Theatre Review #1: TANZ

I’m almost late for my first theatre review, as I shake out my brolly at Battersea Arts Centre’s box office, whilst picking up my press ticket for TANZ by Florentina Holzinger.

There’s a jar of earplugs on the desk, almost empty. 


A chill-out space is also available, should things all get a bit much. 


I down half a glass of complimentary wine on my way to the Grand Hall, which burned down on my 37th birthday, but has since been restored to better than her former glory.  


Max sits next to me. Max is also a reviewer¹, and hands me a flyer for her forthcoming book². I ask her how long a theatre review ought to be, and she says 300-500 words. 


I’ve almost already written that much, I tell Max, as the lights dim.


Coincidentally 300-500 is also the number of people that are sitting in this very full room. A voice announces: 


“WELCOME TO TONTS" 


Which answers my pronunciation question. 


The stage is expansive and white. 


A piñata hangs from the ceiling, alongside lots of suspicious rigging. 


Some cereal is spilt on the floor. There are six buckets.


What appear to be bloodstains pattern the vertical rear of the auditorium.


Lots more will be thrown at the wall tonight. Almost all of it will stick. 


The general setup reminds me of a show I twice saw almost exactly ten years ago called Splat!³, which had quite a transformative effect on my life in several different ways.


I put this recollection down to my inability to enjoy things without comparing them to other things. 


A very French ballerina is wearing a flesh-coloured microphone and little else. Her elasticated mic pack makes it look as if she has a black-belt in ballet. 


Her microphone is picking up quite a lot of saliva noise, which I know can upset some people, but tonight this will be the least of their problems. 


She instructs the rest of the cast in a romantic ballet class. The lesson becomes more prurient, before a roving camera, capturing increasingly vulvic closeups, is turned upon the audience.


I spot Veronica Thompson limbering up at the side of the stage. 


The other nine naked dancers I do not know. 


BAC is a relaxed venue⁴, and 30 minutes after the show begins a woman walks in with a pizza. I am sure this isn’t part of the show because she is fully clothed. 


Thom from The Lipsinkers shows up at 8:35pm. Torrential rain this evening has caused transport chaos in south London. A nude woman with a red broom runs past Thom. 


There’s also a cauldron onstage, and it was Halloween yesterday, so I wonder if these witchy elements may have been added especially. I’ll have to see the show twice to be sure. 


Thom manages to find a seat, and other latecomers will continue to arrive until 8:45pm. 


Veronica joins the cast onstage, and together they form a human pyramid. 


There follows a brief flying sequence.

 

Suddenly everyone is masturbating, possibly including some of the audience. 


I’m too busy scribbling notes, in a homemade notepad so as to avoid using my phone. It’s very dark though, so I have no idea if any of this will be lalgebral. 


Veronica is placed into a magic box, and transforms into a baby. I suspect this might be autobiographical.


Tonight is the UK premiere of a show which has very recently been performed to great applause in Kyoto, as well as selling out theatres in cities across Europe for the past three years, which, in a cynical attempt to pad my word-count, I shall now list:


Vienna, Ghent, Lausanne, Madrid, Berlin, Ludwigshafen, Aarhus, Warsaw, Athens, Hannover, Utrecht, Rotterdam, Basel, Hamburg, Düsseldorf, Brussels, Frankfurt, Antwerp, Munich, and Ljubljana. 


By the time you read this TANZ will have already completed a further run in Stockholm. 


These three nights in London have already sold out, which I hope means it was a worthwhile risk by BAC. It’s an ambitious show to stage, and even with a triple full house they likely still won’t make a profit, based on some guesstimates I just did in my head.


Veronica is now hanging by her hair, spinning in circles in the air. 


I’ve seen her do this before, but am no less impressed. 


She is small but powerful, like the trimtab of an ocean liner. 


Two motorbikes hang from the ceiling, their headlights on.


“Let’s take a little break to reflect.”


The audience laughs as Florentina Holzinger (known colloquially as Flo) addresses the audience for the first time. She reminds us that this is a relaxed performance and that we can go for a toilet/bar break if we like.


There are a few walkouts, but Flo literally just asked for it. 


I shall be taking no toilet or bar break. For you, my readers.


Flo asks rhetorical questions. 


Max nods, as she asks if anyone has ever taken a dance class.


Flo pays a quick tribute to the Queen.


I laugh the most when Flo invites an audience member to live in a forest she’s started in Austria.


Her monologue concludes:


“I want to give you a little thank you, which is a dance.”


The 1992 dance anthem Are You Ready To Fly by Rozalla plays, as the stage begins to fill with smoke. 


It’s the end of Act 1. 



[READERS, PLEASE FEEL TO TAKE A TOILET BREAK]



Act 2 contains, among other things, a wolf costume, rodent dildonics, a gaming chair, and the instrumental version of the Ghostbusters theme.


There’s a lot to unpack, but, before we get the chance, cabaret star and erstwhile karaoke host Lucifire has two hooks carefully inserted into the fleshiest parts of her back, before being suspended in the air like a glorious piece of meat.


The audience cry:


OH! 


AH!


NO! 


and 


OH GOD!


Maybe BAC should have provided a jar of eye plugs. 


This is a bit like something from Glasgow in the noughties¹, I think, as a woman is carried down the stairs beside me and out of the emergency exit, perhaps to the chill-out space. I see another man fall to the floor, face first. 


The faintings have begun.


I wonder if they’ll be serving Bloody Marys in the bar afterwards, as spectators continue to drop like flies. 


The still-conscious section of the audience gives Lucifire a cautious applause, which feels a bit salacious.


The Crazy Frog theme plays, as a cast member smashes the piñata, which may or may not represent the patriarchy.


“We have done a lot today”.


Flo says, bursting the tension. The audience laugh, partly in relief.


135 minutes after the show began, I feel more like a war correspondent than a theatre reviewer.


We have been thwacked by the visceral, and some of us may never be the same.


It’s been an immense and maximalist show, and I’d like to see it again, but not tonight please. 


I’m on the aisle, so I quickly exit the Grand Hall after the third standing O¹¹, to check the demeanour of the departing crowd.


The audience exit looking pretty pallid, although many of them looked that way beforehand, and this might partly be to do with it being Halloween. 


“I’ve never seen anything like it!” 


exclaims a woman at the bar, clearly shellshocked.


Meanwhile the atmosphere in the gents is very subdued. 


I ask my friend Katy if TANZ reminded her a little bit of anything, and she immediately said Splat!


We reminisce about how difficult that show had been to tour, and decry that UK artists no longer have access to the kind of European funding structures that have made TANZ possible.


But Katy and I are old and have seen too much. 


For many of the audience it seems to have been a life-changing experience.


This year Battersea Arts Centre won The Stage Magazine’s Theatre of the Year award, and it’s because of impressive work like TANZ that they will continue to receive acclaim. 


I applaud BAC for bringing this complicated and multi-genre show to the UK. There’s clearly demand for more dates, and maybe next time BAC could partner with an even bigger auditorium, such as the Royal Opera House.


Back in the bar someone hugs Lucifire, who winces slightly, but evidently has thick skin.


I hang around (not by the hair) to buy Veronica a congratulatory drink, before skipping into the night to see if the trains are working, the impact of this physically accomplished spectacular continuing to be felt long after I finish this sentence. 


That was en pointe.




TL;DR


This show contains cunning stunts.


























FOOTNOTES


1. totaltheatre.org.uk/archive/reviews/richard-dedomenici-did-priya-pathak-ever-get-her-wallet-back

2. strangeattractor.greedbag.com/buy/mcxjqd

3. thefamousomg.com/splat

4. bac.org.uk/relaxed-venue

5. thelipsinkers.com

6. theargus.co.uk/leisure/stage/15509687.fancy-chance-from-abandoned-orphan-to-cabaret-star

7. londontheatredirect.com/musical/la-soiree-tickets

8. wikipedia.org/wiki/Trim_tab#As_a_metaphor

9. youtube.com/watch?v=m_7aw3o9yvk

10. liveartscotland.org/wp-content/uploads/Richard-DeDomenici-Live-Art-in-Scotland-version-2.pdf

11. Ovation, not orgasm



ENDNOTES 


TANZ is the third part of a trilogy.


Find out more about the previous two works here


Flo’s new show Ophelia’s Got Talent is on in Berlin until December 22nd, and has a helicopter in it. 


TANZ credits here


Richard DeDomenici is an olive-skinned, penis-owning theatre reviewer and performance artist of mostly southern European descent, who is usually granted full white privileges. 


In the interests of full disclosure Richard DeDomenici has worked with Battersea Arts Centre on several previous projects


The PR who invited Richard to review the show sang vocals on aa record Richard once made.


Veronica Thompson and Richard have collaborated on a diverse array of collaborations


Richard did not get paid for this review. 


Veronica Thompson will soon appear in Killing Eve: Redux


This is Richard’s first and possibly last theatre review. To commission Richard to review your show, contact:





To write a review of this review, use the comments section below. 

Red Signal

I've been stuck in the Primrose Hill railway tunnel for an hour after a person was hit by a train on the approach to Euston.

Someone found mobile phone signal between the carriages and now everyone is crammed in there. It's like the rush for the holy grail.

If we're still here in the morning I'm going to curate a live art festival.

#VestibuleFestival

Meanwhile I'm eyeing up the luggage racks as a place to sleep.

Passengers sitting several carriages away are making the pilgrimage to the magical vestibule, having heard rumours.

People that don't need to use are moving to the rear of the train.

"I'm taking up valuable signal space!"

On of them declares, as he moves to the rear of the train.

"I've got Twitter!" someone says, and everyone looks around, predatorily.

I am not the only one taking pictures of everyone frantically tapping their phones screens.

Soon someone might launch a prison break, although I suspect the tunnel walls will make that tricky.

A woman who clearly has something more important to do than anyone else on the train is getting melodramatic.

Claustrophobia is setting in.

The toilet still works though, and doesn't smell yet.

I have a bottle of Rakija in my pocket.

People are holding their phones up to ceiling.

The first person to use the term 'jumper' is an arsenal fan who has all his friends' tickets for the match that starts in 40 minutes.

Lots of people on the train have football tickets for other people, and those that can get a signal are getting into trouble with friends and colleagues.

The train was already standing room only, but now the front vestibule, where I was standing already, is reminiscent of the moshpit at a Die Antwoord gig.

The normally dark vestibule is now bathed in the soft glow of myriad OLEDs.

The mood has relaxed since the miraculous vestibule wormhole  was discovered, but people still might start eating each other soon.

I'm going to save the bottle of Serbian alcohol in my pocket, in case I need to barter it with someone.

The driver says there is light at the end of the tunnel, which I think is a metaphor, as it should almost definitely still be dark outside.

A train passes us, in the opposite direction! It's the first sign of life from the outside world for 75 mins.

A man asks a woman if he can read the magazine on her table, she turns it over and says 'yes, but it's a copy of Women's Health'.

The man declines the magazine.

A minute later I ask to read the magazine, adding:

"I may as well use this time as an opportunity for personal growth."

People laugh, unaware that it took me a whole minute to formulate the sentence, because I am a bit jetlagged.

We're moving!

"I've never been so happy for a long time."

Says a lady next to me.

I immediately feel sorry for her, but maybe I should feel sorry for myself.

If anything it was nice to to have some time without phone signal to do some writing.

I'm proud that I didn't resort to alcohol though.

I exit the train and imeeduately purchase a can of gin and tonic.

CARD CLASH

In February 2014 London Underground launched a new campaign highlighting the issue of 'Card Clash':



Here's a poster about Card Clash spotted at Aldgate East:










































Predictably, the issue is causing outrage on Twitter: 

On my recent visit to Royal Holloway University I discovered that the Information Security Group has a long and proud history of world-class research into all areas of information and cyber security, and boasts the dedicated Smart Card Centre, conducting specific research in this field. 

I decided that Card Clash would be an excellent topic for my stall at the Alternative Science Fete

Current TfL advice is to separate contactless payment cards into separate wallets, which may not always be practical. 

Instead I will invite Fete visitors to make their own prototype Anti-Card Clash wallets, from gaffer tape and tin foil, designed to shield other contactless cards from one's Oyster, thereby reducing the chances of Card Clash.



















We will utilise a selection of child-friendly gaffer tapes: 





And have an RFID reader on hand, with which to test the efficacy of the wallets.

See you there! 

Saturday March 1st, 10am - 4pm, Founders Dining Hall, Royal Holloway University. 

UPDATE: Here's some footage from the day: 





Alternative Science Fete 2014

I recently made a visit to Royal Holloway University in the non-underwater part of Egham: 


I met with Professor Keith Martin and John Hart from the Information Security Group1

Here is a picture of Keith: 























Keith had a model of the Petronas Towers on top of his bookshelf:


























along with a impressive array of Lucite Slabs2.























The ISG are big fans of QR codes at the Information Security department, which made me happy because so am I.

Anyway, based on my visit to the ISG and some subsequent research I devised an idea for the Alternative Science Fete3...



ENDNOTES

1. Not to be confused with the Information Security Department, which is part of the Isreali Defence Force's Directorate of Military Intelligence.

2. The term 'Lucite Slab' is a reference to Douglas Coupland's 1995 epistolatory novel Microserfs.

3. That's an unusual spelling of my name, Time Out.


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t
 Test.
r

It's quite apt that the RoboCop world premiere coincided with a tube strike..

It's quite apt that the RoboCop world premiere:



















coincided with a tube strike, as both concern the mechanisation of public services and the crushing of the human spirit.. #RoboBob