Betroffenheit

Tuesday 31 May. We split up for the morning, Boronia heading into the city, I went to St Pancras station to sort out a place to leave our bags on Thursday, and then walked through the rain into Trafalgar Square, through a lovely burial ground whose name i can't recall, but which contains the grave of Oliver Cromwells daughter.

After I spent some time perusing in some antiquarian bookshops, we met up late morning at Dover Street markets (no longer located in Dover Street, but in Haymarket), an incredibly upmarket store selling clothes and accessories, many with four figure prices. We had lunch at the cafe, light and enjoyable.

We spent an hour and a bit in the National Portrait Gallery, which was very enjoyable. I enjoyed the section on the Tudors and their times, admired a replica of the Chandon portrait of Shakespeare, the original being on loan elsewhere, and spotted good portraits of Samuel Pepys and John Evelyn, both seventeenth century diarists.

After an hour back in Shoreditch, we headed out to dinner with Elisabetta and her partner Richard at a lovely Tapas Bar called Moritos in Exmouth Market. Then on to Sadlers Well for a performance of Betroffenheit. The word refers to a state of shock, or deep consternation.

And what an extraordinary performance it was. Directed by Canadian choreographer Crystal Pite and theatre director and actor Jonathan Young, the performance was a dazzling combination of confronting sounds, searching lighting, constraining spaces (at times actually compressing the physical shapes of the actors/dancers into miniatures of themselves. Above all, it combined dramatic intensity and brilliant choreography (including puppetry) to bring the audience into the mind of a person confronted with an overwhelming shock or crisis. All this was delivered with technical sophistication and precision and masterfully mixed to achieve a level of psychic symbiosis or empathy between the audience and the actors, and in particular, the plight of the main character whose mind is being shredded and reassembled before our eyes. After three standing ovations, we emerged with a sense of having experienced something quite special, having been granted access to the experience of deep shock without the associated pain. Strangely, it left me at least uplifted, as its ultimate message appeared to be optimistic and positive without in any way erasing the existence or meaning of the pain that inevitably accompanies any (or more appropriately) every life.

So after the previous days workmanlike performance of Romeo and Juliet, we both felt extremely privileged to have had the opportunity to be part of a performance which soars, and is truly extra- ordinary. Our thanks to Lisabetta for encouraging us to book tickets!