Review: Gregory Crewdson: Cathedral of the Pines

 Cathedral of the Pines is really quite something. Exploring Gregory Crewdson's mysterious and deeply narrative body of work, this is the collection's first UK exhibition.

 The Photographers' Gallery - Cathedral of the Pines' current home - say:

With this series, produced between 2013 and 2014, Crewdson departs from his interest in uncanny suburban subjects and explores human relations within more natural environments. In images that recall nineteenth-century American and European paintings, Crewdson photographs figures posing within the small rural town of Becket, Massachusetts, and its vast surrounding forests, including the actual trail from which the series takes its title. Interior scenes charged with ambiguous narratives probe tensions between human connection and separation, intimacy and isolation.

Crewdson describes this project as ‘his most personal’, venturing to retrieve in the remote setting of the forest, a reminiscence of his childhood. The images in Cathedral of the Pines, located in the dystopian landscape of the anxious American imagination, create atmospheric scenes, many featuring local residents, and for the first time in Crewdson’s work, friends and family. In Woman at Sink, a woman pauses from her domestic chores, lost in thought. In Pickup Truck, Crewdson shows a nude couple in the flatbed of a truck in a dense forest—the woman seated, the man turned away in repose. Crewdson situates his disconsolate subjects in familiar settings, yet their cryptic actions—standing still in the snow, or nude on a riverbank—hint at invisible challenges. Precisely what these challenges are, and what fate awaits these anonymous figures, are left to the viewer's imagination.

Crewdson's careful crafting of visual suspense conjures forebears such as Diane Arbus, Alfred Hitchcock, and Edward Hopper, as well as the influence of Hollywood cinema and directors such as David Lynch. In Cathedral of the Pines, Crewdson's persistent psychological leitmotifs evolve into intimate figurative dramas.

Visually alluring and often deeply disquieting, these tableaux are the result of an intricate production process: For more than twenty years, Crewdson has used the streets and interiors of small-town America as settings for photographic incarnations of the uncanny. Working with a large crew, he plans his images as meticulously as any movie director.

The results of this intricate process are spectacular.

The links made between Crewdson's work and Twin Peaks seem wholly justified when you arrive amongst huge photographs of small-town America, populated with strangely disconnected people. The images have stories that beg to be told, and everything about them is otherworldly and beguiling. I was completely mesmerised by them.

The technical side of the photography is equally impressive. The amount of work Gregory Crewdson puts into staging the shots is absolutely immense - they are cinematic in scale as has already been pointed out - and the slide show of 'behind-the-scenes' photographs is illuminating as to exactly how much effort is required for the images to be created.

The exhibition as a whole thing is well-curated, and the body of work sits nicely across the three floors of the space. The Photographers' Gallery is a venue I cannot praise highly enough for not only the quality of their exhibitions, but also the gallery as a whole - it's welcoming, the cafe is good and shop ruinously well-stocked.

As someone with an active interest in photography I engaged with Cathedral of the Pines on the levels of both story and technique; these contrasting elements are equally captivating. However, even if you're not a regular photographer yourself, there is a lot to work with in this exhibition: I recommend it highly. Go get yourself lost.

5/5: It's strange and it's beautiful
The Photographer's Gallery
Soho
Until 8th October 2017

Review: Hamlet

The short version of this review runs:

This is the best version of Hamlet I have ever seen on a stage. Go and get tickets for it while you still can.

Now, if you feel so inclined, the more detailed version...
 
... Many previous reviewers have already commented on Andrew Scott's brilliance in the role of Hamlet, but it's fair praise: he is astonishing. His performance felt so light, so vital, that it could have been of a text written yesterday. Having seen Benedict Cumberbatch, Rory Kinnear and David Tennant in the role, I am still quite comfortable in saying this is the best iteration of Hamlet I have yet witnessed. Scott's version of the legendary character is both startlingly vulnerable and dangerously unpredictable.

However, this version of Hamlet isn't just the Andrew Scott show. No, the whole thing is a master-class in how to bring Shakespeare to a modern stage and make it feel relevant. Robert Icke's direction is inspired. The design, the staging, the lack of cuts that could have made it a shorter piece, the AV choices: everything works.
Particular design highlights included the use of news broadcasts, and introducing the ghost via CCTV, and the music direction - lots of Bob Dylan and some original Laura Marling - is properly spine-tingling.
The rest of the class stand up to Scott's brilliance, as well, and Juliet Stevenson's Gertrude takes Hamlet's mother in an unusually powerful direction. Her knowing death at the end was one of the striking-yet-subtle twists that made this production so incredible.

This proved to be a brave new Hamlet without a sacrifice of the original text. It made me excited about the theatre, and determined to try and rethink how to introduce Shakespeare to younger audiences (during working hours I'm an English teacher). 

If you can see it you must. It is a master-class in everything Shakespeare can be on a modern stage.

5/5: The flawless, classic, and contemporary Dane
Transferred to the Harold Pinter Theatre
Until 2nd September

Review: Into the Unknown

The Barbican are currently hosting a huge exhibition exploring the genre of scifi. They're describing it like so:

The genre-defining exhibition of art, design, film and literature.

From the 19th century cabinet of curiosities, to the vastness of space. Through future cities, into the inner landscapes of human perception.
Uncover the mysterious lands of Jules Verne and Ray Harryhausen where Science Fiction narratives first took root. Venture on an odyssey into our solar system, with vintage artwork promoting Soviet visions of space alongside immersive work by Soda_Jerk. Visit a gallery of aliens, and stand alongside iconic spacesuits from a galaxy of blockbusters including Star Trek and Interstellar.
Imagine dystopian worlds with Margaret Atwood and 28 Days Later. Then, with nowhere left to explore but human consciousness, delve deep and experience the transformation and mutation of the body through the eyes of Jack Kirby and Ex Machina.
Curated by historian and writer Patrick Gyger, this festival-style exhibition consists of more than 800 works, many of which have never been seen in the UK before. Continuing across the Centre, it includes artwork from Isaac Julien, Larissa Sansour and Conrad Shawcross, and an installation from the creators of Black Mirror.

And it's incredible!

Into the Unknown is a glorious and detailed exhibition, filling the Barbican's Curve gallery to the brim and then extending its tendrils out through the whole building, with additional exhibits in the Foyer and the Pit theatre.

The amount of content in the main Curve space is immense: it's more than you can realistically take in in one visit. If you're a scifi fan, you'll feel like you've died and gone to geek heaven, but even if it's not your genre of choice, it's still a fascinating look at the evolution of design in the field.

The artworks outside of The Curve are intriguing, and offer a balance to the exhibition, making sure it rises above just being a collection of memorabilia. As a result, Into the Unknown feels exciting and relevant.

Overall, Into the Unknown is yet another example of how good the Barbican are at designing the 'experience' of art exhibitions, beyond just hanging things on walls. Highly recommended.

4/5: A whole other world of style and substance
The Curve: Barbican
Until 2nd September

Review: Woyzeck

So, my theatre production of the week was Woyzeck, currently running at the Old Vic.

They say:

The multi-award-winning Jack Thorne (This is England, Let The Right One In, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child) breathes new life into Woyzeck, one of the most extraordinary plays ever written.
It’s 1980s Berlin. The Cold War rages and the world sits at a crossroads between Capitalism and Communism. On the border between East and West, a young soldier (John Boyega) and the love of his life are desperately trying to build a better future for their child.
But the cost of escaping poverty is high in this searing tale of the people society leaves behind.

And it was alright; Woyzeck, in this iteration, is at least okay, occasionally more than okay, often not.

Tom Scutt's set design is dynamic and exciting, whilst Isobel Waller-Bridge's music and Gareth Fry's sound design are in turns looming and magnificent. Further more, the first Act holds together beautifully, fulfilling some of the drive of Buchner's original play.

After the interval, however, things start to go awry.

When the plot gives way to Woyzeck's deteriorating mental state, John Boyega, who had hitherto been quite good in the role, over acts it terribly. There's a lot of writhing and gurning, which stereotypes mental illness in a way that is really quite problematic. It's like Jack Thorne and Joe Murphy felt it was necessary to signpost at every opportunity 'THIS MAN IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN!' when really a lot more subtlety would have served the piece better.

The performances of the rest of the cast - Ben Batt as 'Andrews' particularly - are more consistent, and I realise that in focusing on Boyega I'm buying into the 'big-stars-in-plays-in-London' vibe that is currently dictating the casting of a lot of major London productions.
In this vein, I am being critical. In the field of big-stars-in-plays-in-London Woyzeck is more engaging than Obsession (starring Jude Law) was at the Barbican, but it falls way short of Angels in America (starring, well, lots of people) at the National. Overall, then, Woyzeck manages to still be worth seeing.

It's not the best thing I've seen this year, but it's far from the worst. You probably wouldn't be disappointed if you saw it, and it's pacey enough to keep you on-board.

3/5: Worth a watch, though not a game-changer
The Old Vic
Until 24th June

Review: Common

Last night was the night for Common at the National Theatre.
They say:

An epic tale of England’s lost land.

Mary’s the best liar, rogue, thief and faker in this whole septic isle. And now she’s back.

As the factory smoke of the industrial revolution belches out from the cities, Mary is swept up in the battle for her former home. The common land, belonging to all, is disappearing.

... but I don't really know what to say about it.

I liked it less than Salome, for a start, because that at least was beautiful to look at: Common, was just a mess.

Once again, a production with a lot of potential was been let down by a shockingly poor script. The story was confused, the dialogue stilted and needlessly sweary, and this left me struggling to care about any of the characters.

Anne Marie Duff was very watchable, it's just a shame she only had DC Moore's script to work with. The language of the script itself was almost unbearably frustrating, because it could have been brilliant: the use of non-standard English and hyphenated coinages could have been a fascinating exploration of how meaning is made, but it fell well short of achieving such a lofty aim.

The pagan-inspired design of the villagers in costume could have been exploited more, and to great effect. It wasn't.
The whole piece felt too long and dull.

The music was great though.

It isn't very often I would tell you to avoid a production at the National, but I just can't recommend Common: your money would be better spent elsewhere.

2/5: A mess of untapped potential
National Theatre
Until 5th August