[2015078] Cut by Duncan Graham
Hannah Norris @ Holden Street Theatres – The Manse
7:30pm, Wed 25 Feb 2015
Anyone who’s been in The Manse knows what a tiny, intimate space it is… and with early viewings of Cut generating a huge amount of buzz – the kind of breathless buzz that precedes awards and commendations – these were certainly hot tickets. In fact, when I eventually slotted Cut into The Schedule, there were only a trio of performances that weren’t listed as sold-out.
Each member of the tiny audience is individually greeted by Hannah Norris, already in character as an airline stewardess, at the door; we’re carefully seated in the venue with their backs to opposite walls, nine on each side: it’s uncomfortable facing other people about three metres away. Once the entrance is shut, Norris explains that we cannot leave via that door: if anyone feels claustrophobic, or requires assistance, they were to use the safe-word: “Cut.”
There’s a slightly nervous titter in the audience, and I feel a hint of claustrophobia… and then, with an unnerving wall of noise, the lights plunge to an inky black. There’s a collective gasp in the audience, and you sense smiles wavering.
A small, faint light appears, and Norris is on the opposite side of the room… there’d been no sound as she’d moved past, no whisper of her passing, so it’s a little bit of a surprise. Her monologue begins: it’s early in the morning. She’s applying makeup, preparing for her next flight out. She think’s she’s being stalked.
But a blunt shift in lighting seems to change her perspective: we switch from a cool, professional persona to one that is wracked with fear. And we spend most of the performance flitting between these two states, never quite sure which one – if not either, if not both – is “real”.
And it’s an utterly terrifying performance, with the staging and the claustrophobia and the lack of surety all weighing heavily on my mind. Hannah Norris is utterly superb, completely selling these unsettling characters and completely filling the space. But of equal import is Elizabeth Gadsby’s design and Sam Hopkins’ custom lighting system; they, along with Russell Goldsmith’s unnerving soundscapes, seem to heighten the tension.
Cut was the best kind of installation theatre, tricking most of my senses into accepting its world. It’s one of those shows that I felt happy not being able to recommend it to people (due to its sold-out status), because it’s tough to rave about something so… dark and bleak and brutal. But I raved about it anyway.
(78) Cut: Brutal narrative. Stunning sensory direction. Intimacy makes it sing. #ff2015 #ADLfringe
— Pete Muller (@festivalfreakAU) February 25, 2015