If you'd like to read my brief review of the production of 1984 without hearing my life's story in the process, please feel free to skip down to the three posters!
When it comes to giving birthday presents, my dad is one of a kind: the best kind. Simply wrapping up a box of chocolates and handing it over with a card doesn't quite cut it with him (although I'd be more than happy with a box of chocolates, wrapped or unwrapped!). Instead, he likes to come up with something a little more imaginative. This year, as well as sending me out into the garden shed to find two vintage-style wooden crates for my room, he also presented me with a rather tatty-looking brown envelope. Inside I found one of his customary dad-style vouchers:
Being the theatre/1984/dystopian literature fan that I am, this was a near-perfect gift for me. He did, however, have one slight "confession" to make, in that he hadn't actually bought the tickets yet; he just planned to get them last-minute on the day... But, still armed with the belief that my dad can do pretty much anything, I wouldn't put it past him to get us into a sold-out show, so this was hardly a cause for concern!
On the day of the performance, my map reading skills were put to the test as I had to make my way from King's Cross St Pancras to Russel Square, where I was to meet my dad from work. Despite the fairly simple route, I felt like a proper tourist as I stood frowning at my map in the middle of the busy pavement, obliviously holding up the stream of weary commuters. After a bit of map-twisting and turning round on the spot to get things in the right direction, I managed to locate Russel Square and (more importantly) its café. I must admit, I felt rather pleased with myself as I sat outside the busy café reading Moby-Dick and waiting for my dad to enter the Square to see the embodiment of culture and sophistication that was his daughter.
As promised, we went to a little Italian (although not "dad's special Italian restaurant", as this was closed) for dinner. My dad had tried to sell it to me by telling me that we would be served by a "Big Momma" and cooked for by a man who was "probably a cousin". This is the kind of family-run place that he adores, where the food is authentically Italian and the Peroni is served in a plastic beaker. Granted, his spaghetti bolognaise was delicious and my (slightly less traditional) chicken cheese burger really hit the spot.
Miraculously (yet somewhat unsurprisingly) my dad had managed to get us tickets in the centre of the second row. While at the cinema, being so close can be disorientating, at the theatre it seemed to make me feel all the more involved and I loved seeing the actors only a few metres away. Upon entry, we'd been told that there was no interval and no re-admittance once the performance had started, which put me slightly on edge before the lights had even gone down.
Being quite a complex book, I was interested to see how Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan were going to portray the story in a way that would put across Orwell's finer details, yet would be possible to follow. Although a powerful and thought-provoking play on its own, I would personally have struggled to appreciate all of it if I hadn't read the book. Despite having studied it extensively only a year ago, there were still moments in which I found myself a little lost. For example, the story itself is framed by a modern day book group meeting, in which they are discussing Winston Smith's diary. Although this historical stance is hinted at in Orwell's Appendix, this is a different, yet effective, way of presenting the dystopian tale.
Somewhat confusingly, the play is full of repeated scenes and phrases, which managed to unnerve the audience, as well as create the chilling atmosphere required. The casting was extremely true to the novel, with the characters of Parsons and O'Brien being almost exact replicas of the images I'd formed when reading the book. In the same way, the set design was ingenious, especially the way in which the audience watched Winston and Julia's 'secret' meetings in the antique shop on a big screen while they acted off-stage. This technique succeeded to embody the infamous phrase, "Big Brother is watching you" and saw that the tension and drama exploded into the audience at the dreaded words "You are the dead". I think my mouth actually dropped open in astonishment, even though I had known it was coming. This climatic moment really captured the essence of the novel and is something that I could watch over and over again.
In "the place where there is no darkness", the set was equally as effective, with the luminescent whiteness contrasting horrifically with the blood, causing one engrossed audience member to cry out in shock. Through the excellent use of lighting, sound effects and costume, everyone in the room felt part of Winston's mental and physical experience, to an extent that cannot quite be achieved in a novel.
As well as blood and horror, the play also contained scenes of almost violent sexual passion between Winston and Julia. Although done well, perhaps without the background knowledge of the book, their relationship and consequential commitment to the 'Brotherhood' may have seemed a little rushed. However, to portray such complex ideas about love, trust, freedom and manipulation in only 101 minutes, is no mean feat.
Almost before I knew it, the actors were receiving their well-deserved applause and the lights were coming on again. As I was ushered out of the theatre, I was still reeling from everything I'd seen and felt in great need of a lengthy discussion about the play! Cleverly, the final appearance of the book-group planted in our minds some terrifying questions about our own society, meaning that it was hard not to leave feeling just a little stunned.
Have you seen the play? Read the book? I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a comment below!
Harriet x
When it comes to giving birthday presents, my dad is one of a kind: the best kind. Simply wrapping up a box of chocolates and handing it over with a card doesn't quite cut it with him (although I'd be more than happy with a box of chocolates, wrapped or unwrapped!). Instead, he likes to come up with something a little more imaginative. This year, as well as sending me out into the garden shed to find two vintage-style wooden crates for my room, he also presented me with a rather tatty-looking brown envelope. Inside I found one of his customary dad-style vouchers:
Being the theatre/1984/dystopian literature fan that I am, this was a near-perfect gift for me. He did, however, have one slight "confession" to make, in that he hadn't actually bought the tickets yet; he just planned to get them last-minute on the day... But, still armed with the belief that my dad can do pretty much anything, I wouldn't put it past him to get us into a sold-out show, so this was hardly a cause for concern!
On the day of the performance, my map reading skills were put to the test as I had to make my way from King's Cross St Pancras to Russel Square, where I was to meet my dad from work. Despite the fairly simple route, I felt like a proper tourist as I stood frowning at my map in the middle of the busy pavement, obliviously holding up the stream of weary commuters. After a bit of map-twisting and turning round on the spot to get things in the right direction, I managed to locate Russel Square and (more importantly) its café. I must admit, I felt rather pleased with myself as I sat outside the busy café reading Moby-Dick and waiting for my dad to enter the Square to see the embodiment of culture and sophistication that was his daughter.
As promised, we went to a little Italian (although not "dad's special Italian restaurant", as this was closed) for dinner. My dad had tried to sell it to me by telling me that we would be served by a "Big Momma" and cooked for by a man who was "probably a cousin". This is the kind of family-run place that he adores, where the food is authentically Italian and the Peroni is served in a plastic beaker. Granted, his spaghetti bolognaise was delicious and my (slightly less traditional) chicken cheese burger really hit the spot.
During the meal, I discovered (to my outrage) that my dad had never actually read 1984. In a hasty attempt to make up for his failings, I made him read this article I wrote, which includes a brief summary/review of the text. I also promised to find him my A-Level English coursework about it when we got home, which I'm sure thrilled him immensely...
After having cleansed our palettes with some real Italian ice-cream, we set off in search of the Playhouse Theatre. Despite a few "where are we?" moments (we were about 100 metres from Trafalgar Square...), we knew we'd found it when we saw a building plastered in posters (the third one being my personal favourite):
Being quite a complex book, I was interested to see how Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan were going to portray the story in a way that would put across Orwell's finer details, yet would be possible to follow. Although a powerful and thought-provoking play on its own, I would personally have struggled to appreciate all of it if I hadn't read the book. Despite having studied it extensively only a year ago, there were still moments in which I found myself a little lost. For example, the story itself is framed by a modern day book group meeting, in which they are discussing Winston Smith's diary. Although this historical stance is hinted at in Orwell's Appendix, this is a different, yet effective, way of presenting the dystopian tale.
Somewhat confusingly, the play is full of repeated scenes and phrases, which managed to unnerve the audience, as well as create the chilling atmosphere required. The casting was extremely true to the novel, with the characters of Parsons and O'Brien being almost exact replicas of the images I'd formed when reading the book. In the same way, the set design was ingenious, especially the way in which the audience watched Winston and Julia's 'secret' meetings in the antique shop on a big screen while they acted off-stage. This technique succeeded to embody the infamous phrase, "Big Brother is watching you" and saw that the tension and drama exploded into the audience at the dreaded words "You are the dead". I think my mouth actually dropped open in astonishment, even though I had known it was coming. This climatic moment really captured the essence of the novel and is something that I could watch over and over again.
In "the place where there is no darkness", the set was equally as effective, with the luminescent whiteness contrasting horrifically with the blood, causing one engrossed audience member to cry out in shock. Through the excellent use of lighting, sound effects and costume, everyone in the room felt part of Winston's mental and physical experience, to an extent that cannot quite be achieved in a novel.
As well as blood and horror, the play also contained scenes of almost violent sexual passion between Winston and Julia. Although done well, perhaps without the background knowledge of the book, their relationship and consequential commitment to the 'Brotherhood' may have seemed a little rushed. However, to portray such complex ideas about love, trust, freedom and manipulation in only 101 minutes, is no mean feat.
Almost before I knew it, the actors were receiving their well-deserved applause and the lights were coming on again. As I was ushered out of the theatre, I was still reeling from everything I'd seen and felt in great need of a lengthy discussion about the play! Cleverly, the final appearance of the book-group planted in our minds some terrifying questions about our own society, meaning that it was hard not to leave feeling just a little stunned.
Have you seen the play? Read the book? I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a comment below!
Harriet x
