DanceOff West EndReviews

Review: Sad Book, Hackney Empire

Summary

Rating

Excellent

Sometimes words are not enough. Sad Book articulates so much more in a beautifully performed, emotionally generous interpretation of Michael Rosen’s exquisite writing.

It’s kind of odd to go to the theatre to enjoy a show about grief. It’s bound to be full of wailing and gnashing of teeth, right? But no. The fact is that we all experience grief in our own individual way – possibly in a multitude of ways, and Sad Book demonstrates just that, creating a remarkable space where many types of grieving can unite, becoming understood both uniquely and together.

Michael Rosen‘s exquisite Sad Book was written following the death of his son Eddie at the age of just 18. A lyrical reflection on Rosen’s experience with bereavement, it’s suitable for children and adults in its simplicity, and superbly illustrated by Quentin Blake. It’s a work of art that explores the where and the when of grief – who it belongs to, how and why. Now, led by Artistic Director and Choreographer Andrea Walker, 201 Dance Company brings the story movingly to the stage, enhancing it with additional levels of non-verbal understanding; adding projections and music, with movement and dance giving a corporeal link to the words and compassionately offering it up to a wider, welcoming audience.

On the final night of the tour at Hackney Empire, Rosen himself narrates while his counterpart Michael, performed by Alan Coveney, silently portrays him. The company of dancers beautifully interpret and underscore Rosen’s articulate words as he reads, giving us glimpses of his experience of processing loss. They are costumed in washed out beige, their cardigans echoing Michael’s, which is incongruously red and colourfully alive, and they speak his voiceless torment through their movement.

From the start, there’s an acute sense of the world being disrupted by loss, reflected in the expressive dance work and visuals. At a birthday party, Michael is frozen behind a fixed grin. He looks happy but we’re told is actually sad. Around him, the dancers are at times frenetic, at times in slow motion, triggering layers of memory and recollection. This creates a temporal uncertainty within the narrative that subtly reflects his emotional instability – familiar to many who have experienced grief, and deeply moving.

It’s enormously affective to be in a room with someone exposing their vulnerability so generously and this reaches an excruciating zenith when Michael strips to his underwear and steps into a downlight, beneath which he is drenched in water: he’s screaming silently in the shower and we understand the searing drama of his everyday existence alongside emotional pain, and its intrusive domesticity.

The dance too is generous in its contribution, threading a path through the performance, but never overwhelming the main focus of the central figure. Ranging from erratic to grotesquely distorted suffering, there are also moments of utter beauty: a solo dance with an umbrella in the rain juxtaposes with the agony, elevating the atmosphere to an unexpectedly bittersweet joyousness.

Simple imagery is used powerfully. A framed photograph makes Eddie present in his absence while humorously playful chalk figures, animated alongside Michael’s writing, remind us of the joy of his continued existence in memory. The huge projection work never detracts from the human performance, instead sympathetically extending and giving form to unspeakable emotion. The whole is made otherworldly by dramatic haze and disruptive lighting which is unexpectedly side on, or strobing as Michael’s breakdown becomes uncontrollable. It’s accompanied by a wonderfully textured and affective soundtrack that is often palpable, resonating through the auditorium and our bodies.

A powerfully dramatic production this may be, but Sad Book also achieves much more than the sum of its parts. It carves out an uncommon but much needed emotional space to discuss grief and gives permission to unashamedly share how bereavement can be, whatever that is for each individual.



You can read more about the production in our recent interview with Artistic Director and Choreographer Andrea Walker.

For resources and support visit www.childbereavementuk.org

Writer and Live Narration by: Michael Rosen
Director and Choreography by: Andrea Walker
Produced by: Natalie Alison
Associate Director: Patrick Collier
Assistant Choreography by: Michaela Cisarikova
Music by: Richard Evans, Angela Pollodk, Barney Morse Brown, Simon ‘Palmskin’ Richmond
Production and Lighting Design by: Louisa Smurthwaite
Projection Design for Really Creative Media by: Jack Fox, Louise Rhoades-Brown
Animators: Liu Bofan, Harriet Bruce, Louise Rhoades-Brown
Lighting Programmer: Robert Price
Lighting by: Christie Lites

Sad Book has completed its current run.

Mary Pollard

By her own admission Mary goes to the theatre far too much, and will watch just about anything. Her favourite musical is Matilda, which she has seen 17 times, but she’s also an Anthony Neilson and Shakespeare fan - go figure. She has a long history with Richmond Theatre, but is currently helping at Shakespeare's Globe in the archive. She's also having fun being ET's specialist in children's theatre and puppetry! Mary now insists on being called The Master having used the Covid pandemic to achieve an award winning MA in London's Theatre and Performance.

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