So the tour is now a week behind me – and sleep patterns have somewhat returned to normal.
Deleted Messages has been brilliantly caught on camera by Chris Schubert, one of the Lincoln audiences – have a look for yourselves here – www.c4design.co.uk.
The show is a curious study of rules, evolution, quarantine , imprisonment and – slightly bizzarely – freedom. It’s the audience who are free – free to engage with the show as they see fit. Where you look, what you do, how you engage is completely up to you. In a curious way the sharp white scenography suggesting control and imprisonment makes you feel part of a modern day Dickens story of debt, illness, and suffering – with the occasional moments of happiness and delight. By the end it is the audience who are performing – as the actors and dancers sit and watch.
As you might expect with this type of show it takes time for the audience to ‘get’ their role. Indeed the evening feels like one of those perfect diagonal lines on an x/y graph. At first its all 100% performance from BADco but gradually the audience takes more and more of a role.
Like Memories the show leaves you with a series of fragments and images – as well as a sense of terror. But its also strangely uplifting and playful – as you realise how much you can control both what you see and how the show develops.
So at just after 9pm the non existent curtain came down on BADco’s first UK tour. There was a collective sense of relief and exhaustion as we shared pizza , beer and wine in the green room. But just when we thought it was all over there was one more shock to come! Two things happened at ten thirty – the taxi arrived to take the company to heathrow and one of the company realised they had mislaid their passport.
Much panic, and some frantic phone calls later, we managed to get a resolution and the company finally leave Lincoln. The following day I’m wandering round Lincoln like a zombie when a text comes through ‘we’re home, safe and sound’ – followed minutes later by a phone call ‘Hi Matthew, It’s Jon from Exeter – Ive found a passport in the dressing room…..’