CIVILISATION - AT THE JUNCTION
The loss of a loved one and ensuing grief stir emotions that are far from mundane. And yet, we experience them through the everyday. Though the agony of loss cannot be displaced, the dishes still have to washed, the breakfast made, the daily routine of dressing and undressing completed. This clash of the quotidian with the enormity of separation is the theme of Civilisation. The result of an award-winning collaboration between director/writer Jaz Woodcock-Stewart and choreographer Morgann Runacre-Temple, the show which has come from the Edinburgh Fringe via Bristol to the Junction leaves you with a mixed jumble of emotions. It is a powerful mix of what is now called ‘theatrical realism’ and the creative fantasy of dance.
The action, if that is what it is, begins with a solitary character; a young woman played by Caroline Moroney. She is busily doing the necessary things in life; putting on makeup, drying her long hair, dressing, ignoring a phone call. All this is done in real time. It takes ages. As does real life. The slow pace gives us the chance to observe the busy stage: the bed, a crammed clothes rail, a working table piled high with papers, a small kitchen and significantly, a collection of freshly arranged flowers. The music of ABBA blares out and eventually, in what seems an age, the actor is joined by three dancers. They play a pivotal role as echoes of her psyche, spectres from her inner world. Slowly we begin to realise that the unnamed woman is preparing to go to a funeral. She dons a black dress and fascinator. Not a word is spoken only the thudding soundtrack.
There is something utterly mesmeric in the timing of the piece. We observe a woman in grief; a partner most probably. There is anger, there is pain but there is the mundanity of carrying on: porn and Dragon’s Den on the laptop, a stupid game of Bop It with a friend. All the while the ghostly trio in precision synch leap, contort and dance their way from her thoughts – they are wonderful dancers and the contrast between their fluid world and the heavy weight of grief make for a constantly changing and endlessly fascinating experience.
There are moments of comedy – she cannot take off her funeral dress as the missing partner’s fingers that would have lowered the zip are gone forever. She is left floundering like some beached creature. Never sentimental or melodramatic, the glimpses into the woman’s inner world feel almost intrusive, so powerful is the setting. We sense her anger at the disappearance of a lover whose traces in the clothes he has left, or his scent on the bedsheets cannot be erased.
Civilisation was what all great theatre should be about: posing questions, holding up that famous mirror and reflecting back on our lives. If it comes back to Cambridge, go see it.
All images: Alex Brenner
