The Cockpit Theatre welcomes this experimental one-man show led by internationally renowned director Roberta Carreri, coming all the way from Denmark’s Nordisk Teaterlaboratorium. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this display of crumbling emotions really brings the house down.
Families are not the people we’re born to, but those we choose to take that role. The need to escape from a tormenting past has been both fuel and guidance to every creative soul since probably the dawn of time. We can’t decide upon the things fate throws at us, but it’s our job to take the action that follows through. A story of parental abuse and childhood trauma is not unacquainted to the stage. In fact, the premise has been presented so many times and in so many forms, the sole way to still make it fresh and appealing is to bring the truthfulness that our unique, personal experience can provide with. We must find the drama within it and let it pour in. But when we drag it from places other than our own verity, distance may be the only result cascading down.
This week, London’s The Cockpit Theatre opens its stage to Honey Badger, a one-handed play exploring the struggles of a middle-age man haunted by the obscure recollections of his home. Directed by Roberta Carreri (formally Odin Teatret), the piece takes us on a harrowing journey through memory lane, as the lead opens up about his distressing background – reflecting upon his strict upbringing, coming from a household more preoccupied on appearance and societal conventions than his own son’s happiness and well-being.
Powerful, stirring and instantly engaging as a concept, the script delivers an interesting outline as for the potential of its narrative, but sadly fails to elevate it anywhere further than what, in the end, feels more like a melange of method acting techniques pasted altogether with a story arc that, though cohesive, lacks proper development and strength. The conflict is introduced far too early within the recount, not allowing the exposition to build enough of a connection with the viewer – thus, making it difficult for us, as an audience, to care (let alone, fall) for the protagonist’s plight. In addition, the conclusion seems slightly rushed and, all in all, abrupt – wrapping a tale where too many of its components have had little chance to unfold.
Nonetheless, the production is still laudable thanks to its visuals, crafted primarily through Fausto Pro’s suggestive and occasionally symbolic sets and extremely evocative lighting – the latter, bringing remarkable character and intricacy to the whole montage, while also endowing the account with bigger attractiveness. As for the cast, Juraj Benko gives a mighty physical performance through the Carreri’s rather experimental blocking, but the rest of his rendition (though highly applaudable for being portrayed in not his native language) could still benefit for a little more naturalness.
Standing on the grounds of a rather striking idea, Honey Badger serves as a showcase of theatrical possibilities, but struggles to narrow down the one to channel its still missing voice, and consequently give it shape and identity. More than commendable as for its efforts, it still needs to find the way to make them all come to complete fruition, and let the fire blazing underneath to finally burn through. We may put all the dramatic tools in the book to our service, but without that spark of insight and originality to ignite them, they will set themselves to work.
Honey Badger plays at London’s The Cockpit Theatre until 13 April. Tickets are available on the following link.