Whose Blood Review (and response): Time Out

Time Out says ★★    Readers say ★★★★

Time Out (Andrzej Lukowski):  “Full of interesting titbits about medicine of the day (including the body-snatching exploits of the ‘resurrectionists’) and the experiences of African immigrants in Victorian London, Burger would appear to know his stuff.  But convincing dialogue and character eldue him. . . . Much of what happens in ‘Whose Blood’ is reported not enacted.”

Reader Review:  “Something that struck me about this play is that it is unique to anything else on the London stage at the moment.  Efua tells us what happens in a way not dissimilar to how tales and fables are told in a lot of African culture. She’s a storyteller and plays her heart out, inviting the audience to be part of the story. Perhaps Andrzej is not familiar with African theatre.”

Where It All Began

I’m staying in Paris at a friend’s apartment and found this picture on the wall: Le Malade Imaginaire. I performed the lead when I was 17.   Michele Gregoire and Teresa Linehan bravely lead us into a world of 17th century hypochondria.  I admire and draw strength from their daring.

 

Words Not my Own

Words Not my Own

It’s a strange thing that happens to us writers sometimes: suddenly our words are no longer our own.  This is what I’ve wanted, been working towards, and yet it doesn’t feel easy.  Like a child growing up and leaving home, I suspect.

I’ve been writing my play Whose Blood for over a year now — nineteen drafts, last time I counted.  I’ve done readings, had lots of input, but up until now my words were always mine.   When I didn’t want to work on the play, the script just sat on my shelf, waiting for me — I could neglect her for weeks and even threaten to never come back.   But now that rehearsals have begun, everything has changed.

My words are no longer my own, instead they are now the contours of a universe that the director, actors, and crew inhabit.  The actors chew on the words and spit some of them back: I make changes.   The costume designer listens and then sews outfits, the sound and lighting designers create the light of candles and the sounds of a 19th century carriage.  The director constructs dances and movement to fill out this world that she now also imagines.

I want to run away.  It was easier when the words were only my private playthings I could control.  I’m at times embarrassed: it sounded better in my head.  I’m not sure if this child was ready to got into the world.

When I leave rehearsal the actors are singing and dancing.   I go back to my quiet apartment and look at my script and try to pretend she is still mine, but it doesn’t work.  The director calls: questions about some lines and plans to move into dress rehearsal.  I look online and there is publicity “a new play by Alex Burger.”   These words are really no longer mine, they are a map to a world we construct together.   I hope the world is beautiful, but I’m still not sure I’m ready for the shock of the visit.

Whose Blood opens the 23 February at the Old Operating Theatre.  For more information and tickets go to www.whoseblood.com

Return from Ghana

I’ve just returned from 10 days in Ghana, making the same trip to London that my characters in Whose Blood made almost 200 years ago.  Although I’ve lived and worked in many parts of Central and West Africa, this way my first trip to Ghana.  It felt oddly familiar, comfortable, a part of the world and a part of me I have left but not forgotten.

Rehearsals start tomorrow, we open in three weeks.  We will see what these weeks bring.