Sunday: Latitude Triumphant
The last day, and I am feeling my age. I’ve collected more than a few reviews, and decide to wander between events, catching nothing properly but letting the atmosphere guide me. I also eat quite frequently on the last day, and taste curries from around the world. I am still in favour of Thai above all else.
Another Fuel event, a series of Sheds, seem to share the idea that what we really need from performance is a bit of peace and quiet. Well, certainly at a music festival. I am given wine, listen to music, read a fairy-tale. It’s unassuming, a pleasant break. I prefer my theatre more life-changing and provocative. Luckily, the rain outside fulfils my desire: squalls like this have the surrealism of the best Belgian theatre and last as long as a good take on Shakespeare’s entire War of the Roses sequence. I am suddenly filled with nostalgia for the auditorium at the Citizens.
I do catch one of my target companies on Sunday – the Sadler’s Wells programme. Zoo Nation give us a burst of narrative hip-hop dance: it has the impressive set-pieces, a dance throw down and a vague story that the full show will doubtless expand. The crowd go wild and I meditate on how much I love the dancing.
In many ways, it is Sadler’s Wells that got me to Latitude. I wanted to get a head’s up on Tim Crouch’s I Maevolio – those who saw The Author last year will be pleased to know that he doesn’t turn Shakespeare’s not-mad bad guy from Twelfth Night into a paedophile, but rescues him from infamy. I was loyal to the National Theatre of Scotland, although I already knew I liked their show. I even got a chat with 1927, who are what cabaret could be if it lost the self-regard and obsession with the quick turn. But Sadler’s Wells is my first love.
This fine old London theatre has been bringing art to the masses since my grandmother’s day. It is where my nan used to watch opera, where my mother saw her first ballet and where I was bitten by the modern dance bug, thanks to The Fall and Michael Clark rocking the Orange in the late 1980s. They are still on the ball, booking the best dance acts from around the world, commissioning new choreography and turning up at Latitude to occupy a stage by the lack. And despite the rain, they still represent the reason why I came to Latitude: a chance to see stuff that passes me by.
On the train back, I do accept that Latitude is not just about me: I can see as much music as I want in Glasgow, as much performance. But what makes it important is the way that it gives access to so much in a short space of time: a taster of art for those who are stuck in cities like London where it just isn’t so cool.