Civilisation

I don’t know where I first heard about this production, but the hype on Twitter was enough for me to instantly buy a ticket to Antler Theatre’s Civilisation. It’s masterful in many different ways: it is the picture-perfect example of how to show, not tell, and it is unafraid to embrace a multitude of genres, mediums, and art forms. I definitely will applaud an experiment, no matter how spectacularly it fails or succeeds, and this is one of those experiments that produced, for me, mixed results.

Before we even begin, we instantly recognise the set as: pure, domestic realism. The maroon carpet, the cheap glass dining table, the clothes rail behind the IKEA-esque platform bed, bouquets of flowers, and sentimental cards on a skinny back table… is this a kitchen sink drama? And, who died? Then, an unnamed woman (Caroline Moroney) arrives dressed in all black, barefoot, with her hair in a towel. Instantly: she’s getting ready for a funeral. No words have yet been spoken, and we have all that we really need to know. The rest we just assume based on, perhaps, our own experiences of grief. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me blasts whilst the unnamed women preps for the funeral. Is this going to transition into a fantasy? Nope.

Civilisation is not afraid to introduce new media to elevate the realism in front of us, but nearly every time, it seems simply tacked on. The lovely choreography, courtesy of Morgan Runacre-Temple and dancers Alethia Antonia, Emily Thompson-Smith, and James Olivo, is brilliantly pedestrian, quirky, and at times very funny. Each time the dancers enter, whatever movement of grief experienced is interrupted. I’m unsure, however, what the function of this interruption/intervention is. Are these dancers inside of the woman’s mind? Are they external figures? How do they change the world around her? Are they there to annoy? To comfort? To confuse? To clarify? The play's action is equally unphased by the music throughout the piece, which includes quite a few bops of the disco, dance, and Mo-town varieties. No matter what action takes place on stage, little is changed by the addition of such (dare I say?) bangers.

Here lies my main frustration with Civilisation. There are such ripe opportunities to explore these complex themes of grief, loss, coping, getting through. And yet, the music and dance, both beautiful aesthetic additions to the piece in their own right, fail to add much to this conversation. In turn, I’m left foggy-headed when I should be left with a barrage of questions.

Civilisation is touring the UK this September.