Along to The Phoenix to see Composed, Rosa Postlethwaite’s compressed deconstruction of a night at the theatre.
A witty and increasingly edgy one-person show, it even had the audience fretting about the content on the way into the theatre: “How loud is the scream?”/“Can I borrow the ear protectors?”
Rosa uses familiar first hand experiences of set pieces from a night at the theatre, comedy club, awards ceremony or an audience-based live TV show.
There’s the pre-show mood-music (Frank, of course), the Welcome, a list of Sponsors, various linking pieces (the act's not ready..., here come the dancers…)
But with Rosa’s portrayal of the spokesperson for the institution we see the relationship with the audience begin to fray.
Rosa’s performance tiptoes along the edge of acceptability, whilst she builds an inner rage at some of the situations she finds.
Maintaining an outward composure, look closer at her eyes, her expressions or her sometimes flailing arms and there is another angrier story being presented.
Rosa presents the impersonal dynamic of slots for hosting the show, against the backdrop of power of the institutional voice. She’ll reference the audience too, starting carefully, but then unravelling until she clearly crosses a culturally significant line.
Composed may be examining the micro-aggressions of a self-anointed institutional voice, but viewed wide, it is all too pertinent today in the political setting of rowdy politicians with their faux muted mood music as they hide behind the privilege and power of their organisations.
Rosa’s Master of Ceremonies provides hard challenge to many of the situations it represents, presenting a sharp new voice questioning both rituals and behaviours.
A cracking show.
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