Narrative

I’ve always has a soft spot for Anthony Neilson’s quirky, absurd, surreal work. They are often a bit loose and unstructured but they are always intriguing and entertaining, and simply unique. Sadly, I’ve just fallen out of love with them as No. 6 (for me) proves to be a self-indulgent mess.

It started irritating me when it opened with projections on a screen to one side barely visible from the other side where I was (lazy design), then a dose of overlapping dialogue meant you heard virtually none of it. What follows, from seven actors wearing T-shirts printed with images of their younger selves, are stories of vanity, self-obsession and inconsequentiality. It isn’t long before you don’t care about anyone or anything except how long 110 minutes can be.

The narrative is presumably about these people’s lives, some interconnected. There are some good moments – particularly the mystery of the anus photo (!) and life as seat selection on a double-decker bus, but they are just moments in what is otherwise a rambling mess, and a very long one on those bum-numbing Theatre Upstairs benches. Given Neilson’s colaborative working style it might be difficult, but I really don’t think he should direct his own work; an objective director alongside might just have pulled it into some sort of shape.

It was probably a good thing that I was sitting on the opposite side of the exit, because I suspect the temptation to walk would have otherwise been overwhelming, but in the end I really regretted I wasn’t on the other side!