Written by: Derek Jarman
Directed by Neil Bartlett
It’s 30 years since Derek Jarman’s final film Blue was released, and in commemoration of the artist, who died shortly after the work was completed, his friend Neil Bartlett has brought together a cast to perform the film live. The film consists of one single shot of deep Yves Klein blue, soundtracked live by the original composer, Simon Fisher Turner, with Jarman’s words brought to life by actor Russel Tovey, poet Joelle Taylor, writer and artist Jay Bernard, and writer, performer and theatre maker Travis Alabanza. A conscious attempt to recontextualise the film in a new cultural climate, it’s a performance that shows how far we have come in many ways, how some things have sadly stayed the same, and above all, the enduring importance of this profound work.
The words, taken from Jarman’s diaries, were written as he was losing his battle with an AIDS-related illness. As his eyesight deteriorates, they become a meditation on the visual elements he can still perceive, focusing on the colour blue, the colour of heaven, of bliss, of “the universal love in which man bathes”. We’re brought into the experience of what it would be like to have our sight taken away, the blank single colour on the theatre screen representing not only the connotations of the colour itself but also the absence of the remaining spectrum. From the outset the blue is a meditative focus, bringing us into the mind of an artist coming to terms with the end of his life.
The fragmented speech is passed between the performers, mundane observations juxtaposed with poetic musings. There are moments of anger: the names of friends lost to the virus are shouted with passion, echoing with ghostly reverb. There are hard-hitting descriptions of Jarman’s illness and the hospital environments he frequented: a nurse trying and failing to find a vein for a blood test, the drips he had to be hooked up to, the long list of side effects of the drugs he was given. But then there are moments of humour: like the memory from his youth of Miss Punch Leather Woman, “the first out dyke he ever met”. It’s clear Jarman was still bursting with life until the end.
Perhaps most inspiring is Jarman’s political urgency. Not only in terms of AIDS awareness and the need to change perceptions of gay people, but also his continued passion for world affairs, from refugee crises – at the time, the war in Sarajevo was in the headlines – to wealth inequality. It makes for a fascinating study of how the world has and hasn’t changed in the past 30 years. We can imagine how Jarman would’ve rejoiced at how far we have come with HIV treatment and gay rights, how he would despair to see the world still filled with displaced refugees and growing inequality.
Tonight’s performance is really a perfect interpretation of what should be seen as one of the great modern art films. The words are delivered with passion and resonance by the four performers, representing a range of different voices from Tovey, an experienced stage actor, to Alabanza, one of the leading new queer voices in modern theatre. The voice acting is impeccable – you get the sense that everyone is vibrating with the power of the words. And the music is stunning. Turner’s ambient synths and found sounds are at times celestial and blissful, like a synaesthetic interpretation of the calm blue on the screen. Then there are bubbling washes of tormented distortion which bounce around the theatre, and bleeps of hospital monitors reminding you of the constant presence of illness. The sound design is masterful and controlled, worthy of the Theatre Royal’s booming speakers.
Some of the most affecting moments are the quietest. Silence is used to heighten the strength of the words and the colour bathing the stage, the presence of Jarman’s wisdom and vision. It’s a production that conveys a rich message of hope mixed with despair, life in the face of death, beauty in the midst of pain.
Reviewed on 7th May 2023
