The Arches, Glasgow
3 stars
At the back of the room, performer Carolyn Allen reads simple mantra-like texts into a microphone, while Maxwell McCarthy gives what appears to be an eyewitness account from the camp of the Branch Davidian sect led by David Koresh. The texts are banal in their self-help definitives. The pair are joined by Susan Swanwick, who sits on a chair close to the wall beside the others. As the microphone is passed on, Allen spins around, then runs around a low platform in the centre of the room with stuttering, back-and-forth steps that recall the Shaker rites Linder Sterling choreographed in her performance piece, The Working Class Goes To Paradise. Here, though, Allen’s steps are more hesitant, less precise and more exposed.
Over the next half hour, to Peter MacCalman’s burbling score, the trio quietly and casually relate Gerard McInulty’s cut-up of texts drawn from unlikely bed-fellows such as Bill Hicks and Tom Cruise, not just concerning the Branch Davidians, but the Church of Scientology too. Out of this comes a low-key collage delving deep into what the company call ‘that big chasm called faith.’
12 Stars don’t fit into easy categories of theatre or live art, but pursue their own aesthetic with a forensic informality bordering on the private. This work-in-progress actually more resembles a song-cycle than a play in the conventional sense, so you’re tempted to put a ‘Hey Hey!’ in front of the title.That would perhaps imply a levity, however, which is far from the point of this fragile and quietly demanding line of inquiry. However it develops, for now, at least, body, soul and spirit are ready and willing.
The Herald, November 10th 2008
ends
3 stars
At the back of the room, performer Carolyn Allen reads simple mantra-like texts into a microphone, while Maxwell McCarthy gives what appears to be an eyewitness account from the camp of the Branch Davidian sect led by David Koresh. The texts are banal in their self-help definitives. The pair are joined by Susan Swanwick, who sits on a chair close to the wall beside the others. As the microphone is passed on, Allen spins around, then runs around a low platform in the centre of the room with stuttering, back-and-forth steps that recall the Shaker rites Linder Sterling choreographed in her performance piece, The Working Class Goes To Paradise. Here, though, Allen’s steps are more hesitant, less precise and more exposed.
Over the next half hour, to Peter MacCalman’s burbling score, the trio quietly and casually relate Gerard McInulty’s cut-up of texts drawn from unlikely bed-fellows such as Bill Hicks and Tom Cruise, not just concerning the Branch Davidians, but the Church of Scientology too. Out of this comes a low-key collage delving deep into what the company call ‘that big chasm called faith.’
12 Stars don’t fit into easy categories of theatre or live art, but pursue their own aesthetic with a forensic informality bordering on the private. This work-in-progress actually more resembles a song-cycle than a play in the conventional sense, so you’re tempted to put a ‘Hey Hey!’ in front of the title.That would perhaps imply a levity, however, which is far from the point of this fragile and quietly demanding line of inquiry. However it develops, for now, at least, body, soul and spirit are ready and willing.
The Herald, November 10th 2008
ends
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