SUZY GOES SEE
24 May 2025
Suzy Wrong
REVIEW
THE ANARCHY [1138-53]
It is ostensibly a show about a civil war in 12th century England and Normandy. The very many words written for the verbose script of The Anarchy (1138-53), however, seem not to be of great importance in this telling of a story, that proves much more to be about the act of telling, than it is about the story itself. Kerith and Tobias Manderson-Galvin have prepared a great amount of copy, but their performance wants us almost to ignore their verbal regurgitations, and instead find alternative ways to pay attention, to a work of theatre determined to create unusual resonances.
Inevitable in this experience perhaps, are recollections of the Dadaist ethos, with its rejection of bourgeois aesthetics, its embrace of absurdity, and its simultaneous construction and deconstruction of artistic form. This can all be tiresome, academic and dry, but the Manderson-Galvins are so resolutely present as theatre-makers, that we find ourselves delighted and apprehensive, in equal measure, as they keep us riveted to their every bizarre manoeuvre. Theatre is ancient, but it can still communicate through new languages. For The Anarchy (1138-53), we keep finding different ways to ingest this abstract presentation, testing how our humanity can interact with stimuli of this nature. We explore the meaning of meaning, in a strange work like this, wondering where the phenomenon of understanding begins and ends.
When art is bewildering, it is rarely engaging. Thankfully, with its chaotic magnetism, The Anarchy (1138-53) proves itself to be curious but enjoyably so. Its charisma insists that we stay attentive, even if the payoff at every juncture, feels unfamiliar. When things are predictable and always the same, we stop questioning it. That which is uninterrogated holds power over us. Undoubtedly, it is comforting to encounter circumstances that feel natural, normal or ordinary, even if we know that nefarious elements will try to make themselves invisible and undetectable. So much of our ills is buried under the guise of blandness, which must be partly why James Baldwin declared, that “artists are here to disturb the peace.”