G's Theatre Blog

  © Jennifer McCord Yesterday night, when the curtains of the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre closed on Iphigenia in Splott , a lady sat in the row behind me asked her friend "So... what did that have to do with Iphigenia?". I was left quite surprised that this was the first thing on top of her mind after the 75 minutes whirlwind we had just experienced.  Walking home, I kept thinking about gaps: how is it possible that, at the end of a show, two people having watched the same movements and heard the same script, having shared the same physical space, can be in two opposite mental places? How is it possible that, in the midst of a global pandemic, some people have to renounce seeing loved ones, taking public transport, or going to school or work, while others cannot be bothered to wear a mask, all the while lamenting a lack of personal freedom? How is it possible that, when learning about the cuts to an essential human service such as public healthcare, a part of the population can

© Alessandra Davison I've never liked the colour orange. In a world full of traffic cones, reflective vests, and life rafts, I've found myself overwhelmed by its loudness, betrayed by its promise of vitality that always ends in tartness.  Last night, I went to Camden People's Theatre, one of my favourite places in London, one that to me means safety, acceptance, growth. When I started working at CPT, in 2019, the dominant colour in our logo was a deep, dark aqua: a gorgeous, grounding shade I now instinctively link to creativity and family. Hence, I am taken aback when I look at the CPT stage, ready for For A Palestinian , and notice an unignorable pile of oranges on the floor. Then, rows of oranges hung from the ceiling. Then, an orange wash in the background, which, in combination with the other elements of the masterful light design (Ros Chase), fills the room with wondrous shades of magenta purple, indigo blue, and of course, an abundance of orange.  Now, it would be re