Waiting Man / Stevie Wonder’s Stern Warning @ Black Lion, 13.07.13

The standout pieces of Nowt Part Of Festival (on the second Saturday, at least) were two one-man shows written and performed by Josh Coates (Stevie Wonder’s Stern Warning) and Jon Coleman (Waiting Man). The pieces share a common theme of being alone, of dealing with a void, and of waiting for something – or someone – to come along.

Waiting Man is an existentialist musing littered with hope, potential, loss, action, and inaction. Told in the third person by a bard-like narrator, the audience is not quite sure whether the story being told is true or not. However, the delivery, the investment in everything being said, and the incredibly effective and deceptive simplicity of the storytelling is so compelling that by the end we are visualising the trajectory of a character who never actually appears onstage, and with devastating results. This is a desperately cynical and yet strangely life-affirming piece of theatre which can lead the audience to think about the path that life could potentially take. On a stage covered with incomplete crossword puzzles, origami birds, clocks, empty food wrappers, and even juggling balls, the Waiting Man waits so that we don’t have to.

By contrast, Stevie Wonder’s Stern Warning is an immediate, first-person monologue depicting a man slowly unravelling whilst trying to hold together a comeback gig – a comeback gig where he is the only member who has turned up. Armed with a ukulele and a suitcase full of enthusiasm, Josh attempts to maintain a smile as he continues through the performance, making every effort to keep the audience buoyed up and happy as the dream of a reunion begins to fade and the realisation sets in that the end has actually already happened. As with Waiting Man, it is the immediate rapport with the audience, the eye-contact, the informality of the event and the complete ease with which Coates delivers the performance which enables the audience to relax and enjoy the ride. We wanted him to succeed, to get through it, to enjoy the gig, and to take us with him on his musical journey. The song ‘Macbeth’ was a wonderful opener, and it would have been great to have heard some more of the talent for lyric writing that this man obviously has.

Both Coates and Coleman made great use of the space, of the audience, of time, silence and sound. We could trust these guys to tell us their stories with great style, emotional intelligence, and honesty. They are definitely ones to watch for in the future.

Words: Claire Dean.

Face Value @ John Cooper Clarke Theatre, Salford

It’s less about faces and more about values. At its heart, Face Value, written by James Antonio, produced by Twin Bird and claiming the honour of the inaugural performance at the new biennial Nowt Part Of festival, is an exploration and critique of the two paradigms by which social beings of the 21st century most ostensibly judge and are judged: beauty and capital.

Opening with a heavily symbolic scene in which a woman whose face is obscured by bandages sits alone reading Cosmopolitan, watched over by an ornately-framed mirror, Face Value tells the story of Cindy (Cinthya Verenice Quijano), a 23-year-old orphan who ran away to London to pursue a modelling career, abandoning her carer and uncle, Simon (Kristian Parsons), and best-friend, Gemma (Christine Hall). Years later Cindy returns, following the disastrous outcome of her latest plastic surgery, to find that Gemma and Simon are an item expecting their first-child, and that Gemma has won the lottery.

This ‘happy’ hospital reunion is darkened by the appearance of Gemma’s ex, John (Clay Whitter), who left Gemma for Cindy and followed her to London, before eventually too leaving Cindy as her expected modelling income failed to materialise. Desperate, homeless and pursued for gambling debts, John demands £50,000 of Gemma’s lottery winnings, holding Cindy and Simon to ransom with a petrol-bomb. Thus the play directs each of its characters to choose between money (and fame, in Cindy’s case) or family and friends.

While Face Value could’ve easily succumbed to a twisting and, at times, illogical plotline cut with an overly-clichéd central theme, the play is rescued by two things. The first is the high quality of acting on display. Each member of the cast gives a uniquely believable performance, none more so than the incomparable Clay Whitter, who flits seamlessly between a rogue, a childlike paranoiac and a menacing thug, truly terrifying when riled.

The second is Antonio’s clever and occasionally hilarious script. That the plot itself rightly borders on the absurd is exemplified by various revelations and backstories. It is later revealed, for example, that the ‘petrol-bomb’ John carries is in truth merely a bottle of (hopefully his own) urine. Cindy’s calamitous operation, we find out, is the result of a London surgeon who tried to make her look like his 40-year-old dead wife. And at the play’s denouement, where Simon tells Cindy the story of her parents, it transpires that they died while having sex in a brand-new sports car.

Such moments of silliness link the play’s critique of the beauty-industry and commercial capitalism as a whole. Face Value achieves its indictment by grotesquely parodying the desperation that money and the will-to-fame inspire. Both macabre and gratifying, Face Value is well worth its minimal entry fee and augurs well for Nowt Part Of’s future offerings.

Words: Mike Bowden.