Writer and Director: Samuel Rees
Helplessness is a brutal feeling. More so when it’s combined with the thudding impact of betrayal. The once stable ground upon which your life has been built suddenly turns to muck and you’re sinking. It’s this visceral, deeply affecting feeling that drives the central drama in Samuel Rees’ Snakehead. Based on the myth of Medusa, a woman who had her agency removed and was punished for faults perpetrated against her, the narrative provides a modern twist on a story that’s sadly been told since lips could move.
It’s told through spoken sections mixed with original songs and music (jointly written and composed by Rees and Max Weldon, performed on-stage by co-musical director Max Alexander-Taylor). As M, Sian Maxwell tells us of her summer romance turned potential long-term relationship with a rich visitor to her neglected East-Anglian town. Whisked off to London with him, her eyes are opened to a new side of life where the wealthy and powerful plot to improve their world without thinking of the others who have to live in it. After the relationship breaks down the various nude pictures he took of her start to appear in the press and she’s labelled as a predator and stalker. The relationship has been weaponised against her in an overt act of class warfare that leaves him unscathed and revelling in sympathy while her every feature is fuel for violent and harmful community dissection and discussion online and in the papers.
A compelling idea for sure, and has some highly effective moments. The execution is less than ideal, however. Maxwell shines vividly in the spoken sections, creating this character and carrying us through a wild emotional journey. Some of her singing performances leave us flat though. On top of this, the technical side does her a disservice: echoey at times in the small room, and too unmediated. A pop filter or something would be a much appreciated addition to the kit here.
More of a play with music than a musical, the original songs are also mixed bag. Composed for this production, the sound is highly reminiscent of the pop and electronic music of the late 90’s and early 00’s. Some ideas work, but none stand out as hummable, memorable tunes. Breaking the mould, the slower, more considerate balladesque Beach is a little gem both in performance and creation.
With the music and singer on stage, sandwiched between two rows of audience, it frequently feels like a gig. It’s a good vibe, and a strong idea, but the ideal is not attained. M’s story, though it ends a little hazily, is powerful. Resonant and upsetting it should make a viewer question further the content they see and react to in media of all types, consider the true motivations, situations and context behind those protagonists popping up on screens big and small.
The creativity and thoughtfulness put into how to convey a message this valuable is well deserving of applause. When all things combine in rare moments through the show it’s clear they’re on the right track. Those moments are too few and far between to make this good show, great.
Runs until 24 June 2023
