You will never see anything like a work by Lloyd Newson. His combination of verbatim theatre and sinuous, metaphorical movement is bold, involving and utterly unique. The words give the movement purpose; the movement restrains the words from sentimentality or sententiousness.
This technique that he has developed with his DV8 Physical Theatre Company works brilliantly in John, a study of one man’s search for love from the ruins of his shattered life. John is a real person – we hear his actual voice towards the end – who has suffered more tragedy and abuse than seems possible. From the second this 75-minute piece starts, we are plunged directly into its full horror.
On Anna Fleischie’s revolving stage, to a soundtrack by Gareth Fry, we see swift, matter-of-fact tableaux of John’s early life with his violent father and depressed, shoplifting mother: the brother lashed to his bed and whipped until he bleeds, the mother assaulted, the babysitter raped; the children lined up like shop dummies to steal school uniforms.
Each image, flashing by, is accompanied by John’s laconic commentary, with Hannes Langolf finding pitch-perfect understanding of the effect the words will have. “At 10, I went into care. I was quite pleased to be honest.”
But it is the movement, the imagery, that turns these words into such a powerful plea for understanding, that commands you to understand a life you might want to ignore. As John and his brother descend into heroin addiction, the dancers slope, rubber-legged, boneless, falling even as they stand; when John describes the catastrophic death of another friend, he seamlessly folds and unfolds his body in paroxsyms of pain; trying to sort out his life, he stands as if rooted to the spot by magnetic feet, describing his dreams of being normal in wafting movements to the air; in prison, his exercise routine shoots him high above the back wall; figures in the judiciary system pirouette like turning dolls.
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It is transfixing, both beautiful and shocking and has the effect of making you listen harder. But the piece originally grew from a more general set of interviews about men and love, and suddenly, half-way through, its focus lurches to bring in more voices and a different theme.
The ensuing depiction of life in a gay sauna and its examination of why gay men have unprotected sex – combined with a plea for responsibility – is well-staged and bravely confrontational, but it is simply less engrossing than John’s tale. The electrifying energy dissipates.
It is only at the close, when the spotlight settles once more on John and his hopeful attempts to find the relationship that will give his life meaning, the work discovers its power once more.
Throughout the dancers are uniformly excellent and Langolf’s central performance in simply devastating in its impact and empathy. The production is screened to cinemas on December 9; if you see it, you will never forget it.
Until Jan 13. Part of the Travelex £15 Tickets. Tickets: 020 7452 3000; nationaltheatre.com
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