Reviews Newcastle Published 11 November 2015

Sacré Blue

Northern Stage ⋄ 10th-11th November 2015

Attacking panic.

Andrew Latimer
A labyrinth.

A labyrinth.

You’re in a conversation with a friend and a stranger. Your right leg starts to rattle and then shake uncontrollably”¦ your left legs becomes heavy and locks into place at the knee”¦ there’s a sickness in your stomach”¦ a flood of adrenaline”¦ your heart starts to pound”¦ all your senses heighten”¦ you lose breath and begin to pant”¦ what is this?

Are you having a heart attack? Breathe.

No.

It’s a panic attack.

This sudden, overpowering experience is summoned and explored in Zoe Murtagh’s solo show, Sacré Blue, which feeds us through the whirring cogs of anxiety in a crystal blend of performance poetry and storytelling. Murtagh and director Tory Copeland were the winners of Northern Stage’s Title Pending theatre award this year, and have created an autobiographical show which seeks to forge solidarities and conversations about mental health and wellbeing. The space they create is one which we are encouraged to feel at ease in, to feel together in. Murtagh hurtles through her poetry, which rhymes off the racing thoughts during a panic attack, from bitter self-criticism to fear of imminent death, before cutting away to speak to us as participants, as confidants. She tells us two stories: one which outlines her own experiences, and another, more cinematic journey, of a woman whose life plays out over the crunchy autumn leaves of a sweet romantic comedy. This blurring of storylines is a gorgeous wavering between idealised plans and harsh, immediate distress, a darting between vigour and angst, peace and chaos.

Its soundtrack is enough to make you fall in love right there and then. The Slits, Electric Youth, Kate Bush, Red Aunts, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, FKA Twigs all bursting into life as spontaneously as the changing of scenes, as unannounced and as joyous as turning up at a last-minute gig. The space mutates from relaxed to buzzing to tense and loops us back through all over again. And the colours which help Murtagh’s poetry splatter off the stage – all cool blues and nourished greens – fuel the show with such energy that we can be zapped away from the knowledge that is a show about panic attacks. It is painted yellow-brown with all the colour that contemporary dark theatre lacks.

There’s a potent illusion embedded at the heart of Sacré Blue: it is offering its audience coping strategies, cheerful stories and warm methods of resilience but is in fact confronting a subject which is often concealed by shame and dread. It asks us to engage with what “health” actually is by providing a frequently messy set of conclusions about how we can best support each other and use theatre to both air and enrich our discussions around mental health. As a result, the show is a bit wonky, but there’s a beautiful thread here between the erratic nature of panic attacks and the frenzied scene changes. It could take us anywhere and lead us down any avenue, and is stronger because of it. As a piece of theatre, it doesn’t always fit together in satisfying ways but you almost wouldn’t want it to.

The show is a Labyrinth of the mind in which anxiety is the Minotaur. There are pathways to Greek myth here which could help Murtagh tunnel even further into her topic, to help establish a depth of story which could position the audience more actively. Twinning the immediate stress of a panic attack with a mental picture of the brain as a warren of dead-ends is an inspired one but Murtagh doesn’t leave enough crumbs behind for us to retrace our steps and follow her on that journey. She invokes Jim Henson’s 1986 fantasy film Labyrinth to conjure up the visual metaphor of the maze but it never quite rings true. Might there be greater experimentation with space and distance and solidarity to really guide and involve us in her life?

Still, Sacré Blue is that rare type of solo show which is fragile and rock-hard at the same time, twee and absent-minded but terrifying and immensely thoughtful. It’s a beautiful fragment of combustible ideas and coping mechanisms, a firing of neurons, a prismatic reactor of anxiety. It’s possible to see flashes of the brutal honesty of Ellie Stamp, Caroline Horton and Bryony Kimmings in Sacré Blue, with a conversational style often employed by the likes of Hannah Nicklin and Dan Bye, which gives the show that additional fizz of creativity, candour and alchemy. It’s a show which blows off steam about panic attacks but also warns them to back the fuck off, one in which the process of creating a dialogue around anxiety and mental wellbeing is equally as important as the final production.

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Andrew Latimer is a contributor to Exeunt Magazine

Sacré Blue Show Info


Directed by Zoe Murtagh and Tory Copeland

Cast includes Zoe Murtagh

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