We're The Believers and Daniel Hit By a Train

Gareth K Vile searches for answers in the Glasgow underground.

Article by Gareth K Vile | 11 Nov 2008

Although they do not share anything in terms of theme and content, both 12 Stars and Lone Twin Theatre straddle the divide between theatre and performance art. We’re The Believers is a short work-in-progress, and early opportunity to catch 12 Stars in the act of evolving a show; Daniel Hit By A Train has been refined by a UK tour. As devised works, however, their impact is based on an informality that scripted drama struggles to express.

We’re The Believers captures three people in a room. They recite catch-phrases, the chants of the born again believer or the self-help junkie, interspersing ritualistic movements between reports from Waco – courtesy of Bill Hicks – and meditations on Scientology. The rituals are inconclusive, suggestive, hiding the three characters behind statements of faith and self-justification. Religious processes mask the personalities, merging the three into a single voice. Peter MacCalman’s music floats in the background, tensing the atmosphere and guiding the flailing movements. There is a rich seam of ideas beneath this tentative showing: a more full-bodied version would hopefully explore the boundaries between the gentle, personal faith of parts one and four and the apocalyptic visions of part two.

Daniel Hit By A Train is probably half an hour too long, and has a really terrible programme essay from dramaturge David Williams. It chronicles the 53 acts of self-sacrifice mentioned on a London memorial. Some are expressed in mime, others through song, a few through blunt statement of the facts. A man bangs a big drum, marking time and giving the impression of a fairground barker exhibiting curiosities.

At times, Lone Twin Theatre express pathos and tragedy. Molly Haslund has an absurdist and sardonic humour, reducing her multiple heroic deaths to narcissistic parodies, while Antoine Fraval has a consistent stoic dignity. There are a few moments of silly comedy, which aren’t funny and undermine the compassionate intent of the work – it is usually impossible for anyone in performance art to avoid making silly jokes, except when they get all self-important. There is also the strong sense of a company in the making: the piece is as much about the possibilities of performance as it is about heroism, as the creator/performers examine what can replace sincerity and acting for a more immediate communication with the audience.

Despite the clear structure – it is a count down from 53 to zero, after all – this is another work-in-progress really. The work in question is the company’s identity, the straining at boundaries of performance and the willingness to try new approaches. It is aimed at the connoisseur than the casual theatre-goer.