Requiem
Within the confines of St Andrew's, there was something about this huge, alien edifice appearing that was akin to childhood memories of the Hintze Hall of the Natural History Museum. Was this a dinosaur, or perhaps a whale?
I first became acquainted with the theatre group Kaleider over ten years ago, when I attended The Money, a disquieting immersive show that involved debating, and sometimes arguing, over what to do with a pile of money, that money being the cash the audience paid to take part. It was the sort of high-concept show that enfant terribles Ontroerend Goed would have liked to have thought of first. It's also a testament to the production's strengths that I remember it so clearly, albeit uncomfortably. I had to apologise for shouting down my friend, after which a fellow participant quite accurately commented that I had taken it upon myself to take charge, and yet had contributed no ideas.
Ouch.
It was with considerable anticipation, therefore, that I entered the newly refurbished St Andrew's Hall, to see what they've been up to of late. It was also an excuse to see how money of a very different magnitude has been spent. In fairness, most of the £7m+ went on repair and restoration, so for the most part it looks much the same, though the swish new gender-neutral toilets will turn a few heads.
Returning to the matter in hand, what confronted the audience was seating in the round, at the centre of which was what could be ungenerously described as a pile of scaffolding poles. Shiny, posh-looking poles, but poles nonetheless. There was just time enough to ponder the various clamps and pulley systems attached, before four performers - not really an adequate word but it will have to do - appeared and set to work assembling an, as yet, undefined structure.
As someone who considers themselves a practical person, I say without irony or sarcasm, that I could watch scaffolding being erected all day long, second only to the thrill of erecting it yourself. I may therefore not be the best judge of its broader appeal, but I found the process of construction fascinating. Accompanied by an almost subliminal musical backdrop that I initially confused with noise from outside, the four participants - is that a better word? - diligently went about their business. Invited to walk around the emerging structure, it was the teamwork involved that impressed. The precision required to manhandle the components turned art into craft into engineering.
I understand the company is keen to perform Requiem outside but while I can see appropriate venues might be limited I think that would be a mistake. Within the confines of St Andrew's, there was something about this huge, alien edifice appearing that was akin to childhood memories of the Hintze Hall of the Natural History Museum. Was this a dinosaur, or perhaps a whale? Something in between? As the music swelled, construction was completed and the final theatrical masterstroke was played out.
I'm reluctant to spell out exactly what happened next. If you're reading this with a view to attending a performance, the big reveal is worth keeping a surprise. I will say that all those pulleys, ropes, water bottles and hinges I'd been wondering about did eventually make sense. As the music fell away it was replaced by a resonant sound that unnervingly complemented what we were seeing. I'd also add that the physical effort required of the performers served as a metaphor for the abiding message, which I took to be that all things must end. But that's all you're getting from me - go seek out the performance for yourself, keeping in mind that this was, after all, a requiem.
