The arts have often been used as a medium to raise the awareness of issues that perhaps go unnoticed by the majority of those in society. Often a silent minority within our communities that deal with day to day pressures that you and I perhaps take for granted. The more intimate the story that is told in relation to the issue, the more we feel the need to empathize, not just on a personal level, but also from a political and social standpoint.
I can close my eyes and still hear the baseline thumping, the monotonous sounds that accompany the spoken words, unrelenting, one after the other, delivered with ferocious ferocity at a speed that makes my brain struggle to keep up. It is incessant, persistent, unremitting, unyielding, remorseless, an undercurrent of words, sounds and light that is continually pushing me deeper under water, and as I come up for air, I am dragged back down, drowning in the myriad that is this bewildering concoction from Kieran Hurley. Heads Up.
There is no denying what a production such as ‘I Capture the Castle’ brings to the world of theatre. A packed house, bums on seats, an audience happy to indulge in the escapism of an adaptation that allows them to snugly wallow in the cosy world of yesteryear.
Taking your seat to the latest offering from Sh!t Theatre, Letters from Windsor House, you are immediately hurled into the show. Main players, Louise Mothersole and Rebecca Biscuit, are already on stage, adorned with requisite trademark greasepaint, sat on a sofa, drink in hand, listening to 80s synth rock cheese classic ‘Alone’ by Heart.
Taking your seat to the latest offering from Sh!t Theatre, Letters from Windsor House, immediately prepares you for what is about to transpire. Main players, Louise Mothersole and Rebecca Biscuit, are already on stage, adorned with requisite trademark greasepaint, sat on a sofa, drink in hand, listening to 80s synth rock cheese classic ‘Alone’ by Heart. This informality is pretty much the spirit of what our senses will be subjected to for the rest of the show.