A Review of Serendipity Productions’ Engraved

Upon entering the Burton Taylor studio on a dark Hilary evening, audiences were greeted by the simple sight of a park bench. There was a peaceful sense of expectation as we were serenaded by The Vaccines (‘A Lack of Understanding’) and waited for what would turn out to be a sensory bombardment from an overlaying of voiceovers that grew in intensity before abruptly being replaced by silence. To describe the opening of the play as such suggests that it was an unpleasant experience and while it was certainly a surprising opening it was an example of a perfect creative design rather than a jarring start. The submersion into the mind of Darcey Willing’s George situated the audience in the head of the character, preparing them for the action that followed. There was the sense of the endless memories swimming non-chronologically through the character’s head while there was also the overwhelming sense of silence. For me, it felt like an excellent representation of the dichotomies of grief.

The use of silence within the play as a whole was undeniably powerful. George’s character represented that peaceful quiet that accompanies a person comfortable in their own skin, while the appearance of Liam Elkind’s Harry offset this. Harry’s fidgeting alongside George’s ease with the silence was masterfully performed, capturing that sense of an awkward meeting on a park bench. Of course, this was not merely a park bench but rather a bench facing family graves (in the case of George, a brother, and for Harry his mother). The whole play felt like a lesson in how to deal with grief, with the discussions ranging stories to tears to the purely arbitrary. Through the course of this single conversation, we as an audience we able to feel as though we truly came to understand these characters, their lost ones and the emotional journeys that their situations had forced them to take. Yet, despite the intensity of the situation, this range enabled a variety of depth and lightness rather than dragging the audience into the despair that can often come with grief. One such example would be the characters making up stories about those who lay beside their loved ones. Taking the information on the headstones and weaving lives for individuals who were dead enabled a (perhaps strange) sense of normality within the situation. Likewise, the arbitrariness of discussing headstones drew them out of the emotional depths of the recollections.

These recollections and the characters’ choice of memories to share with a stranger made up the bulk of the narrative. To share personal stories with a stranger is such an intimate and yet utterly impersonal experience, treading the boundaries of societal practices in such a way as to feel absolutely profound. They struggled to paint accurate pictures of their loved ones, people so entangled in their own existence that it is hard to see them from the outside. It was this situation, the love, loss, confusion and hatred of self when unable to recall something which gave the play its power and left me wondering how Erin Malinowski came up with such an idea. The use of memories in a non-linear structure enabled the play to create a sense of blending memory and reality, a concept which was further developed through the playing of noughts and crosses. This game was one of the few examples in which Harry’s character appeared to be helping George rather than the other way around, enabling her to open up and share something she had often played with her little brother. There was the sense of seeing a ghost as she slipped into teaching the game and found herself calling Harry by her brother’s name. The performance of this was excellently executed, as was Elkind’s ability to cry on stage (a skill that I always admire). In the course of these stories about life, so much of the emphasis was placed upon the dialogue rather than the setting. However, a special mention must be made for the ingenious use of only a bench for a set, as it ensured a maintained focus completely upon the characters and their experiences. Equally, the broken flowers and toy car, representing both the perfunctory rules of death and the bond between the two as Willing’s character shared the flowers between the two graves once she was once again alone. There was a poetry to this, a sense of a connection made, even if the two were never destined to meet again.

Sitting immediately in front of the writer, director and producer team and proceeding to cough throughout the play cannot have been greatly appreciated, but that does not mean to say that I did not thoroughly enjoy the performance. Both the writing and acting successfully enabled the creation of a well of feeling that did not contain itself upon the stage, but rather washed over the audience bringing us into the moment and allowing us to gain some sense of empathy towards the situation. It may not have been the situation that Harry anticipated upon first visiting his mother’s grave; however, it was the best experience he could have hoped for. Stunning performance aside, this was an invaluable lesson in grief and emotion.

Photograph courtesy of Serendipity Productions