By moonshine and a sober mind

One of the best things about London is the theatre scene, and one of the best things about theatre here is how each theatre venue has its own unique character and adds to the entire experience of theatre-going. This evening, i went to a pub theatre for the first time.

Considering the fact that i’ve never been to a pub in my life, getting a ticket to a pub theatre was kind of a big deal. But it was Shakespeare’s Hamlet, and it was an all-male cast in full costume, and it’s Shakespeare 400, and the concession ticket was only £10, and a pub theatre sounds so quintessentially London, so of course i had to.

As a newcomer in London, part of the experience of the venue of theatre is also simply getting there. This time, the Bread & Roses Theatre is the upstairs space of Bread & Roses Pub, between Clapham North and Clapham Common tube stations. I’d not been to either, and they’re a good 10-12 stations away from King’s Cross St Pancras.  I had the presence of mind to have dinner on my own rather than hope to eat dinner alone in a pub before watching the show, so at least i made the journey with a relatively full belly. It had started raining before i even left, and for a good minute or so, i seriously considered giving the show a miss altogether, especially as the rain seemed to get heavier and the sky was dark by 6.30pm.

But since i had little else better to do, and because yolo, i set off anyway. By the time i got to Clapham Common, i knew i was in a different sort of place. The station was small, serving just one line. The trains headed to and from the two directions stopped on two sides of the same narrow platform — something i haven’t seen at all in London. When i got out of the station and started walking towards my pub theatre, it struck me how it was rather dark, especially after i turned left off the main road from the tube station and went down a smaller road past a residential area. There were just two other restaurants that broke the nervous monotony of darkness and silence, but they looked like respectable restaurants, just as the neighbourhood did. It is quite fascinating to know that it is possible to have a good feeling about a neighbourhood even in the dark.

As expected, by the time i got to the pub, i had shrivelled into an antisocial nut, so i speed-read my way past the warm light, bustling conversations and a busy bar counter, up a small flight of steps with the word “THEATRE” emblazoned above a door, and slipped into an ajar door that opened into a small room with a suitably small platform for a stage, and some chairs. There was an older couple in there, with a younger lady seated one chair away. They all smiled and nodded hello as i went in, and i finally breathed with some relief as i slinked into a chair.

It was a small room, and warm. But that was part of the draw of a pub theatre; apparently the idea began when theatre and performance groups started thinking about going to spaces were crowds already gathered, rather than trying to entice crowds to spaces specially created for theatre/performance. I think it’s a brilliant idea, and i love seeing how these performance groups — theatre in particular — work with the space that they have, making adjustments here and there to make the best of the space, tap on all its affordances, while keeping to the integrity of their performance.

Tonight’s performance by The Festival Players was a great example of that. The room sat about 30 of us quite comfortably, but we filled almost all the space. There was simple (but strategically used) lighting, a narrow aisle between the two blocks of chairs, and raised platform of about 5 by 3 metres. To the left of the stage was the door that opened in — literally a room door that we might have at home. That door was left ajar throughout the entire performance, and the space outside that door was a narrow and short corridor, along which was the staircase leading to the pub downstairs. The group had created a sort of backstage by putting up a screen on the left of the raised platform, so that actors could slip in through the door from the corridor outside and either enter from behind the screen and further back on stage, or walk up the stage right through the door. That simple screen also made the transitions between scenes flawlessly smooth, as actors moved on and off stage without missing a beat.

This being an all-male cast, just as in Shakespeare’s time, it was interesting to see how the men played female characters. There was no need to put on a strange high-pitched voice, but simply from the demeanour, movement and gestures of the character, it didn’t seem so strange at all that this body in a gown and hair accessories had a really hairy forearm, yet was clearly portraying a womanly character. Jonny James-Jones playing Ophelia reminded me so much of Eddie Redmayne, and it was quite something that he was as convincing playing fair Ophelia as he was chivalrous and cheeky playing Rosencrantz. The couple other actors who doubled up as different characters were also excellent in their portrayal of each, not to mention the speed with which they pulled on or off a cloak, a gown, or a ruffled collar.

The music in this production was also excellent. There was someone — presumably one of the actors — playing the guitar really well as everyone else sang beautifully along the corridor just outside the door. At suitable points a single drum was sounded. At the beginning of the play, as when the king summons anyone, a trumpet sounded its clarion call. The singing and harmonising on stage when it happened was also lovely. The set was simple: a painted backdrop of tapestry, and an oblong box in front of it that was used both a the throne of the new King of Denmark, Claudius, as well as a grave and casket of poor Ophelia. Quite apt in the context of this play.

We sat just a couple of metres away from the action on stage: we saw the actors’ tears, the perspiration, the spit flying as the scene got heated; we heard every whisper, every tremor in the voice, every thud of an angry word and gesture. Hearing the lines out loud, fluently spoken in conversation, truly made the words of Shakespeare come alive. The first hour flew by, and during the intermission i decided to go downstairs to the pub and see if i could get a coke or ginger beer or something,  but by the time i went down and did some awkward pacing i lost heart and went back upstairs again after nicking a programme booklet. The second half flew by too. It is possibly the first time i’m seeing a Shakespearean play acted out like that, and for a stage as small as this one, the (often somewhat ridiculous) deaths of the characters seemed so real and almost sad. I would like to see how “Exit, pursued by a bear” could be enacted on stage like this.

I thought this Hamlet a little less stately than i had imagined him, and some parts put me off a little for how mocking he was in a somewhat childish way. But his madness and pain were certainly well-captured. In a space as small as this, it was hard to be disengaged, especially when the play also captured a play within a play, and the characters spoke right at us, with the actors looking right into our eyes. I liked how, after taking their bow, the actors went right off and made no address to the audience. I had expected something since it was the very last night of their year’s tour, and the very last time they are putting up this play. But part of me was glad that they didn’t break the fourth wall further than they already did as part of the show; it would have been a little too much for me.

The audience was a mixed group that felt somewhat familiar to me, and in them i found something i related to, even though they were all clearly a lot more at home in a pub than i was. At least they all managed to get drinks and some even food. It was also nice that they were friendly, and i also really like being at shows with older couples who are so kind and so smiley.

By the end of the show i headed out right away, ready to brisk-walk to the tube station. The air was crisp and the night quiet, but the road was now well-lit by the light of the moon. The sky had cleared, and the almost full moon shone brightly ahead of me, lighting up the entire street with moonshine. So that’s how i got back. And here i am, sitting at my desk having some crisps and cider belatedly, because it feels like only then can the experience tonight be complete. I’m glad i went tonight!