Ukrainian Cultural Centre, Manchester
Five stars
When a hip-swivelling, pelvis-thrusting,
heart-breaking Elvis Presley entered the building, the recording studio and the
conscience of every teenage rebel in the world to become the bone fide king of
rock and roll, its seismic effect spanned several generations. As
choreographer, director and performer Claire Cunningham shows in her
astonishing new creation, it’s easy to be all shook up by Elvis’ youthful
pre-Vegas image on TV, even when you might be trapped in your own sense of
quietly rebellious self.
This becomes the starting point for the ninety
poignantly transcendent minutes of Cunningham’s co-production between the
National Theatre of Scotland and Manchester International Festival, where it
premieres this week prior to autumn dates in Glasgow. Throughout, Cunningham
and her three cohorts explore what it means to take a leap, strike a pose and
learn to love the spotlight for who they are, even as the image they project
might be that of someone very different.
Such everyday life lessons are gleaned from a bunch
of Elvis tribute acts who help make for a kind of auto-biographical cabaret
that brings together four disabled artists to strut their stuff in a way that
leaves them both exposed and empowered. As Cunningham, Daniel Daw, Tanja Erhart
and Vicky Malin take it in turns to step into the harsh glare of a social club
function room, there are moments they could be any showbiz wannabes going
through their paces. Set against sound designer Matthias Herrmann’s remarkable
deconstructed funereal electronic reimaginings of Elvis originals, it becomes a
transformative meditation on how standing out from the crowd isn’t always easy.
In a show that sees the cast embrace their
imperfections just as their jump-suited mentors might add their own personal
tics to their performance, let’s hear it too for the tribute acts themselves.
The disembodied recorded voices of Leigh, Des, Darren, Janny and Colbert are
heard giving encouragement to their new charges with the philosophical zeal of
Olympic trainers. When Cunningham’s final number unites everyone to make the
performance possible, she is totally herself in a life-affirming display of
community spirit that would make Elvis quiver with pride.
The Herald, July 18th 2019
ends
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