Wed 28 Mar
words: MAB JONES
★★★☆☆
The year is 2050 and Wales is the last remaining Celtic country under Westminter. Scotland and Northern Ireland, having won independence, struggle now to regain their economic strength, while Wales itself struggles beneath the totalitarian regime of its English masters.
Based on the Welsh mythical tale Branwen, White Crow promises politics and power play, and delivers an impressive opening, at least visually: riot police are mounted on the stairs within the theatre space and stand, soldier-like, as we take our seats. A chorus of crows (actors in black, wearing beak-like masks) add to the stark scene. And by beginning with a death (the funeral of a parent), we are given an effective dramaturgy: from this end comes a new beginning, the start of our own journey as an audience as we engage with that of Branwen and her siblings.
However, after that strong start, I found myself becoming swiftly less engaged with the piece. Perhaps the difficulty with a re-working of any tale from the Mabinogi is that those stories are extemely fast-paced. Here, too, I found the same, but the overly-swift scene changes, combined with a distinct lack of monolgue and rather mundane dialogue, left me wondering at many of the characters’ motivations. The overarching politcal ‘rightness’ was not enough to engage me – I wanted to empathise with the characters themselves. When one protagnist sleeps with his friend’s wife, for instance, there had been no build-up at all to this, and the arbitrary action, despite some emotive acting, was not enough to make me feel anything for the pair. The only thing I got from the quick scene jumps, the abrupt changes in lighting, and the intermittent politcal shouting, was a headache.
I was also diappointed by the fact that even in 2050 the main female character should be left doing all the cooking by/for her male siblings… A future in which Wales fights for independence but women are tied (re-tied?)to the kitchen sink isn’t one I’d beparticularly happy to see.
However, the direction was well-done, with the murder of crows being made up of actors who took part in the action at various points, and who also delivered some nifty scenery changes. The parallels implied with the recent Occupy movement, too, were interesting. But, beyond that, I felt that the potential of the play was never fully realised and the talent of some of the actors let down by an often stolid script.
White Crow continues at The Gate until Sat 2 Mar. Info: 029 2048 3344 / www.thegate.org.uk