By James V. Ruocco
In the distance of the Southwark Playhouse stage, an actor's footsteps are heard in the background. Step by step, they get closer and closer until the character of Sasha, played by the attractive, moodily intense Joseph Potter plants himself downstage center stage to face his at-home audience.
"I've woken up with a headache," he explains. "I get them a lot. But this one...oh, it's a doozy!"
Thus begins Philip Ridley's "The Poltergeist," a wildly inventive, quirky, invigorating piece of theatre that gets under your skin, pushes you over the edge, slaps you in your face, kicks you in the ass and purposely messes with your head. Then again, that's the point of this play as shaped and molded by the playwright in bold, intimate, candid stokes that makes this 95-minute production completely absorbing and fascinating from the moment it begins.
Electrifying.
Satiric.
Outrageous.
Blatant.
Voyeuristic.
Ovation Worthy.
Ridley, as both storyteller and playwright, snaps his fingers, clarifies the addictive plotlines and large number of scenes, keeps track of all the characters (since this is a one-man show, Potter plays all the different parts, both male and female) and times the ever-changing themes and strategies with bloody brilliance.
He also knows what he's doing and where he wants "The Poltergeist" to take you. He builds a punchy narrative that works most advantageously. There is clarity, precision and cheekily etched sarcasm in his non-stop, full-on language. He digs deep with unflinching depravity and vision. He never once scrambles to jump forward without a purpose. Instead, there's an ease and remarkable vibrancy to the experience that never once falters.
As penned by Ridley, "The Poltergeist" puts Sasha front and center and pretty much everywhere else as he confronts his own sanity or lack of it, throws himself into a past, present and future with little or no prospects, drowns in his own self-proclaimed misery and through it all, manages memories of a happier time, when at 15, he was going to take the world by its balls as an artist with paintings and a first-class art exhibition that was going to make him a very rich young man. But sadly, everything went wrong and went up in flames, forcing Sasha to live a life of regret.
The play also traces Sasha's relationship with his boyfriend Chet; his strained relationship with his brother Flynn and the rest of his family; old childhood photos and memories of his mother's parlor salon where she happily entertained her many female friends; Sasha's dependence on co-codamol painkillers; his painting of an attention-grabbing art mural at the age of 15; a birthday gathering for the family which he doesn't want to attend; and finally, his explosive decent into madness and loss of reality. There are also some amusing, cheeky bits about lemon-drizzle cupcakes; his niece Jamila's overblown birthday party; his sexual escapades with Chet; and all those annoying mobile phone calls and chitchats with his family that are playfully done with Green overseeing the action.
Fittingly, "The Poltergeist," filmed on an empty stage last year at Southwark Playhouse, has been directed by Wiebke Green, a British-German director who has staged three other works by Ridley - "The Beast Will Rise," "The Beast of Blue Yonder," "Shivered." Her other directorial credits include "The Comedy of Errors," "Orlando" and "Heather's Wedding." Here, she thrusts the audience into Sasha's dysfunctional world with an in-your-face, brutally honest force that smartly complements the playwright's voice and vision, his dissection of the central characters and his brutal, clever, intimate and poetic patterns of storytelling.
Moreover, she doesn't rush things or fill the stage with unnecessary stage movement and blocking that could detract from the material at hand, upstage Potter or knock him down or completely out of the picture. Her staging is simple, matter-of-fact and timely. There are pauses, breaks and moments in the piece that require Potter to shift gears within a millisecond jumping back and forth into the body and mind of each of the characters he is asked to play, but, thankfully without a lot of body language or vocal variety. Green's deft approach never once leaves us hanging in the balance. We know who's who, who's saying what and how it all fits into the framework of Ridley's story. Given the fact that "The Poltergeist" is being streamed online, you can also hit rewind, play a scene over again or jump back to hear an important piece of dialogue you have enjoyed.
Joseph Potter, an amazing actor with phenomenal control, polish, drive and emotional range, addresses playwright Ridley's script with the motormouth frenzy, it requires. He's crazed. He's possessed. He's panicked. He's silent. He's scared. He's tormented. He's gleeful. He's wicked. He's sarcastic. He's jealous. He's sexually overt. He's out of control. He's completely fucked up.
The actor who reminds one of "Half a Sixpence" star Charlie Stemp, jumps head first into the material displaying a narrative crispness and directness even when acting out a huge group conversation that reveals the showmanship and style of a classically trained performer who is having the time of his life bringing Ridley's words to life under the directorial genius of Green at Southwark Playhouse. He never once misses a beat.
A powerful, ambitious work, "The Poltergeist" thrusts you into Sasha's world with that one-on-one greatness and intimacy Ridley demands. Director Wiebke Green's take, her choice camera angles, cuts, edits, close ups and long shots serves the material well and capture the angst, twitchiness and potency of the playwright's one-man show. The level of professionalism on exhibition here is magnificent and of the highest order. Then again, Southwark Playhouse wouldn't have it any other way.
The Southwark Playhoue production of "The Poltergeist" is now being streamed online through March 7, 2021. To book tickets, call 020 7404 0234. Prices are £12 plus a £3 booking fee. If calling from America, add the +44 international calling code before the actual UK number.
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