Decadence

Burton Taylor Studio

Tuesday 20th – Saturday 24th October 2009 at 7.30pm

“At no point do Robinson and Edwards have the chance to cool off back stage, to check a script, or change clothes. The contrastive scenes are demarcated only by their ability to alter posture, accent and style. For this alone, applause is warranted.  So too must we acknowledge the sheer robustness and versatility of Robinson’s crotch – we must hope that four nights of acting do not give rise to a lifetime of infertility. The critic’s thoughts are with you.” Martin Parlett ★★★★★

“They encapsulated brilliantly the rapid jerkiness of the stereotypical upper classes of London society, while their portrayal of the down and outs at the other end of the social spectrum was also convincing. The energy levels were generally very well maintained, Jessica for her part heroically trying to dispel early signs of a cold (more lemsip over the week for the pair of them, and maybe no tutorials until Monday).” Sam Baker ★★★★★

Decadence ★★★★★

Review by Martin Parlett

Decadence was, is, and always will be a curate’s egg of a play. Even the glorious Joan Collins, and her ill-fitted white bodices failed to breathe new life into Berkoff’s libidinous script with her busty 1993 film adaptation. So low were my expectations that when I was asked to review the performance, I quipped – in that arrogant-critic-kind-of-way – thatDecadence is the cursed ‘Scottish Play’ of the 20^th century. And yet, I was wrong. Tonight, Burton Taylor’s student production hailed the verse play’s renaissance at a moment of striking cultural and political relevance.

This week, stepping into the sweaty claustrophobia afforded by the BT’s ‘intimate’ setting, one feels as if the ticket you have shown the doorman has admitted you to an underground brothel. The 40-something-year old businessman, who walks in ahead of me, with a suitcase in tow, does little to dispel this feeling. A poised female, dressed not unlike an Amsterdam window scene, sits upon a regally upholstered chaise and beckons you to take a seat for a spot of debauchery.

Scenes alternate between two parallel vignettes of British life – the upper class heedless indulgences of Helen and Steve– and the intense new money tribulations between Sybil (Steve’s wife) and a private-detective-stroke-doggy-styling lover, Les. Both couples – though it is odd to term them this way – are played by the brilliant Joe Robinson, and the solid Jessica Edwards. Though at times Edwards reached the standard set by her counterpart, the distractive force of her continuously flickering eyelashes, which was reminiscent of an infuriating strip light, cannot be overlooked. Edwards’ eyes demanded a role of their own, I think, which simply didn’t exist.

Berkoff’s concept is straightforward, and at all times transparent: To parallel the reckless, sexual, gourmet, operatic, high-heeled and plum-voiced excesses of a naval-gazing bourgeois with the uncultured but hungry resurgence of a repressed, flat-footed, Cockneyed lower class. These alternations are staged to align our disgust with the elite and our sympathies with the disadvantaged. And yet, the immoderate lifestyles of Helen and Steve, with their fabulous Shakespearian quibbles and unimaginable lexical variety, provide colour with their outrageous anecdotes (usually involving fellatio), and humour in the iconic horse-play and drinking scenes, lacking in the world of the nouveau riche. Unfortunately, the murderous plottings of Les, Sybil’s cold and frank final monologue, teamed with their repetitious post coital discourse amass to an unattractive social alternative. At times, I could not help but feel as though I was flicking between a delightful rerun of Jeeves and Wooster, and the woe-ridden streets of Albert Square. Berkoff’s didacticism is simply lost in an incoherent presentation of these two opposed modes of existence.

Where this production is brought into relief, is in its perfect timing of rebirth. Whether this is accidental or not, I am unsure.  But, as contempt towards the political classes, fat-cat bonuses, and City immorality leaks into our culture, a new wave of perceived social immobility provides the play with greater modern political application. So too do Steve’s racist ramblings in the play’s second half. Here his claims of racial purity, and white supremacy culminate in a slogan which would not be out of place in the campaign literature of the BNP: “Let’s keep it clean, keep it white”. As the leader of this ‘right-wing’ party appears on BBC’s flagship political broadcast Question Time this Thursday, Berkoff provides an eerie and echoic reminder of the historical incidence of British prejudices.

All in all, this play requires a colossal portion of versatility. At no point do Robinson and Edwards have the chance to cool off back stage, to check a script, or change clothes. The contrastive scenes are demarcated only by their ability to alter posture, accent and style. For this alone, applause is warranted.  So too must we acknowledge the sheer robustness and versatility of Robinson’s crotch – we must hope that four nights of acting do not give rise to a lifetime of infertility. The critic’s thoughts are with you.

Pornographic silhouettes, frank sexual dialogue and vulgarities of every imaginable physical and verbal nature, may have you on the edge of your seats, clapping and echoing Steve’s chorus: ‘How Wonderfully Decadent!’ Or, as I found, you may look past all of this to silently ponder the question – ‘How Relevant?’ In either case – Bravo!

Decadence ★★★★★

Review by Sam Baker

Hysterical Decadence

Few things in life are more satisfying than theatre with reduced forces done extremely well. For the Frogface Productions’ re-creation of Berkoff’s Decadence at opening night of its run at the Burton Taylor, this was certainly the case. Director Gloria Lagou (St Anne’s) and Producer Chris Stefanowicz (Regents) have worked wonders on Berkoff’s highly energetic and demanding piece. To call it a student production would be demeaning. This job was most professional, very slick indeed, and just about as risqué as could have been acceptable in public theatre.

Arguably the most obscene of Berkoff’s plays, Decadence, first performed in London 1981, is an unashamed reality check of the English class divide. On this tantalizing subject there is a rich body of literature, few that exploit so daringly the rich body of expletive vocabulary in the English language. The play rips to shreds that veneer of gentility, politeness and etiquette behind which, one would suppose, the ruling classes operate. Berkoff savagely shows these toffs for what he feels they truly are: foul mouthed, alcoholic and highly sexually charged. This week is the only chance in a long time for the Oxford audience to experience the best possible dramatization of his powerful work. The show runs till Saturday.

Needless to say, as is always the case with such successful productions, credit is largely due to the actors, two in this case, playing double roles: Jessica Edwards (Brasenose) was both Helen and Sybil, Joe Robertson (Univ) played both Sybil’s husband Steve (who is having an affair with Helen) and Les (Sybil’s lover). Occasionally Matthew Monaghan (LMH) and Jess Law (St Anne’s) would appear lit up behind a screen as mime artists enacting some of the most pornographic scenes of the piece – this was one of many effective directional touches, and the lighting was just about right for this imaginative device.

Jessica should really be paid overtime for her having been frozen on the chaise longue in character even as the audience started to appear. She and Joe masterfully handled their respective changes of character, ie. when Helen became Sybil and Steve Les. It wasn’t even necessary to alter the costume to enhance their becoming their other character, so superb was the consistency in their voices, the mannerisms and, fundamentally, their body language. They encapsulated brilliantly the rapid jerkiness of the stereotypical upper classes of London society, while their portrayal of the down and outs at the other end of the social spectrum was also convincing. The energy levels were generally very well maintained, Jessica for her part heroically trying to dispel early signs of a cold (more lemsip over the week for the pair of them, and maybe no tutorials until Monday).

This is an incredibly stylishly choreographed piece, full of brilliant little touches. Everything from the sleazy-jazzy background music to the apt voice-over of Margaret Thatcher stepping down seemed appropriate to the play’s messages and themes. The production team has shown no fear for sexual innuendo.

All in all, a riotous romp that should have you in hysterics.