Innovative Political Performance?
Why This Kind Of Ruckus isn’t a Ruckus
There are certain expectations I have for performance, let alone performance that claims to be innovative and political. As an artist who is also exploring similar themes to collective Version 1.0, I was really excited to read a flyer advertising their latest work This Kind of Ruckus.
“This Kind of Ruckus explores the forming and wrecking of relationships, patterns of control, and cycles of abuse. Drawing upon recent high-profile sexual assault scandals, accounts of relationship violence, and the subtle violence implicit within most relationships, this is confronting, unsettling and powerful theatre from Version 1.0, the acclaimed makers of Deeply Offensive and Utterly Untrue.”[i]
Now having seen the show twice (once in Sydney, in late 2009 and then again during the Adelaide Fringe, early 2010) I am frustrated. I am frustrated on many levels; as an audience member, as a young woman, as an artist, as a student, as a feminist and as an individual who has experienced more than one of the violence’s V1.0 claims to discuss in this work.
There is a lot to be said for the courage the people involved have had to even begin to explore such potent themes, this strength I admire to no end. But, there is something in the shows execution and collective energy, or lack of, that leave a lot to be desired politically and makes their choices for the piece questionable. I’d go as far as saying there are definitely moments in the show that are politically retrograde and, are so unforgiveable they squash instances of success I so desperately tried to cling to.
“A performance about power, control and violence in intimate relationships. The work explores sexual violence in a range of spheres – from the realm of the domestic, to the judicial system, to the media and popular cultural attitudes, to the recent spate of sexual assault scandals in the sporting arena…”[ii]
The structure of the show itself is a series of repeated actions, interspersed with verbatim text and bizarrely and ineffectively performed monologues. The shows sound track is incredible, (if it was for a different show) an incessant repetitive thumping of a beat that splinters the work into what could almost be called chapters, but not really. There is also the constant of media in the show, a video projection that is meant to mimic sporting footages live close-ups that “…magnifies the detail of physical actions and offers new perspectives on fine emotional detail, shedding new light on the minutiae of these human behaviours.”[iii] I disagree, media, in this case only highlights the lack of cohesion between imagery and message.
The set for the show is stunning, a bubble wrap curtain divides the space parallel to the audience, as performers disappear behind it and create ghostly figures reminiscent of alcohol-fuelled bleariness. Then, throughout the work a heavy red curtain of the theatre stage is drawn across the space bringing the performers to the edge of the stage where they sit and participate in storytelling and actions that are offensively obvious as throw aways to their claim to discuss the ‘recent spate of sexual assault scandals in the sporting arena…’. This opening and shutting of two worlds is incongruous , considering there has been no solid definition between the two spaces and their meaning. “…imagine fucking 12 of these guys in a row…. you haven’t got the balls.”
The three female and two male performers continuously swap roles in abstracted scenes of violence. (Always heterosexual and always with the man in power.) These ‘power plays’ are presented but never shift, violent action is placed in front of the audience and, then, it’s almost as if the performers creep away from it. Gender is split painfully into traditional roles, without this choice being made ironically. The two men are given all the power and, if this is a deliberate reflection of a patriarchal society then, it wasn’t clear. This isn’t successful political work for me, because I didn’t believe the performers really knew what they were questioning and whom they were pointing a finger to. Ideas were in there beginning stages, and, because of the style of the work, actions became immature and contrived.
“…Perhaps unsurprisingly , it’s been a dark and difficult work to make. The question we keep having to grapple with is why this and why now? Didn’t 70s feminist theatre comprehensively address sexual violence? Does this work need to be revisited by Version 1.0? Looking in the newspaper on a daily basis, with the ever-multiplying number of awful events, has demonstrated the urgent need for performance to return these themes.”[iv]
Of course there is an urgent need for performance to return to these themes. And it is, slowly. I disagree with this show because it gets lost in the performance of the action instead of keeping in mind and in energy the greater purpose of a political work. I can see how a collective might start with an agenda and then lose it in the process of making a work of this nature. It is shows like this that ride the importance of the voice they are claiming to give to women and victims of violence. An audience is then tricked into applause because, generally, (and it is so indicative of Australian audiences) they think any conversation about these atrocities must be good conversation, especially if it is coming from older, established white academic types, right?
As a community of Australian art makers we need to stop making work that is elitist and unapproachable. For this, ego’s must be removed, a work cannot be ‘actor-centric’. There is no time for people to run around patting each other’s backs in artistic circles. For a show describing itself as politically innovative it did not take any real risks. It felt like a work performed by much older players using stories that belonged to a younger generation that wasn’t acknowledged. And aren’t we, the youth, the ones who can change the socio-political climate? I feel it isn’t effective to perform your bird’s eye view of contemporary mainstream violence as mimicry; I became confused by the work using realism to perform highly common experiences, in it’s abstraction, V.1.0 has made the violence of their work foreign.
There was no real cohesion about an argument, no through line or gesture for betterment. Actions are thrown out and repeat themselves without building or changing. We, the audience, don’t need answers spelt out for us, it is in what questions are posed and how? I am left asking myself what this show is really about. Wondering, if this is really ‘a political work’ therefore a ‘show for the masses’. How can you charge $40 a ticket?
If, to quote Australian’s Sydney theatre critic John McCallum in that the growing power of documentary theatre is to do with “the power of bearing witness and testimony” then This Kind Of Ruckus falls short. Maybe my own struggle with performing a political work has made me stubborn. I just can’t help but come to the conclusion that This Kind of Ruckus is a work that had already given up the fight before opening night.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.