Sydney Festival 08 - Black Watch
Black Watch, CarriageWorks, 245 Wilson Street, Redfern; 10 January to 26 January 2008; ph:1300 723 038 or www.sydneyfestival.org.au
The first visit to Australia by Scotland's National Theatre Company with their fabled 2006 production of Black Watch has thrown up some fascinating paradoxes.
When first announced late in 2007 as part of the Sydney Festival, there were any number of quizzical and doubtful responses: a theatre company from Scotland? A play about a Scottish regiment that went to Iraq and was then disbanded? Uh huh, riveting prospect.
Yet very quickly and with that mysterious undercurrent known as word-of-mouth, positive anticipation began to build, so that by the time the actors arrived, they were greeted with a bustling box office and genuine excitement.
And then the play opened and all that hopeful expectancy was translated into - Phew! It's as good as we've heard/hoped! And that's no mean feat. It's partly to do with the quality of the play - by Gregory Burke - and partly the dynamic direction by John Tiffany with collaborators Steven Hoggett (movement) and Davey Anderson (music); it's partly the energy, excellence and intelligence of the ensemble; and partly the effectiveness of thesetting (Laura Hopkins), costumes (Jessica Brettle), lighting (Colin Grenfell) and sound ( Gareth Fry).
Significantly, however, it’s an awful lot to do with the story, the true story (nothing made up) of the young Scots who signed up to join the Black Watch as their fathers and grandfathers had signed for some 300 years and what happened to them and why when their world was ripped from beneath their feet.
It’s clearly arguable that the actions of the Blair government in disbanding the famous regiment while it was in the middle of a harrowing deployment in southern Iraq were as destructive and terrible as any roadside car bomb or solo suicide bomber. While the young men were ill-prepared for the implacable tactics of the insurgents, they were even less able to cope with their raison d’etre and traditions being destroyed by the government which had ordered them into harm’s way.
Their fear, rage and bewilderment is palpable as they look ahead to the treacherous desert roads and ambushes only to realise that it’s behind them, back in London, where a Whitehall mandarin’s pen will wipe them off the map more comprehensively than any bunch of explosive-wrapped ragheads could dream of.
The next paradox in this enthralling drama is the language. Burke listened to the men who came home from the war and is represented in Black Watch by the character of The Writer whose almost comical earnestness and decency is as excruciating as the brutal poetry and humour of the language.
Then there’s the movement: choreography that’s equally poetic and brutal in the way it depicts the strength, weakness, rage, tenderness, savagery, fun, sexuality and affection of young men drawn together by geography (the Black Watch was traditionally recruited from a small area of Scotland) tradition, pride and terror. They march, they horse around, they patrol, ducking and weaving as mortars whistle overhead and snipers take potshots, they fight, play, dance and - some - die. And it’s all grotesquely, tragically beautiful.
The lads alternate between chin-pointing belligerence and pants-peeing terror; their stories and predicaments are simultaneously so ordinary and so awful it’s almost impossible to comprehend even when - because of the intimacy of the work and its staging - it’s all quite literally in your face.
At an hour and 45 minutes straight through Black Watch is one of those defining theatre and festival experiences that stick in the memory (the most obvious comparison is The Flood Drummers of 2002) and which send you out into the night grateful if pulverised by the experience.
