The pain of living with pain
body’s signals, leading to a prolonged period of discomfort.
Their first way round the problem is to devise a story that illustrates how someone may be affected by the condition. Hannah Mcpake, performing with a steady, compelling control in this China Plate production, plays a young woman who is so governed by the experience of excruciating pain that, even when she hooks up with a boyfriend who is sympathetic and empathetic, cannot help herself from offloading her agony on him. The narrative gives an everyday human face to an extraordinary mental state.
Secondly, in Bagshaw’s production, Melanie Wilson’s ever-present score uses background noise to create the sensation of a persistent neurological sensation that you just can’t shake off. It comes and goes in volume, but it’s never far away. Coupled with the visual intensity of Joshua Pharo’s lighting and projections on Madeline Girling’s industrial set, it gives us some insight into this strange, allconsuming condition. MARK FISHER
0 A moving attempt to communicate what it’s like to live with pain she even speaks. But it’s her rapport with the audience that makes this. Choosing her subjects well by interacting with everyone in a small group of 20 she then invites the most suitable candidates to interact with her characters and other audience members in a bid to find a “match” and it’s fascinating to watch some very willing audience members wrestle with emotionally intimate questions. The solo theatrical aspects to this work well but even if Duquette stripped them out she could probably sell this format to Channel 4 RORY FORD comedy is occasionally tinged with darkness yet always delivered with a disarming toothy smile. It’s ironic that much of her material revolves around selfdeprecating swipes as she’s exceedingly likeable.
She also knows that the key to good observational comedy is to pick up on trivial things that you’ve observed without realising it, hence her observation that you never see old twins works so well.
Other subjects under review include school bullies, inspirational teachers, the dangers of white wine consumption and the strange, sad world of inflatable sex doll enthusiasts.
Although there’s no overarching theme, for the most part Lucas moves smoothly between each subject. Her personality and punchlines are what holds the show together. This isn’t groundbreaking stuff by any means, but it isn’t trying to be. It’s a collection of intelligent, witty, honest jokes delivered by a pro. Sometimes that’s all you need. PAUL WHITELAW thespace @ Surgeons Hall (Venue 53) JJJ Magic and drama are occasionally, but not often, found in the same show – unless that show’s by Joe Strickland, who’s been creating narrative-based magic performances since the age of 15. The follow-up to last year’s popular piece, it’s once again a series of short scenes, performed by actors from Nottingham New Theatre, in which mime and comedy merge with the magic to ensure that the storytelling, as well as the tricks, leads to a few surprises.
Both Arthur Mckechnie and Natalie Henderson – as a homeless man and a gambler – find they are playfully undermined by the tricks they perform in a way that’s amusing. Lara Bellis’s impassioned political campaigner is particularly interesting. If you don’t stand up (or in the case of Rosa Parks, sit down) “you might as well be invisible,” she concludes as the images from a pack of cards disappear. It’s a super, subversive piece that could easily be developed into a full-length show.
Strickland brings the performance to a close with a routine that humorously ties in many of the props that “disappeared” earlier – a wry conclusion to a show that proves that simple tricks can be used in fresh, imaginative and thought provoking ways. SALLY STOTT Greenside @ Infirmary Street (Venue 236) JJ Decently sung and competently choreographed, it’s difficult to know what to make of Oliver Wood’s new musical as it seems to have little interest in communicating with its audience. While the songs are pleasant, this entirely sung piece struggles to impart any sense of narrative. It’s – apparently – about how a childhood friendship mitigates growing up with mental illness but, unless so informed by the programme notes, you could easily take it as a love story set in a dystopian future. It’s a bold approach to ignore the audience’s need for conventional storytelling but it simply doesn’t pay off. RORY FORD