Trago, viejas y helado de guayaba

Durante los días que pasé en Madrid, aparte de llevarme de cañas, también me invitaron al Teatro Infanta Isabel a ver La Fiesta Del Chivo; una adaptación al teatro de una no-tan-antigua novela de Varga Llosa, con el mismo nombre, que retrata la vida y asesinato del dictador dominicano Rafael Trujillo.

No voy a hablar de la dificultad que puede suponer adaptar una no-tan-corta novela al teatro, de si el resultado es-bueno-o-no, o de si tan siquiera está-justificado-o-no hacerlo habiendo tanto teatro escrito por ahí.

Lo más sorprendente del montaje de esta historia tan tropical, escrita por un autor tan latinoamericano, es que no hayan contado con ningún actor Latinx para representarla.

#ActoresLatinx #ActoresRacializados #ActorsOfColour  

At the Theatre_Not in 2018

I just saw a 30min monologue at The Old Vic called Sea Wall and I feel as if I had paid a full ticket to see a production at the Opera House where the soprano showed up in her yoga clothes to sing for us three arias a capella and left. The audience gave a standing ovation.

I won’t go into the writing. I won’t go into the delivery. I won’t even discuss the duration. I would just like to point out the importance of choosing the right context when it comes to performing a transgressive action. Live Art has taught us a lot about this issue.

I understand the intention of stripping down the performance -no lights, no costumes, no chorus, no scenography, no props, except a 500ml disposable plastic bottle of Aquafina- to bring the story closer to the audience. Artaud did it a century ago. Grotowski too. I am fascinated by Dario Fo who raised the figure of the medieval jongleur onto a stage. But is this action still a rebellion when performed in the premises of a safe and enclosed building with red velvet seats positioned in a semi-circle, for an audience who like me has paid to see a production? Really, in 2018?

At the Theatre_Why that Cast?

Last night I walked home from the Young Vic after watching seven hours of Matthew Lopez's The Inheritance. I would have normally crossed the river, gone past China Town through Soho and taken the tube back to my Bangoli neighbourhood in Mile End, but last night I needed some fresh air and some space to think about what I had just seen, so I walked.

The writing had been interesting to experience: a sort of narrative -meets drama -meets poetry that suited the plot well and allowed a story-telling mode to emerge throughout the play and give texture to this very wordy piece. The themes were powerful, and engaging, and relevant, especially for a poof like me, living the gay life of a mega-polis like London and embracing a flourishing social life of beer, parties and discreet sex in the weekends whilst dealing with an unresposive flatmate, STDs, my precarious finance and attempting a career as a full-time actor during the week.

Being a batti boy in the 80’s in New York mustn’t have felt very different from being a naughty fairy in London today. The LGTBQI+ community –not always with such a politically correct label- has consistently been inclusive, embracing, proud and fabulous. The good sheep and the bad, the immigrants, the gender benders, the overdressed, the overweighed, the uncontrolled, the slutty and the effeminate have had a voice for themselves and their cause.

I don`t think the queer scene in New York and London nowadays has changed much in this respect. Yes, we now have PrEP, Brexit, Uber and the dating apps, but overall mega-polis remain melting pots for provincial faggots and romantic nellies to escape to, and come out, and feel safe, and speak out,  and meet other fellow pansies with similar concerns and come together to finally feel legitimized, through their words, their actions, and the work they do.This is my experience, at least, and the case of most of the gays who I’ve met here.

So as I crossed Limehouse, and before reaching home I thought one last time about the play and asked myself why had they chosen a cast of predominantly white, young-aspirational, middle-upper class jocks? As a London based queer transatlantic middle aged migrant I felt excluded from this beautiful trans-generational and multicultural banquet both as an actor and as a homosexual man.

At the Theatre_Jérôme Bel

...and when I was starting to feel the tiredness of being a person, I find myself sitting in Sadler's Wells in front a group of twenty human beings that make me care for them. No words but dance. Something simple like a pirouette or one of those moves we practice when no one is watching provokes a giggle in me or an unexpected tear.

If only we were reminded more often that beauty is relative and boundaries biased.
Jérôme Bel's #Gala tonight was a celebration of difference and an exercise of compassion: the dose of humanity one would expect from an art expression nowadays.

I am curious about their process. I wish I had been in the rehearsal room. I wish I had been 'the salsa dancer' in the collective, choosing Joe Arroyo to be played out loud in the theatre and taking my clothes off in front of everyone at the end of the show.

At the Theatre_Playing Games

Lately I find myself very satisfied every time I go to the theatre. I think it has to do with the fact that I have progressively learned to differentiate what I might like from the rest and that's cool because it saves me a lot of money and protects my kharma.

Complicite's "Like Mother, like daughter" at Battersea Arts Centre last week explored the contrasting visions of tweleve mums and their daughters. Two nights ago Greg Wohead's "CelebrationFL" at The Yard spoke about human encounters.

What these shows had in common and made them authentically interesting was the fact that they were not about actors performing a text. They were about witnessing people react to each other while playing a game. Literally. A well designed, thoughtful, yet simple game that seemed imperceptible.  And let me tell you it was fun. Lot's of fun

At the Theatre_Candoco

Last night I saw Jérôme Bel's piece 'The Show Must Go On' performed by Candoco Dance Company and it was truly evocative and mind triggering. I found it rationally driven yet deeply emotional. 
The piece was simple, human, very smart, truthful and full of humour. It made me think how commonplaces highlight individuality when seen through the lens of diversity.