Lia Saville Interview

Lia Saville is the bright young thing taking to the stage to illuminate the dark and brutal reality of the disaffected British youth – a subject dominating contemporary playwriting, as well as recent political and social debate.

Acting in bold and powerful productions including Dennis Kelly’s ‘Osama the Hero’ and Simon Stephens’ ‘Herons and Country Music’, Lia’s tireless energy is now focused on something even more hard-hitting, as she stars in Sean Holmes’ upcoming production of Edward Bond’s infamous play, ‘Saved.’ Originally produced at the Royal Court Theatre in 1965, it initially received heavy censorship, provoking Laurence Olivier himself to plead for audiences to show ‘the courage’ to watch it. In the face of such a controversial and volatile history, Lia talks to i-D online about a play which, all over again, promises to incite its mixed share of outrage and adoration.

How are rehearsals going? They’re going well this week, last week we were just getting the feel of the play – that was quite a stressful time because you’re realising a lot about your character. Mine is quite an emotional character so it’s a lot to take om. But this week I felt a lot better and more comfortable.

You’ve been in some of the greatest premieres of new playwriting in recent years. Do you think British playwriting is striving to reflect what’s going on with people on the street? Yeah I definitely do. All those plays were a while ago. When I did Herons it very much had the feeling of real life situations, often quite intense; the boy (the main character) gets raped. Behind all that hardship and emotion there is a sense of wanting to get out and get a better life for themselves. I do think though that, of course, these are dramatisations, specifically designed for an audience.

What’s it been like working on such an emotionally intense and demanding play as Saved? You would think that the play was intense and demanding and sad and shocking and everything but actually there’s some funny bits as you’re reading it. And the way Sean has cast it there is a comical side to it. And everyone thinks it’s all over-emotional but there are bits in it which are amusing and funny and light. Although of course the play is hard-hitting, there are some…nice parts to it as well.

Edward Bond has described the ending as ‘almost irresponsibly optimistic.’ Do you see it that way? I do. We’ve gone through every scene now and spoke about it. My character Pam especially goes through so much. You see so much of her life and she comes out the other side. Edward Bond couldn’t have finished a play any better; the final scene, with the total silence just movement – it just makes perfect sense. After everything there’s still hope. People still go on. It’s a fantastic play it really is – the more I read through it. You have to come see it.

Is it hard to remake such an infamous and influential play?We’ve only been rehearsing two weeks – there’s ideas flying about. It’s Sean’s vision – what he sees the play to be. People have to come see it to answer that question for themselves.

How is it working with Sean Holmes? He’s so lovely. Even in casting he puts you at ease. He’s an amazing director, he’s so talented and he loves the play, which makes it even easier for him to express what he wants from us. When we see his love and passion it’s hard not to feel it as well. I feed off it.

Do you think ‘Saved,’ which explores the cultural poverty and frustration of a generation of young people, has more meaning in the current climate of the London Riots and the Arab Spring? It’s a tough question. It’s just a great play. People may feel it has some relevance. But I think it has resonance whatever time it is put on. It’s such a strong play whenever.

Saved runs at the Lyric Hammersmith in October, pop here for more information and to scoop some tickets!

Tempest the Musical!... - 'The Tempest' at Royal Haymarket with Ralph Fiennes

From Ibsen to Maid in Manhatten, Shakespeare to Potter, Ralph Fiennes isn’t afraid to swap the prestige of the stage for silver screen success. Now the Dark Lord himself takes a turn as Prospero; iconic lead of The Tempest, currently running at London’s Royal Haymarket Theatre.

The original desert island story, The Tempest follows Prospero, usurped Duke of Milan, on his quest for revenge, employing the power of spirits to trick his enemies and regain the dukedom for his daughter. Trevor Nunn’s production focuses on drawing out Shakespeare’s subtle metanarrative, exploring how theatre works as illusion – an ambitious and original outlook that has divided critics.

Provoking several laughs, Fiennes’s star performance combines revelry with malice, power and emotion. He recites his lines with quavering force invoking a subtle blend of authority and vulnerability, again suggesting the production’s emphasis on exaggerated theatricality. The set reflects his state of mind; a vast and bare stage hazed in dreamy shadows and projected silhouettes. Fiennes plays an isolated figure in his lonely search for catharsis by way of a healthy dose of magic and fantasy.

Shakespeare’s final solo play-and arguably his finest-returns to a traditional neo-classical style which is emphasised in Nunn’s deliberate and careful direction. Combined with an almost slapstick physical comedy, exemplified in Nicholas Lyndhurst’s drunken West Country take on Trinculo, this meant an entertaining, if prolonged, production (especially when watched from the bum-numbing seats squeezed into the lost heights of the upper gallery).

Luckily, the exciting combination of tragicomedy and masquerade kept it enthralling. Critical reaction to the play has reached fever pitch at the three hour duration, lengthened by the peculiar and indulgent musical interludes. These songs reach a bemusing balance between ridicule and dreamy mysticism. At times, the production was in danger of finally bridging the genres and becoming ‘Tempest the Musical.’ A sprightly and androgynous Ariel, singing in a quavering falsetto voice, brought contemptuous laughs from the audience. Even Ralph gets in on the act with a few lyrical exploits.

Yet these strange songs are at the heart of the production’s success. The overt and jarring theatricality draws focus onto its own nature as a play. It ironically draws links between Prospero’s ‘art’ and dramatic illusion.  Prospero’s rejection of his magic at the end of the play has been seen to parallel Shakespeare’s farewell to playwriting. Nunn’s production highlights Shakespeare’s final questioning over the mechanisms and potency of all his theatrical works.

The director’s inconsistent pacing failed to create tension. But this is the point. This production is a tribute to bathos; the contrast of powerful existential exploration and the dubious spectacle of sprits flailing around on wires. As a result we are drawn into the very nature of theatre.

The Tempest runs at the Royal Haymarket theatre until the 29th October.

'The Moon is Halfway To Heaven' at Jermyn Street Theatre, 3/5

Dubbed ‘the jewel in the basement,’ the modest Jermyn Street Theatre hides innocuously amid the bustle and glitz of London’s West End. Its latest production, David Kerby-Kendall’s ‘The Moon is Halfway to Heaven,’ suits the cosy layout: its small central stage surrounded by tightly packed seating reminiscent of a miniature padded amphitheatre. Consequently, the audience feels like an unwanted intruder overhearing the intimate confessions driving this poignant story of life, death and friendship.

Paul (also played by Kerby-Kendall) and Jamie (Lucas Hare) are best friends who, seeking temporary respite from reality, return throughout their lives to their special place – a secluded park bench and tree. The play uses this single location to trace their unorthodox relationship, bearing witness to various contemplations on their lives from ages seven to eighty-nine.

These intimate encounters are constantly overlooked by a Mighty Boosh-style moon that becomes a symbol of childhood and mortality. It also serves the purpose of scene setting, playing topical clips from the interchanging time periods. A large screen also sits behind the stage allowing limitless backdrops that project childhood fantasies and reveal the personal, imaginative escapism of the characters.

Born after the First World War Paul and Jamie’s early lives demonstrate the happy innocence of public school Englishness – mispronouncing words, confusing ideas, and wondering how adults manage to know everything. Obvious schoolboy gaffs and mostly unimaginative jokes are buoyed by the energy and gusto with which the actors throw themselves into their childhood roles.

Their teenage years brings inevitable sexual awakening; the discovery of girls and masturbating. Ladies man Jamie is the foil to intellectual but socially incapable Paul, even teaching him how to kiss. An admirably truthful portrayal of adolescent angst gradually escalates into over-indulged laddish humour. This get drunk, male-focused comedy continues throughout their adult lives. Whilst intending to reveal their ‘young at heart’ attitude, it begins to seem rather repetitive and overdone.

War, marriage and divorce invade their experiences whilst their central friendship maintains the one loving and supportive constant. As the characters grow old reluctantly, their nostalgia for the pure imagination of childhood intensifies. They offer metaphysical and spiritual reflections on life and identity– ‘the billion things that make us who we are.’ The characters realise the tragic transience of life and perception. These insights are thought-provoking although often cross over into tedious and didactic monologues of the writer’s personal philosophies.

Where the play succeeds is in its sense of fun and the heartfelt sympathy with which the audience identifies with the relationship described in the program as ‘without a label;’ a relationship outside society’s preconceptions. What undoes this slightly is that their loutish heterocentricism underpinned by homoeroticism is the definition of conventional masculinity. What could have potentially been an interesting theme of repressed homosexuality is immediately rejected as one of those ‘labels.’

From a production that resolves in the program to confront the conventions of society, it seems to conform to many itself. The dialogue though genuinely funny and moving at times, often seems unoriginal and cheesy. Jamie’s eventual death in old age sets up a final scene that could have been from a Hollywood chick flick –Paul gazing up at the moon as a pop ballad blasts in the background.

'The Company of Strangers'

This new dark comedy, by Carol Bunyan, opened at The Courtyard Theatre last night. Socially perceptive and genuinely funny the production should not be missed. 5/5

Ken (Derek Wright) and Matron (Imogen Bain)

Carol Bunyan’s ‘The Company of Strangers’ is a dark comedy of conflict ingeniously set in the forgotten isolation of a retirement home. Such a setting provides a perfect environment for Bunyan’s merciless humour while forcing us to stare, face to face, at the repressed reality of life and death.

Nick (Alan Charlesworth) is a dedicated but overly enthusiastic nurse at The Restmore Nursing home. His life revolves around envisaging ever more ridiculous games to entertain the tired and bemused patients. His booming opening soliloquy addresses the audience as if they were patients, immediately immersing the audience into the home’s bleak atmosphere, wonderfully complemented by the immediately recognisable stage design.

The part of Nick was written specifically for Charlesworth and you can see why. His amazingly malleable facial expressions and bulging eyes are enough to inspire amusement. But what grabs hold is an immediate sense of the underlying motives that fuel the constant distraction of his endless, idiotic games. In sudden recollections, sparked by clever language associations, we learn of his terrible guilt over the death of a young boy while he worked in a casualty ward. Nick spends eight years attempting to gain access to ‘his file’, terrified of the potential accusations it contains.

Nick’s relations with the ward’s Matron (Imogen Bain) revolve around typical workplace politics. She is desperately searching for love, dishonestly marketing herself as a 12 stone, chess-playing gym enthusiast, in a hilarious satire of online dating. There is a brilliant physical comedy to her performance as she enthusiastically runs for the phone whenever it rings and regresses to a giggling teenage self as she flirts with her blind date.  Again, this ridicule is balanced with a sympathetic humanity: she confesses ‘why not me? Make him love me.’

Driving the plot forward is the conflict between the home’s employees and a pair of teenagers arriving on work experience. Matt (Aaron Mwale) and Suzy (Rebecca Farrell) initially view their time as just that; ‘we’re only work experience.’ Offering a young and fresh perspective, they come to bond with the residents, such as Ken (played brilliantly by Derek Wright) whose deafness ‘is like being on a different planet.’ While the duo remain haunted by the memory of serving ‘custard’ to the residents, unlikely parallels emerge as empathy bridges the generation gap, revealing shared understanding. 

The cruelty of institutionalism is mirrored from school to retirement home as Nick remembers poignantly his treatment by school bullies. Bunyan gradually reveals the hidden anxieties of each character in turn. We learn how the Matron and Nick both live in constant fear of rejection. Another parallel is in the idea of defining identity. The Matron’s online profile creates an external ‘self’, mirroring the threatening power of Nick’s ‘file’ suggesting, as Matt articulates, ‘the power of information.’  

What makes Bunyan’s play so rewarding is its confidence, both in its unrelenting humour and willingness to explore universal human issues in clever and subtle dialogue. The retirement home functions as a microcosm of a British society ruled by conflict. Politics, class, race, gender, sex and identity are as potent as ever and, because of its isolated setting, operate more visibly. ‘The Company of Strangers’ manages to provide constant entertainment, social satire and potential redemption through empathy, kindness and care.  Bunyan’s play is both slapstick and tragically real, revealing the shared human fears and desires that connect us all. The play ends with Nick offering the audience an ominous reminder: ‘all of you…we’ll be waiting for you.’