This play had me intrigued from the start, when they rolled one of the cast members onto the stage on a lounge from the foyer.
‘Now that’s an entrance’ I thought to myself.
A little bit of stage business ensued, a bit of splashing in the bath and then a couple of monologues and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure that this was anything more than a trick or two contrived into a loose narrative. ‘Indulgent’ I mused. And then came the crack about Robin Williams’ bad films and I knew that although it was going to take me into the dark crevice of grief, it was keeping it real.
Kerri Glasscock, Michael Pigott and Gareth Boylan are the performers and devisers of ‘The Twelfth Dawn’, a physical movement piece that explores the loss of a baby and in that process, time. There were moments I really enjoyed this piece. The connection between our couple (Glasscock and Pigott) was strong and the choreography as they negotiate around these endless days of disconnection from reality was beautifully crafted. Add to this moments firmly grounded in reality and playing with the non-linear time frame of events and its repetition, ‘Twelfth Dawn’ is an infinitely watchable, risk-taking yet controlled piece of intelligent theatre.
I think there are still some things to work on with this piece. Boylan’s characters still feel like they are trying to find how to utilise the third member of the group within the performance and haven’t quite succeeded in placing him in the action. This was especially true as he entered in wig and dress- comic but not necessary. I did enjoy how they used the audience space in their performance and in fact, for a small and intimate stage, they managed to create a world in every corner.
Music was used effectively and the timing throughout was well-crafted and sustained, like a clock ticking away, relentless and unavoidable. It’s a small play that delivers more than you expect.
I know there are only a few more days to catch this one hour show but if you can, pop along to Old 505 and immerse yourself in a fairly strong piece of original theatre.