THE YEAR OF THE SEX OLYMPICS
By Nigel Kneale (adapted by Ross Kelly) Directed by Ross
Kelly & Daniel Thackeray
The Lass O’Gowrie, Manchester
Review by Brian Gorman
Producer Gareth Kavanagh, in collaboration with Scytheplays,
succeeds brilliantly in bringing
Quatermass creator Nigel Kneale’s provocative and visionary BBC tv play
‘The Year Of The Sex Olympics’ to the stage. I’ve been a big fan of Kneale’s
for decades, and recently managed to catch up with the original television
version, featuring the legendary Leonard Rossiter, but I can confidently say
that this stage adaptation beats the beeb’s hands down. Performed in the small
but superbly atmospheric upstairs theatre, The Salmon Rooms, I was mesmerised
throughout. Set in a near future, the elite ‘Hi-Drives’ (the educated classes)
live a sterile existence; all emotion blunted and human passions kept in check.
The ‘Low-Drives’ (the working class) are pacified by an endless tv diet of
hardcore pornography and barrel-scraping ‘entertainment’. The first half is set
primarily in the television studios where our main protagonist Nat Mender (a
compelling Alastair Gillies) beavers away to keep the ratings up on a series of
dismal, morale sapping programmes that include a non-stop marathon of hardcore
sex (the Olympics of the title). With such an intimate performing area the set
is minimal, consisting only of a small control panel with its operators facing
the audience. We (the actual audience) cleverly become part of the action as we
stand in for the fictional audience. This caused quite a few laughs when
disparaging comments from the Hi-Drive tv executives were aimed directly at us.
Coordinator Ugo Priest (a relaxed and confident Howard Whittock) regularly
reminds his team about ‘the old times’ when people were ruled by emotion, and
‘tension’ was the cause of much of society’s ills. A rebellious artist Kin
Hodder (Will Hutchby giving an energetic
and commanding performance) outrages the tv audience during one live
transmission with his disturbingly violent paintings, and it soon becomes
obvious that what’s needed to boost the ratings is a large dose of unfettered
reality. The order is given to create a brand new show, the likes of which today’s
viewers of ‘Big Brother’ will be only too (painfully) aware of. ‘The Live-Life
Show’, for which Nat Mender and his family volunteer, sees the three of them
existing alone on a remote island. Forced to rely on half-remembered skills
such as fire-lighting, hunting and cooking food, and attending to minor accidental
injuries, all under the relentless 24 hour cameras, which soon takes its toll.
The deeper the family sink into despair, the higher the audience ratings, which
made for a particularly uncomfortable, yet thought-provoking experience for
this particular theatre-goer.
Directors Ross Kelly and Daniel Thackeray crafted a tight, superbly-acted,
and often worryingly realistic production. With the characters speaking in a
basic, staccato, text-like style
(language in the future being reduced in vocabulary so as to weed out any troublesome
emotion), it is up to the actors to portray the simmering feelings beneath the
surface. As Nat Mender, Alastair Gillies is tremendous, and gives a beautifully
nuanced performance. Claire Dean partners him brilliantly as Deanie Webb (the
mother of Mender’s child), with a scene-stealing Michelle Ashton completing the
family as teen-age Keten. The three give heartbreaking performances as their
terrifying experience (mentally, emotionally, and physically) on the island
brings them gradually closer until tragedy strikes in a horrifying climax to
the play. Watching the family’s struggles from the comfort of the television
station are Mender’s colleagues, laughing at every painful mishap, and
relishing the boost in ratings. Benjamin Patterson is as cold as ice portraying
the back-stabbing Lasar Opie, while Louise Hamer matches him in throwaway
callousness as the shallow Misch. Determined to boost the ratings ever higher,
Opie reasons that Mender’s family must be put through absolute hell, and he
introduces a psychotic killer onto the island (Phil Dennison – suitably
unhinged and carved seemingly from rock itself) and his mistreated wife Betty
(Leni Murphy, excelling as a living ragdoll, and almost unrecognisable in
several other roles).
This fantastic production of The Year Of The Sex Olympics is
terrifying, hilarious, disturbing, thought-provoking, unsettling, and yet
another major triumph for The Lass O’Gowrie and Scytheplays. I cannot recommend
it highly enough. In fact, this is now getting pretty ridiculous, as almost
everything I see by these talented producers is so good that most other stuff I
go to (no matter how high profile, expensive, or starrily-cast) often pales in
comparison.
Unfortunately, this production ended on 31st July (I've had problems uploading the review, so many apologies for the delay!)
