Youngswain

I’m one of eight writers taking part in BBC Writers Academy 2012. If you were here, I’d chest bump you. That’s how excited I am. I don’t even know you and I’m willing to chest bump you. That’s excited.

I’m currently working on a stage play for the National Youth Theatre, which will be performed at the Old Vic Tunnels in Waterloo from 25 August – 17 September. Our Days of Rage is written in response to the protests in North Africa, Middle East and Middle England and marks the tenth anniversary of 9/11. It’s part of the NYT’s 2011 Summer Season “Fear, Faith and Fundamentalism.”

Here’s the link to a review of a play I wrote called “Man and Wife.” It was performed at the Rag Factory on May 31 as part of a short play night by new company, Press Play Theatre – “Random Stories About the End of Everything.”

Image Courtesy of Thomas Hawk (2005) on Flickr.com

Look at you, like a black bird. Dark gosling, grace is your song. Look at you. Arms up like you’re drowning in a frozen pirouette. Black spider leg eyes, your mouth is a gash. Look at you, just look at you. I don’t even like Chinese food. Prawn crackers, dim sum, sweet souring soups. The noodles. I hate noodles. Piled like string, a woven mess on my plate. You knew that, but it’s where we went. They slithered like worms down my throat, wrapped round my heart and made me love you. Look at you. You turn like I’m spinning you on my fork.

You don’t know I’m here, do you? You don’t even know I’m here, standing with my nose against the glass, watching you spiral like sycamore down, down, down and round, up and away, like you’re blowing away. Up! Like a bird, but then your feet hit the ice like stone. I take a step back. My breath fogs the window. I rub it away. Prints on the glass. You don’t even know I’m here. Look at you. The way you move, it’s art. I’d hang it upon a wall, stare at it. You glide through me, slice through the day, cutting time like your feet on ice. Out there you’re wonderful. In here I’m cold.

I look up at the roof because of the wet round my eyes. It slides down my cheeks like tar. I am a waxwork. I am cold. A wickless candle, I burn no more. I blink, I don’t even know what they mean. Those words., the ones you twist and circle beneath. I don’t understand them. I don’t understand you. Black crayon crosshatch, their meanings drawn like blinds around you. They could say anything. I Love You. Goodbye. The End. But you don’t know I’m here, do you? You don’t know I’m here.

The lines, they talk about the lines and yours are straight as an arrow. You shoot through the air, like you’re not even there, don’t even bend it. Look at you. Just look at you. I can barely see your face you’re moving so fast, but I know its smile, curved like the edge of a spoon, tipped towards me, waiting to catch the drops. There’s not a line on your face. Tight like a drum, it’s the beat my heart runs to. You break me open like a cracker. Read your fortune and I wasn’t it. I’m in the crumbs round your place mat. You scrunched it into a ball and left it on your plate, balled like my fists were under the table. When I opened them after there was blood on my palms, red little kisses that said I’m still alive.

You used to introduce me as yours. This is my, you said and then my name. You own me. I am yours.  Your laughter bought me, but now it shatters like glass in my ear as you laugh with the waitress. I don’t know what you’re saying. I can’t understand you. You don’t explain.

I look up just in time to watch you fall, your toe sticks in the ice like a pick. Look at you. Just look at you. You lie there like a torn tattered flag. You dip your head. I can’t see your face, but I know that frown, corrugated like iron, cast me away. I leave. You see me go. You never knew I was here, did you? You never knew I was here.

I’m now represented by Julie Press at Macfarlane Chard Associates Ltd for all TV, Radio and Theatre commissions.  For all corporate enquires please contact me directly. Click on the Where to Reach Me tab for more details.

Image courtesy of pmarkham (2009) on Flickr.com

Well I did exactly what people tell writers not to do – I read the reviews. Turns out, the reviews for my first stage play “Demolition in Progress” were fine. Four stars fine, in fact. You can read the full Remote Goat review here and below:

Review of Cab Ride and Demolition in Progress

by Matthew Partridge

Cab Ride ****

Demolition in Progress ****

“KDC Double Bill hits the mark”

As well as being recognised as being one of the “Big Three” London fringe companies, KDC Theatre is a well-known promoter of new writing. Thanks to the organisation skills of Andy Marchant (who also helped out with the lighting on both shows) KDC regularly organises double bills of one-act plays most seasons. In addition they regularly run round-table reading sessions, where new work is read out and critiqued before being added to the stock of potential plays. I therefore approached their latest effort, held at the Baron’s Court Theatre in West Kensington, with anticipation, and I am pleased to say that I was not disappointed.

Cab Ride, written by Nick Mouton and directed by James Steer (assisted by Gundega Lapsa), is a play about a cab journey from London to Newcastle. Like the audience, Tom (played by Yasir Senna) is initially perplexed by Richard’s (Arthur Zacharais) mode of transport. As Tom puts it “taking the train or flying there would be faster and cheaper”. Indeed, Tom initially suspects this is either a scam or a prank asking “have you hidden some cameras in my cab?” However, as the play develops, we learn that both men have experienced pain and loss in their lives, with Tom’s marriage to Susan (Jenny Kilcast) nearly collapsing after a stillbirth and Richard’s relationship with Alice (Denna Gibbons) becoming the casualty of a promotion.

James Steer manages to find a balance between realism and pace. The minimalist set, with four chairs representing the cab seats, works well and enables a sense of realism to be maintained during the rapid scene changes. At the same time, the director is unafraid to let the two main characters occasionally wander around during some of the cab scenes, preventing them becoming too static without damaging the central illusion. Although the costumes and props are also low-key they still manage to contribute a sense of authenticity.

Although each of the four actors delivers strong performances, Yasir and Jenny are the most memorable, especially in the scenes where they are together. Indeed, the immediate aftermath of the death of their son James is easily the most poignant moment of the whole production, while their first meeting in Tom’s cab crackles with chemistry. However, this shouldn’t be read as a criticism of the two other pairings. Denna and Arthur manage to effectively convey the transition from domestic bliss to mutual loathing, while the central duo of Arthur and Yasir work well together. Overall, “Cab Ride” is a very strong production.

The second half of the duo, Kirstie Swain’s short play “Demolition in Progress”, directed by Chloe Moffat, is also a success. Set in a council flat that is scheduled for demolition, the tone quickly moves from comic to sinister, as Marie (Caitlin Homes) turns out to be more ruthless, than her husband Billie (Clive Eliot) in her plans to stop the council inspector Jamie (Ronan Fitzgerald) from persuading them to abandon their apartment. Indeed, during the course of the play we learn that this isn’t the first time Marie has taken things too far, with Billie’s broken leg the result of a previous outburst.

Clive gives the standout performance of the production as the cantankerous Billie, whose resolution to stay put in “my own home” dissolves into disgust at his wife’s psychopathic disregard for human life. Similarly, Ronan deserves praise for his portrayal of a harassed council bureaucrat, in a role that finished with his body literally exploding into convulsions as the effect of drain cleaner and torture finally caused his body to collapse. Even though Caitlin could have imparted her character with a bit more malevolence and presence, she was solid and managed to gain both laughs and gasps from the audience.

The production team, including stage manager Kiers Newman and assistant director Victor Crave, also deserve credit for an approach to props and costumes which saw the stage of the Baron’s Court Theatre convincingly transformed into the cosy front room of a council flat in a matter of minutes during the interval. The team should also be credited with adding years to both of them (and a broken to Clive).

Overall, the latest KDC double bill is worth watching.

Image courtesy of Melinda Seckington (2008) on Flickr.com

Remember Brian Connolly? No relative of Billy, Jennifer or Maureen and famed for having a toy badger, saying the words “it’s a puppet” being generally very annoying on Saturday night TV. No? Anyway, I wrote an article for creative site IdeasTap recently about puppetry for adults. The jist of it was that puppet’s aren’t just for children.  It’s not all about Punch, Judy and Rainbow…and if you’ve seen the alternative Rainbow episodes on YouTube then maybe it’s just as well. Go on then, I know you want to watch one of them….it’s here. Anyway, you can read my article about adult puppetry here - and there’s not a muppet in sight.

I’ve also written articles for IdeasTap about Radical Choirs, Guerilla Art and the Sitcom Mission.