Tag Archives: Flathampton

Midsummer Bacchanalia, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 23rd June 2012

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As part of their Festival of Chaos, the Royal and Derngate organised a late night Bacchanalia on Saturday 23rd June to coincide with Midsummer’s Eve (almost). Part feast, part party, part performance; “expect the unexpected” was the strapline, so it was a voyage of trust as we went into the unknown.

It turned out to be mainly party; and, in keeping with the R&D’s Dionysian summer, one that got steadily more alcoholic as the night went on. Clustered slightly anxiously outside the Royal Theatre Circle, we were suddenly beset by a noisy and welcoming bunch of characters who greeted us like old friends and encouraged us into a side room – that I now know to be the rehearsal room – decked out in gold wall hangings and giving a pretty good foretaste of the hedonistic self-indulgence to come. Uncertain what would happen, some people sat on chairs, others on the floor; Mrs Chrisparkle and I in our usual unconfident party manner clung to the walls for security. We started off with a dramatic introduction from the theatre’s storyteller Jo Blake Cave. She has a charming style and natural authority; and she used her skills to good effect to stimulate the imagination as she wandered round giving her account of the birth of Dionysus. And with something of a flourish the party began in earnest.

There were five or six main characters – I’m not entirely sure who they all were – but one was the DJ in a gold lame dress, and we thought his music was pretty funky and enjoyable. There was another man dressed all in leaves – not quite sure what that was about; then we had an entertaining couple in the form of a dolphin, who only spoke “deep deep neep neep” type noises – but very eloquently – accompanied by the pirate Acoetes, who every so often sprayed the delighted dolphin with water to keep him moist. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that Dionysus turned a bunch of wicked sailors into dolphins, but that Acoetes was always on Dionysus’ side and became a priest to Dionysus as a reward. Whenever the dolphin got things wrong Acoetes would take him back stage for some physical corrective abuse. That’s not part of the legend – that was on Saturday night. It was a funny act. The dolphin also mixed some mean rum cocktails which he was generously passing to all and sundry. Acoetes had more than a passing resemblance to Dr Zee from Flathampton. I bet you never see the two guys in the same room together.

Exhorting everyone to dance was the savagely wounded King Lycurgus of Thrace, which by all accounts is a very dangerous place to go, I couldn’t recommend it. He may have been wounded, but he was well up for a party. His white shirt was soaked in blood and every time he got near her, Mrs C covered up her proudly newly acquired white Levi’s jacket lest it be contaminated from his dripping wounds. Fortunately it survived. There was a very jolly lady whose identity I didn’t quite catch – she might have been Semele, (Dionysus’ mum) – not certain – but she was helping everyone to scoff cherries and cumquats dipped in a chocolate and toffee sauce. I remarked that the offspring of Semele should be called Semolina. Apparently Euripides left that bit out. Then this lady who may or may not be Semele came back with some round white chocolates covered in coconut which she described as her “balls” and which Mrs C and I were required to feed one to each other. They were very nice. When she came round again I fancied another. She accused me of already having helped myself to her balls. My eyes pleaded for more though, and I got it. I’m just lucky that way with hedonistic women. By the time the evening was coming to an end she was sailing around with a bottle (several actually) of Sainsbury’s Port, some of which she lobbed heartily in Mrs C’s glass, more of which she just swigged out of the bottle. It was getting very decadent by this stage, as you can tell.

We were just politely wandering round when a young lady dressed in a dark cloak beckoned to us and encouraged us to go on a journey with her. Always happy to oblige, and with a group of other similarly enticed partygoers, we followed her and her colleague out of the party and into the deep dark secret areas of the theatre. Well, past the toilets to the Underground Studio actually, so not that secret; where we were met by some cavorting nymphs welcoming us to Delphi. We were to take a look round and then join them for tea. Sounded nice. In the middle of the floor of this verdant paradise another lady was lying prostrate. She was the Oracle, we were informed, and once we were taking tea we were invited to ask the Oracle any questions. This could have been very funny indeed, if perhaps we’d had a bit more to drink than we had done, but actually no one could think of any questions and it started to feel slightly embarrassing. Some questions were eventually forthcoming, and the Oracle, true to her word, came up with some pithy answers. The kindly Oracle girls gave us all a coin which they said would be necessary on our continued journey.

Our guides told us it was time to go but they had a special treat for us – to visit the Boatman. So we left the Underground and turned into the Royal Stalls. After much knocking, eventually the boatman answered. It was Charon – not Sharon, as he pointed out. It was highly irregular for us to be transported by him across the River Styx, but as we all had coins for him, he’d make an exception. We followed him in his imaginary boat until we ended up on the stage of the Royal – which was very interesting in itself, to be behind the lovely Safety Curtain, and see the little message written on the back – and also to find that one was basically part of the set of Blood Wedding. Charon told us to wait – and that the light might fade – and out went the lights and we were left darkling. In the pitch black, the storyteller’s voice emerged and told us the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, how she could follow him from Hades, until he looked back…. In this slightly spooky environment Mrs C clung on to me for dear life and I don’t suppose she was the only one. Afterwards Charon released us and sent us on our way to meet King Midas, resplendent on his throne in the Royal Circle foyer. A welcoming king with a welcoming handmaiden, we ate golden grapes and got gold streaks painted on our faces. He wished us good luck on our way. Mrs C noted I had tried on his golden gown last year at the Flathampton Fashion Show. Just because everything he touches turns to gold, there’s no reason not to be occasionally thrifty as well. Once we had solemnly sworn not to tell a soul about where we had been… oh damn, I’ve told you now… we rejoined the party.

By the end of the evening, the Oracle and her girls, Charon and King Midas all made their way into the throng. Midas – I’d dropped the “King” title by now – told me I was looking good for my age. I took it as a compliment. The lady with the bottle of port wanted a dance, which was difficult as I had no time to put down my glass; so it was just a quick cavort. Bloody Lycurgus came and chatted her up and shortly afterwards they were seen giving it all on the dance floor. Just before it was all over, our storyteller returned with a few final words about dear old Dionysus. I was kind of expecting him to make an appearance, until I realised he was of course already here – in the wine, in the food, in the decadence. We toasted him with what was left in our glasses and the party was over. Everyone seemed to have a good time; if you’re the kind of person who swings naturally into party mode with a load of strangers it was the perfect opportunity for fun. We’re not quite like that, but we still enjoyed it and very much appreciated the great effort put in by what must be dozens of people to run the party and perform its entertainments. I understand there was a plan to go on to the Black Bottom Club afterwards and continue drinking until 3am, which originally we thought we would do; but as we had to be up early the next day, we decided against it. Sense prevailed. Take that, Dionysus.

Review – Flathampton, Adults only show, Derngate, Northampton, 29th July 2011

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Having seen one type of unique entertainment last week, here is another refreshingly different way to spend an evening at the theatre. Essentially, this is the adults only version of a kids’ show, where the seats of the Derngate are ripped out and replaced with play mats depicting roads and roundabouts, shops and other municipal buildings, but all one-dimensional as we are in Flathampton now, where the supine is king.But Kate comes back to Flathampton from the big city and shows her old friends a new way of life, based on three-dimensional solid construction, so the Flathamptonites can now experience – in depth, literally – real shops, a real hospital, a real fashion salon and more. The Flathamptonites needed our help in assembling these flat pack pieces into proper buildings, but we were more than happy to oblige.

Happiness is the order of the day. From the moment your bus collects you from your bus stop, (you won’t get anywhere without your bus pass) and you whizz around the theatre foyers en route to Flathampton, you’re busily chatting away to your fellow travellers, waving to the box office staff and ushers, and even the Chief Executive was merrily waving us on to our destination. It’s as though the entire building has come out to wish you a happy playtime. Once you’re in Flathampton, you get befriended by one of its leading inhabitants and shown the ropes of the Flat Lifestyle. We were with Matt (I think that was his name) in the Clothes Zone. But when Kate arrives and drops her bombshell of Another Way Of Doing Things, it’s up to you now to teach and encourage the locals how to be 3D.So I helped construct the fashion shop, and brought the dressing up clothes in (on a jolly heavy rail), and as a result Mrs Chrisparkle and I were the first on the catwalk, me with my full length black leather coat and deerstalker, she with her green gossamer gown with ivy trimmings. I also put on the ambulanceman outfit, but felt that was going just too far.

Then basically you wander round the town and play at all the stalls. We hobnobbed at the Silent Disco with two members of the Our Country’s Good cast; exchanged our cash for Flathampton Pounds (1 GBP = 1 FHP) and bought two Flathampton Royale cocktails (and they sure packed a punch); played Roulette at the bank and we both won, which meant we got to wear the Top Hat; played Play Your Cards Right at Jeff’s Store, which somehow was both a store and a TV studio;got to present the Flathampton News on Live TV, which is shown on a large screen in the auditiorium; and visited Flathampton General Hospital where the slightly unhinged Doctor Zee prescribed me a Vodka Shot to help me get over my dose of Chronic Uncertainty that I apparently presented.

If it were just a question of us wandering around and playing, it would be fun and different, but generally unstructured. What makes this all really rather splendid is the introduction of a narrative throughout the evening – Kate’s arrival; the official catwalk show; and Kate’s surprise party, where themes that had been building up throughout the evening get resolved. So it actually becomes a mixture of play, promenade theatre and improvisation. Personally I always find promenade theatre really thrilling. You are right there in the thick of it, with all the actions going on around you. I remember seeing The Passion at the National Theatre Cottesloe back in 1979 I think, with the late Mark McManus (aye, the original Taggart, no less) as Christ with his amazingly bright blue eyes staring me in the face and condemning me for betrayal, only to find I had Judas standing right behind me.I have instant recall of that feeling; the shudder that it gave me remains with me to this day. That’s the kind of effect this kind of theatre can have on you. OK, Flathampton doesn’t deal with such weighty subjects. But in its own way it’s a real thrill to be part of it all. The improvisation aspect comes about as you engage with the characters,because you never know what they are going to say, and much more significantly, they don’t know what you’re going to come up with. I got personally involved as a Go-Between between the rather timid Doctor Zee and the young lady of his affections, and got her address and phone number on a piece of paper for him. On his behalf, I ascertained she was single and he let rip a massive “YES!!” with an air-punch. Great stuff!

It’s a tonic for the soul, allowing you to dig deep into your recollection of your own long lost youthful playtimes. I reckon this show could become the model for corporate events, team building exercises and the like. You could attend as part of a big group, or you could go on your own and make friends. It all seamlessly rolls together, sometimes you don’t quite know who’s an actor and who’s a fellow guest, which is rather entertaining in itself. With the assistance of a little online research I can reveal that among this talented cast are Frank Wurzinger as the loopy Doctor Zee, Jenni Jackson as his much beloved, Leigh Kelly as the multi-tasking Jeff and the engaging Michael Imerson and hilarious Becky Kitter on the catwalk. Thanks to Flathampton TV’s Laura Osei-Bonsu for use of her photos. Let’s hope they bring it back for a third season next year, and maybe increase the number of adult performances. I’m sure it could become a real cult show!