to listen to music as lyrics remind her of situations she won’t experience. The Moon and Me plays for the hundredth time that week and she basks in the nonsense of the album.

She might not have much going for herself right now, but she’s nurturing and affirming the fact that this is a much-needed time. In other words, she’s repeating pointless words in her head and staring at washing on the line.

Whether she eats or doesn’t eat are just as relevant as each other. She drinks water and it’s stale. She sits at her desk and the water sits on her tongue, as she adjusts to the beginning of the day.

Preparing for the Full Moon

 Blood Moon May 26^th!!!!! Beginner's Guide!!!!

Just want to start off by saying I have no substantial qualification to be talking about this at all really- the moon is just a big love of mine. I do actually *surprisingly!!* get a lot of questions on what I do to prepare for and celebrate a full moon. It is a night of setting manifestations into action, whilst curating direct and specific affirmations to help the groove of the lunar cycle flow.

Tomorrow is the full blood moon in Sagittarius. This is thought of as a night of revelations, epiphanies and endings. It’s known as the ‘Super Flower Blood Moon Eclipse’ (long name but nothing scary) and indicates that change is coming. I think with Uni and school ending, and lockdown lifting, we can welcome this as the perfect time to affirm positive change and new routine.

Before any judgement comes, I think being in tune with the moon’s schedule is one of the most grounding things you can do, whether you believe in its power and prowess or not. Regulating your goals, mood and strength on (at least) fortnightly occasions only elevates your emotional education and self-awareness. I think, alongside a strong sense of empathy, self-awareness is one of the most important traits to have. Use Wednesday’s full moon to harness and deepen your capacity to be self-aware. It’s fun to get dressed up and have a drink too… Here’s what I’ll be doing:

Journaling

This is your time for introspection: a pen, a blank piece of paper and a stream of consciousness. If you have a special notebook for this occasion, it’s known as your Book of Mirrors… a journal of reflection.

Any notebook will do- this step is absolutely essential to a full moon routine. I like to use poems as journal prompts, as they are open to emotional interpretation and I find it easier to relate to myself through the words of someone else (Anne Sexton is the one.) But prompts don’t have to be literary, I sometimes just pick one word, write it in the centre of my page and sprawl thoughts around it. This should be a word summing up how you’ve been feeling in the past weeks, an emotional trigger or key word. Just use it to stimulate thoughts and write for as long as you need. Full sentences are not necessary.

I think the most useful form of introspective writing is shadow work; I’ll write about this soon.

Rituals

‘Rituals’ sound scary but they don’t have to be. Here’s something easy you can do each month to help affirm what you’ve learnt from this cycle and what you’re aiming for in the next.

Light a white candle for peace and guidance. Take a blank sheet of A4 and on one side, write what you wish to let go of: bad habits and negative thought patterns. Use what you just written in your journal for inspiration if you need. Read it carefully and feel it deeply. This is what you are banishing.

Next, turn the paper over and write what you want to bring in: healthy habits and positive thought patterns. The more specific you are, the more accurate your affirmations will be. Read it all and take it in, you should be feeling what you’re writing. This is what you’re welcoming, and affirming.

Go outside with your white candle and burn the sheet corner by corner. You should be burning it over a bowl to catch the ashes. Once done, leave the bowl outside under the full moon. It’ll be under the moon’s energy and your affirmations will charge.  

Meditation

Time is privilege. But if you have it, 10 minutes of meditation (guided or free) will benefit your night. I don’t do anything fancy as I struggle to sit still for long. Take space on your floor or bed, or desk, and light a candle. At the moment, I’m planning for next year, so I’ll be lighting a green candle for success, career and drive. Put on instrumental music or chakra frequency and focus on breathing, your body and your space. Bask in your ritual and what you will be welcoming. Tune into the words you wrote and the goals you are manifesting. It’s hard but try and feel present if you can.

Moon Water

If you have/ use crystals this is very important. Here’s your time to charge your gems and rocks. Use the light and energy of the moon, and the affirmations/manifestations you have studied to energise your stones for use. I fill a silver bowl with water, place the crystals in the bath and leave it one my windowsill to charge under moonlight. In the morning, keep the water in a bottle or jar as it can be used for other occasions, or ready to be strengthened when the next full moon rolls around.

If you are new to crystals, get yourself some lapis lazuli (third eye abilities), amethyst (protection), rose quartz (relationships) and carnelian (strength). You’ll thank me for it.

Research

Imposter syndrome exists in witches too! (Btw I am not a witch I am a poser.) But what I mean is that it can be intimidating to get involved in the lunar cycle, due to the volume of info and criticism out there. Just know that you’re doing the right thing by dedicating a night to the moon here- she’ll appreciate it 😉.

If you’re feeling lost or intimidated though, there’s so much out there to help you. To start off, you can read this post of course. Watching youtubers or influencers isn’t really my buzz for this night, as I’m conscious of imitating people when I want this to an individualised journey. But, if you’re not fussed, get on YouTube and watch a ‘full moon routine’ or two and take some notes (in your Book of Mirrors of course.)

Apps can help too and they’re free! ‘Stone’ is for all your crystal needs (‘very user friendly’- Hannah Sears-Black) and 'Time Passages' keeps you in check with astrology.

Must be the English student in me, but books are my preferred way to research a full moon night. Here are some I have on my makeshift altar, definite recommendations:

·       The Book of Magic- Brian Copenhaver

·       Old Wives’ Tales- Mary Chamberlain

·       Sacred Self Care- Chloe Isidora

·       The Green Witch- Arin Murphy-Hiscock

·       The Crystal Healer- Phillip Permutt

Of course, there are extra things you can do. Tarot readings, sex and spells are also welcomed on a full moon, but be careful with those... I hope this post rounds up the basics-  have the most wonderful night however you celebrate, see you on the New Moon (10^th June).

Pinter Theatre’s Uncle Vanya: Chekhov’s reminder to keep going as our second lockdown hits

The first time we went into lockdown (sad to be even typing 'first time') I remember seeing an instagram post likening the situation to a Chekhov play: nothing happens, we just sit round drinking vodka. For this tiny reason, his dramas are synomonyous with lockdown, but this one is particularly so.

I was in sixth form when I realised he was my favourite writer. We were studying The Seagull and my mind was blown by the intrinsic style of drama- how every line penetrates the events, how every character is entrapped in the complexities of their motivation. A lot of time has passed since then, and my admiration for the Russian naturalist has only grown stronger, with forensic study of him at university and reading and research in my free time. I went to watch this year’s Uncle Vanya on a whim, having only read it once. If I’m honest, I was just keen to make the most of the cinemas before their imminent closure on Thursday. But, it completely knocked me for six- a piece of theatre hasn’t touched me like that in a long time.

Despite my tears at the play’s tragedy, there was definite reassurance in having such a strong reaction, as the theatre we know’s future is uncertain. This particular production was stopped mid rehearsals in March; it was an icon of the pandemic’s disruption and the government’s negligence. It was uncertain whether or not it would ever be performed. The decision was made to keep its staging at the Harold Pinter Theatre, but there would be no inside audience, just crew and a camera man. It would instead be streamed to cinemas nationwide. This alters the play’s dramaturgical symptoms: the rigidity of naturalism's compulsory fourth wall is disrupted and softened slightly, as you’re hyper aware that you’re watching theatre without audience, with actors performing soliloquy like sequences directly to a camera lens. This disturbance to Chekhov’s routine only makes the translation of Vanya’s modern implications more relevant, more haunting.

The play takes place on a provincial estate, with an esteemed, but pretentiously stupid, professor visiting. He ends up staying and residing- altering the lives of all living there ever so slightly, but also absolutely completely. The titular Vanya (Toby Jones) is a hilarious, sarcastic and quickly intelligent man in his late 40s, but a strong depression has lulled him into a state far beneath his potential. His life is one of the play’s tragedies. The professor (Roger Allam) was married to Vanya’s beloved sister, and they had a beloved daughter, Sonia (stellar performance from Aimee Lou Wood). The professor leaves Sonia in Vanya’s care and they work tirelessly to keep the estate running with the accounts in surplus. Sonia shares a love interest with her new stepmother, the beautiful, sad and enigmatic Yelena: handsome philanthropist-come-hedonist Doctor Astrov (Richard Armitage). The play orbits their little dramas over about a year’s period, until the devastating climax in the final act. 

Lou Wood’s Sonia is heart breaking. Her character doesn’t change, as much as Chekhov feeds you more about the person behind her tireless empathy and you discover her not to be innocent, but just as violently depressed as her uncle. But she is a voice of hope, of strength, and her relevance to our current time is palpable. Her and Vanya are stuck in the same house, doing the same things, whilst watching (and assuming that) everyone close to them have change in their life. They both experience crushing unrequited love, only strengthening their love and willingness to cope for each other.

Chekhov’s writing aligns with Stanislavski’s method: every line written and spoken holds an objective direct to the character’s arching agency. This means his characters can transpose time, their intentions involve other characters but are not particular to the socio-political climate, history or technology of the time. Despite being late 19^th C, his realism is not that of a history play. This production applies directly to now.

Its relevance is perfect. At its time of composure the creatives were not aware that it was going to be staged to a country on the brink of its second lockdown. It is one of the most raw, visceral and brutally accurate depictions of domestic depression I’ve encountered, on stage or screen or page.  Sonia’s final lines, about the need to push through and how to persevere, should be broadcast nationally. I was in floods of tears as the play ended, but left with a calming hope. Doctor Astrov incessantly refers to the comfort he finds in thinking of people 200 years from him ridiculing and making light of the tribulations of 19^th C life. This message holds true to now: remembering your macro insignificance to micro importance to those close to you is a key to getting through the struggles facing us all in November- it relieves the mass pressure Boris and co are criminally shifting our way. Sonia’s empathy is her strongest virtue and saviour, and it should be ours as well.

(Also, shout out to the elderly gentleman on my row in the cinema who offered me his hankie and a minstrel when I started crying. Appreciate it.)

Sea Wall Film: a short review

There is little point me attempting to write a synopsis of Sea Wall- I feel incapable as I’m not clever enough to sum it all up. The play’s official description says it best as a ‘uniquely intimate portrayal of humanity’. It is a masterful and honest monologue, written by Simon Stephens and performed by Andrew Scott, perhaps the two most talented men in their fields right now. Scott plays Alex, a man telling stories of his life’s little joys and great tragedy- he is completely open to whoever’s watching. His stories are written and told in flurries of words placed perfectly in tandem feeling, and rhythm.

Stephens once came into my school, to do a talk, and he was unforgettably fascinating and inspiring. I went home, googled him and found a 2009 Guardian review of Sea Wall at the Edinburgh Fringe. I remember the writer coining the performance ‘the most devastating 30 minutes’ you’ll ever have in the theatre. I still remember that phrase.

It is a ‘devastating’ play, but it is significant now that the devastation isn’t in a theatre. This pandemic has removed theatre, the concept, from theatre, the place. It has meant that new meanings are cast onto archived pieces of work and Sea Wall encapsulates how and why this has been successful. Watching Scott’s performance as Alex feels so centred, so direct and almost personal. This filmed version of the play isn't a live performance recording, but a film in itself that was released in 2o11. Now it can be streamed on YouTube. In this rare chance, theatre can exist accessibly as one person talking to one person listening. The residual symptoms of watching a play are eradicated and I think this makes it more intense, more true.

The way Stephens writes love, life and God makes you really, really feel something. Humanity is in one sentence ‘completely falling inside [oneself]’ and in the next merely a ‘bit of meat and air’. The rugged juxtaposition of the poetic against the literal grants Sea Wall the ability to be both grounded in a reality and elevated in concept. Stephens is able to sum up the giant philosophical pillars of existence into anecdotes about supermarket shopping, and it works really beautifully.

Scott is perfectly cast. Watching him breaks you out of any consciousness that you’re watching someone act, or even speak. His fluidity and rhythm convinces you that you’re just watching a person be. You’re entranced by his story: who Alex is, what he’s been through, or why he has chosen to tell you. The openness is so raw and so moving. Scott’s performance is dynamic, like the ambiguity of Stephens’ writing. You’re witnessing an existence that is both transient and permanent.

Sea Wall is available to watch until the 25^th of May

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j01kVmBoJW0

The Five Stages of: UK Lockdown

Having just turned the grand old age of 20 as we went into 'lockdown', I shortly embarked on a quarter-life crisis... I didn't know what to with myself, now as an adult stuck in my childhood bedroom with nothing to do. I did eventually get out of being selfishly stressed out- there is more to life than missed internships and cancelled festivals. I broke down how I was feeling into the generic 'Five Stages of *insert trauma here*', and it helped. This is an incredibly tough, weird Orwellian time that we're all in together.

1. Denial

No doubt, you sat watching the peroxide coloured man we call a Prime Minister announce lockdown in his 17:30 broadcast, and feel something like the world shattering around you. It was, of course, the right call to make and should have happened earlier. However, it is daunting to have to put every bit of your working, social and academic lives on hold for, well we don’t know how long for. It’s safest to space out and believe it’s not happening! Simply just ignore the piles of emails and attempted 'zooms' from professors, never learn what ‘furlough’ actually is and turn your phone off for a week. Deny, deny, deny…

2. Anger 

Turns out there is a limited time frame on attempting to drown out the world in crisis with TikTok. It’s time to wake up from the blissful haze of ignorance and realise that we are in a big old mess! You now watch the news like it’s a crime drama to binge and begin to spiral: spiral deep down into a tangled web of conspiracy theory, sceptical online ‘newspapers’ and angry, angry twitter threads (from your Grandad in my case). Blaming grossly rich societal figureheads (Richard Branson/Tim Martin/Victoria Beckham) for the state of our country becomes your new hobby, and tea with your family resembles those old white men booing over each other in parliament. You don’t actually know know what is going on (because who does?), but boy, are you angry about something. Very angry- thank goodness for your daily walk because it’s keeping you sane.

3.  Bargaining

I don’t think this particular stage will ever be one to get over- the stage of the ‘What Ifs’: what if lockdown hadn’t happened? The anger has melted away as, unlike a middle-aged woman (a ‘Karen’ most likely) you can’t stay full of rage for too long. Now, you’ve moved onto reminiscing life pre-lockdown. This is a highly dangerous period of vastly over romanticising anything you've ever experienced. Rogue nights out fizz in your memory as wild adventures, slogs in the library are remembered as eureka moments and hungover shifts are dazzling career highlights in your foggy recollection. In this weird time of home imprisonment, anything before it seems like a past life lived in a perfect, effervescent dream state. In reality, it was just fine. But, if it’s going to take living retrospectively to get you through the day then I think that’s okay.

 4. Depression

It’s very important to not use this term too lightly. Feeling ‘depressed’ isn’t some castaway adjectival phrase, it’s a medical condition. In the case of these stages of lockdown, I took it to mean the almighty grogginess we’ve all become victim to. Motivation has been sucked out of our systems like the last dregs of a McDonalds milkshake though those paper straws. You’re sleeping in and then staying up, succumbing to the routine of an indecisive insomniac. It's hard to be productive (whatever that means) when you've forgotten what you're working towards. As long as you’re looking after yourself and others, I don’t think one can have too many duvet days. They’re good for the soul.

5. Acceptance 

And... before you know it, you’ve reached the final stage: accepting that you have no clue on how to do things, and that is ok! Making a playlist for every single possible mood is a successful use of your time, it is ok if you didn’t run 5K in 20 mins and it is more than fine if you don’t have a politically intelligent and ethically mindful opinion for everything that’s happening (*yawns*). It is enough to just be. Message your family, talk to your friends and get outside if you can. Notice your privileges and look out for those around you who aren’t safe to just 'stay at home'. Coming to accept that you’re living through such a strange and upsetting time is hard, so congratulations. Lockdown? You’ve completed it mate.

Places to donate to those who need it:

https://www.nhscharitiestogether.co.uk/

https://www.trusselltrust.org/make-a-donation/

https://donate.refuge.org.uk/page/51133/donate/1

https://www.refuge.org.uk/get-help-now/help-for-men/

https://www.mind.org.uk/donate/

https://england.shelter.org.uk/donate?reserved_appeal_code=20190401-DF-10&gclid=CjwKCAjwkun1BRAIEiwA2mJRWYU46TbJHbAygBeZfq4Lc_uM8jbIsQ7nigKS98xQxFU8yn--TXN8pRoCf08QAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds