Based on the atrocities of the Anders Breivik Killings in Norway in 2011, The Events follows Claire; a young, gay vicar, as she struggles to come to terms with a killers bloody assaults on a small community choir.
by Becky Graham | 17th October 2013
The stage is simple; bare almost, with a few plastic chairs, a tea urn and a piano, certainly nothing unfamiliar to anyone who has ever stepped foot inside a church hall, but the play is anything but. As Claire struggles to deal with the trauma; to make sense of something, anything that gives meaning to a life which now feels empty in the wake of destruction, we, the audience, watch her slow decent into madness as life; love, faith and meaning are lost to the face of 'The Boy'
The structure of the play is rigorous and demanding, it challenges the audience to find rationality amidst madness; to uncover the narrative in what is, essentially, a sequence of the disassociation's of a trauma patient. Claire leaps from one moment to another as if bouncing between triggers never giving the audience time to work out exactly 'what is'; 'what was', what is memory, what is life and what is disillusion. We are at once drawn into the madness with Claire, lying beside her on the floor as she runs her hands through the blood of the victims whilst, in the same moment, all we can see is tea and the madness that is slowing stealing Claire from reality.
Her realities become so true that understanding those divisions becomes impossible; we know that Claire is going mad but where are we in that? Are we part of it? Or are we watching it? The audience is not, by any stretch, given an easy ride. We see life through Claire's eyes as much as we see Claire through our own. Every relationship, every engagement, every communication; every connection in her life exists solely through the face of 'The Boy', demonstrated by Rudi Dhamalingham's portrayal of every other character, form lover to therapist, in Claire's desperate attempt to find reason where her whole life spirals into confusion of realities where the only thing that matters with any certainty is Him.
His every being eclipses her and with that, she loses everything; her love, her faith; her soul.
The choir, a different choir every night, in their rough and ready, script-in-hand manner, demonstrate an interesting and intrinsic relationship with the audience. Their reactions are as impulsive; unrehearsed and off the cuff as ours, they are, in many ways; us and we, in turn, are them. The suggestion here being; what makes us special? What makes us belong? What makes us any different to anyone else? And the answer? Nothing, which suggests something even more horrific, that; no one is free from tragedy.
As life decays and descends into insanity the only connection to reality and, for Claire, to the soul, comes from the choir’s music. A gentle hum of soothing through the madness. It connects the dots; reminds us of the humanity of life through the harmony of people.
As Claire's struggle turns to anger and violence and abandonment of life, the choir sing and we are reminded that pain has a voice and it is so very alive and that, perhaps, is the only sense Claire can ever make.
The Events is a dramatic exploration of humanity; responsibility and faith, not necessarily the religious kind; but faith in others, faith in ourselves, faith in love and belonging and unity. It is the emptiness left which is the most hard to bear, as the play rejects any usual explanations of atrocity it does, in fact, ask a greater question of the audience, and of society: what role do we play? When we are so quick to place blame and find reason and criticise and condemn anyone who ever stood within 4 feet of the crime; what is our social responsibility? And it is that raw awareness of human darkness that leaves the greatest mark.
A sigh of relief reverberates around the room at the plays end in a work which turns out to be much more about life than it is about death; the message is one of hope, where life prevails amidst a search for meaning in a meaningless world and we, as is Claire, are set free from grips of madness in the knowledge that…sometimes shit just happens.
I met with Neve Mcintosh (Claire) in the cafe of the Young Vic theatre, which is forever bustling with Cool, over a cup of tea and what turned out to be a long rambling conversation about everything from social philosophy to Star Trek (a surprisingly seamless transitioning).
We spoke at length about the play; its many challenges, complexities, the all to real awareness that people "just won't get it", and the questions raised by the very exploration of human nature which it portrays.
The reality is that this is not an easy play, and if you aren’t walking out of the Young Vic questioning some avenue of the meaning of life at the end of it, then you probably haven't got it, and this is exactly what makes it so brilliant. Discussing with Neve, even just a few of those questions, makes you realise the depths of the work as it unfolds in front of you and keeps unfolding for some time after the actors have left the stage and you've been curled up in bed with a hot cup of cocoa. And it is exactly this belief that drives Neve, as an actor, to take on such a challenging role.
Yes, there is a chance that the audience just won't follow what’s happening; won't be able to keep up with the transferring of characters played so seamlessly by Rudi Dhamalingham, won't connect with Claire or understand the relationships around her, but for those of us who do the reward is immeasurable and, it seems, equally for the cast. Having discussed the play for some time it seemed apparent to me, not only, Neve's love and belief in the work but also her delight in knowing that it is understood for all the riches.
She spoke about talking with a psychologist to gain insight into the struggles of patients with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, in order to make those meandering realities sit true. Equally, the importance of laughter and the role of laughter in the play because there is, even in pain, something to laugh about. This, for Neve, may be particularly demonstrated by the ever-changing choir and their relationship with the production as a whole. They are not trained actors, they are as much people off the street as you and I in our audience seats, but they're role is critical. And every night they're reactions, the demand upon them to react in a split second and the words that come out of there mouths when they do is entirely unpredictable and, at times, really quite bizarre.
I felt as if we could have talked for hours, her love for the play is so honest and so delightful and undemanding that it generates an excitement that you never want to end.
But then of course, how could we part ways without discussing Doctor Who? Where Neve plays a lesbian lizard from the dawn of time, accompanied by her wife. We couldn't. An interesting discussion is that of the open portrayal of Homosexuality on mainstream TV these days, which demonstrates a significant shift in societies acceptance of "non-normative" sexual relationships and…in this instance, marriage.
And then, you know, once you start talking about Doctor Who, you do begin that slow descent into geek-dom which can end no other way but in the "all together now" sing-a-long stylings of the theme tune to Star Trek Enterprise. At which point the Cool of the Young Vic theatre is probably beginning to wane, somewhat, on your presence and might at any moment ask you to leave.
The Events is a wonderful, demanding play that, if you get it, will leave you with a vast uplift of morality and a very empty wallet after you have bought tickets for all your friends and family. It is further lifted by the strength of the cast and their complete belief and love for the work itself and if that wasn't enough, its leading lady makes a delicate transition from lady vicar to time travelling lizard woman with unwavering ability and a very, very nice coat.
And that, my friend, is anything but lip service…ok, ok, that was a bit of a push, shall we pretend that didn't happen?
The Events is on at the Young Vic until the 2nd November 2013
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