Extropia
As the play charts the 'discovery' of music in a world where it has been forgotten, this comedy proves somewhat of a mixed blessing
| 15 Aug 2007
"It has been over [insert comically large number] days since our last anomaly," announces the foreman, to the huzzahs of his silly brainwashed workers. It's the regimented world of an Orwellian dystopia which marks the start point for Extropia. But numerous pompous attempts by arts students have rendered it unfashionable to dramatise Orwell's sobering prose so, wisely avoiding a competition with Orson Welles' matchless teeth-gnashing, Flying Carpet Theatre opt for a more comic route.
As the play charts the 'discovery' of music in a world where it has been forgotten, this comedy proves somewhat of a mixed blessing. On one hand, the affected, slightly gormless acting style allows a humorous swipe at the willing followers of the regime. On the other hand, the series of revelations which plot the discovery of each new sound is conducted with a dim-witted enthusiasm onstage that can't be matched by the audience. Especially the sixth time round.
Where the performers do get doubleplusgood marks is for the superb synchronisation of live percussion and action. Used to suggest a kind of human automation, the machine-like movement of the characters in sync with the banging of pots and electronic triggers is exceptionally well rehearsed. In one scene, a cacophony of machine sounds is slowed down to 'discover' underlying beats and rhythms, slapped out superbly on the junkyard kit. This does require a corresponding deceleration of the action, though the overall effect of prodding the line between sound and music is worth the slightly hammy slo-mo.
But Flying Carpet theatre try to cover too much ground: it is unclear what purpose the constant movement of the six boxes which comprise the set serves other than to show off the troupe's synchronised skills – which they do with aplomb. Similarly a scene which nearly culminates in a farcical ear-removing operation – a nod to violent scenes in 1984 – while enjoyable enough in itself, detracts from the focussed exploration of sounds and music Extropia might have become. Still, at least it isn't pompous.
As the play charts the 'discovery' of music in a world where it has been forgotten, this comedy proves somewhat of a mixed blessing. On one hand, the affected, slightly gormless acting style allows a humorous swipe at the willing followers of the regime. On the other hand, the series of revelations which plot the discovery of each new sound is conducted with a dim-witted enthusiasm onstage that can't be matched by the audience. Especially the sixth time round.
Where the performers do get doubleplusgood marks is for the superb synchronisation of live percussion and action. Used to suggest a kind of human automation, the machine-like movement of the characters in sync with the banging of pots and electronic triggers is exceptionally well rehearsed. In one scene, a cacophony of machine sounds is slowed down to 'discover' underlying beats and rhythms, slapped out superbly on the junkyard kit. This does require a corresponding deceleration of the action, though the overall effect of prodding the line between sound and music is worth the slightly hammy slo-mo.
But Flying Carpet theatre try to cover too much ground: it is unclear what purpose the constant movement of the six boxes which comprise the set serves other than to show off the troupe's synchronised skills – which they do with aplomb. Similarly a scene which nearly culminates in a farcical ear-removing operation – a nod to violent scenes in 1984 – while enjoyable enough in itself, detracts from the focussed exploration of sounds and music Extropia might have become. Still, at least it isn't pompous.