Directing Log: Friargate Scratch Night
Written by Alfred Howle, @death_of_the_alfie
On Saturday the 18th of May, I directed a short monologue called The Mother Tree, written and performed by Alice May Melton, a York-based theatre-maker.
It was fun, and here are a few thoughts.
The Challenge:
I’m mad about atmosphere. I have been ever since I came into contact with Michael Chekhov’s atmospheres, a concept-technique I hold central to my practice today. In the past, my atmospheric work has been the culmination of a set of slow processes consisting of long periods of self-reflection and embodiment of emotional concepts.
We didn’t have time for that. We had the lesser part of an afternoon.
But this was a very atmospheric piece. The protagonist, Grace, confronts the memories of her past, switching between the recent past wherein she is looking after a terminally ill Nan, and the long past, wherein she is being looked after by the same Nan, only younger and healthier.
On stage, a single performer is enrolled in embodying every character (there are 5) in her one body and voice, with very little narration or verbal indication of character changes, spatial and temporal changes, or even plot.
Thus, tone and atmosphere became a very important storytelling couple.
Atmosphere in the Performance:
There was a franticness to the piece, a longing to spend as little time as possible confronting the distressing times looking after Nan, and a tendency to return to plainer, happier memories of being read to aloud, learning to walk, and being nursed while sick, all of which have less happy counterparts in the time when Nan is unwell. Grace copes somewhere in the middle until finally hearing her Nan in the rustling and waving of the leaves of a Beech tree. Chaos, reality, noisiness, humanity. Peace, magic, solace, nature.
We did a good job getting it directed. Alice did most of the work, deftly managing her own words like poetry, openly running with my interpretations and telling a clear story. I encouraged these instincts, making a few suggestions here and there to squeeze the emotional potential out of particular moments, and helping to manage things like tone and spatiality for clarity. We also worked on some bits of movement throughout to assist with things like transitions, to convey highlighted physical themes, and to show seemingly unstageable moments, such as Nan, taking some steps towards a paramedic, transforming into a waddling Grace.
I particularly liked how we used the performer’s body to develop atmosphere in such little time. The emotional content of the text helped. A spell where Grace won’t let go of Nan’s hand saw the performer clinging on her to her own hand, not letting go until a generous Carer takes her place. The tension in Alice’s arms brought tension to the room; a fixed, interlaced, emotional focus for the audience. When it disappears, so does the tension.
Activity was another atmospheric powerhouse. Often, atmospheres are generated gradually, through the slow development of themes and images which turn into an unmistakeable emotional apogee. Here, chaos reigned over atmosphere like the swirling vortex of a guilty conscious. Quick speech, followed by long silence, followed again by a bout of agitation. It could be felt, and the piece benefited from the lack of plot clarity being replaced with an emotional landscape of friction and release.
The final emotional and atmospheric release was the Beech tree, which (referenced earlier) became a point of spiritual communion between Grace and Nan. All the chaos was gone, both Grace and Nan released from the distress of terminal illness by death. Death here becomes the atmosphere. Its multifaceted head rearing with sorrow on its shadowed side and clemency on the other. After the whirring chaos of Nan’s passing, the Beech tree is a salve for the audience, whom Grace approaches physically, and treats to the immersive sound of rustling leaves held close to a microphone.
Reflections:
Upon reflection, there are some points I would’ve changed about the performance, given more time.
Firstly, I think there is an even further exploration to be made into the split psyche of this character. Grace battles between two sets of memories, one an escape, the other inescapable. A long, interior exercise into the “shapes”, “colours”, and “feelings” of these memories and their impact on the character would greatly shape how an actor would tell this story.
Second, I think a lot of work could be put into the staging of this piece. In the room, we talked about a “bubble”, in and out of which Grace hops depending on whether she is ready to confront her memories or not. We didn’t have anything to represent this bubble, but I would love to work with a design team to realise this. Perhaps the lighting focuses entirely on the bubble when no one is in it, but its light encompasses the entire stage when someone is.
Third, this final moment of speaking with Nan through the medium of beech tree is one that deserves a lot of attention. Not only is the moment the confirmation of the magical connection between the characters Nan had hinted at earlier, but it is the final calming of Grace’s emotional tide. She confronts her memories so painfully inside her mind, until finally realising that there’s no need to do it alone. An interaction here between audience and performer (suggested in the hypothetical by Alice, too) would double down this message. We, as the audience, see this woman carry out torture on herself to reconcile her grief and guilt, not being given the opportunity to help. Until, perhaps, we become the beech tree, engage in a spiritual communion with her, and assist her in moving on with her life.
The consequence of grief is often loneliness, and it is through community and communication that it is aided.
Looking Ahead:
I learnt a lot from this performance about how atmospheres can look and manifest.
The rapidity of this piece, mixed with its devastatingly slow lows, was a new bit of tone for me to tackle. But it’s something I will strongly consider using in my future work.
As a solo piece, there’s also a lot to be said about how a single body can create so much meaning. Space, time, character, can all be implied by the flick of a wrist. I would love to spend a long time practising this with actors, seeing what the visual and semiotic limits of storytelling movement can really be.
Also, nature! I’ve also written comparisons between matriarchs and the natural world in my own plays. It seems to be a “natural” connection to many people. Worth exploring.
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Thanks for reading.
Alfie