Last year when the Battersea Arts Centre (BAC) announced that it would be doing the first UK one-on-one festival it sent a ripple through the theatre community and its audiences alike. Known for its daring and fresh take on theatre presentation, the One-on-One Festival confronted the notion that theatre requires more than one audience member. Like other BAC evenings, part of the joy was exploring the building itself, for the various encounters took place in every corner and space available. The festival was all about facing your fears, moving our of your comfort zone, and into the unknown – something that most audiences would prefer to not do. This is why the One-On-One Festival was needed, it forced us to rethink what theatre could be.
Having said this, I found last year that the focus of the festival was far too centred on the notion of ‘I’, forcing the spectator to question internally without being taken out of themselves. I bemoaned the loss of the ‘grand narrative’, the initial reason for attending theatre. Naturally I was eager to see how my perspectives had changed in the course of a year, and after much more theatre-going than the year before the festival.
What I found can only be described as a calmness. The first festival had an energy about it from the moment you entered the building, there was an excitement about each and every opportunity. In its place was clearly a highly organised evening with what came across as a much more limited audience – even with Kneehigh’s The Red Shoes taking place in the building at the same time. Perhaps this calmness was seeping from the newly built bedrooms, which see artists creating their own unique take on what a bedroom should be and then creating a one-on-one performance within it. The idea being that once the festival has come to pass, the bedrooms will stay in tact, giving artists and creators a residency space to live and work at BAC.
My first experience was Patrick Killoran’s Observation Deck, a piece that sees you laying on a plank before gently pushing yourself out of an open window. With your head looking up beyond the building into the skies above, you are given five minutes to ‘experience’. I spent my five minutes running an internal dialogue which went something along the lines of:
J: Well this is pleasant, bit of a breeze. [pause] Nice brick work on the buiding [pause] I wonder if I can go out any further? [Begins to push the plank out further] Oh my god, what happens if I fall? What happens if I push myself out so far that I just fall out the window? [Moment of realisation] Don’t be stupid Jake, they’d never allow it. Health and safety. [Looks to the side and down to the street below] Oh my god, I am actually laying half in and out a window. Fuck me I’m scared. [Grabs the edges of the plank] I can’t do this. [Pushes self back into the window with sweaty hands] I can’t do this. What if I fall? I’d die. Don’t be foolish. Being inside kind of defeats the point of this ‘performance’ Jake. [Slowly sides back out] Relax. Enjoy this ‘experience’. [Pause] An aeroplane! I’m actually looking up at the sky with an aeroplane! [Pause whilst watching the aeroplane] When did I last do that? Maybe as a child? We spend so much of our lives looking down and never up at the skies. It’s kind of beautiful. I wonder what I must look like right now? Stupid. Suicidal? Nah, it’s BAC, the local residents must get used to this stuff. [Usher comes back and tells me time is up] Oh, ok. Thanks [pushes self back inside].
It is an amazingly simple idea, laying on a piece of wood and pushing yourself out of a windows backwards. Some people might find a calmness in it, a moment for reflection whilst looking at the sky. Or if you’re like me and conscious of heights, you’ll cling to the edge praying you’ll live to tell the tale. The internal dialogue was the most important part from me. Killoran’s Observation Deck may be about the surroundings, the sky, or buildings beyond the BAC, but clearly it allowed me to observe myself, my conscious self. Clever, really.
During a moment’s break where we are meant to have “time to reflect” according to my menu, I found myself writing a letter to myself that is to be delivered 5 years from now in Post Present Future by Cross Collaborations. It’s a charming idea, and very similar to Search Parties’ work, but it was facilitated a lot less. Hopefully my 27 going on 28-year-old self will appreciate the comments I had to make. Most notably “you work hard, and you forget the amazing things you’re doing, don’t forget to take a moment to appreciate them”, and some words about staying in touch with family. I hope it acts as an alarm clock. I guess time will tell.
In Kazuko Hohki’s You Only Live Twice (But Die Once) which takes place in one of the new bedrooms, you are submerged into an oriental safe haven. As you lie on the futon on the floor, a voice crackles from the radio beside you, asking you questions and responding to your answers. The piece drifts nicely from the radio into an audio story through speakers hidden in the futon’s headrest. As you begin to submerge yourself into the story of a girl trying to fight her way through life, there is an unexpected twist that will most certainly bring you back to the real world. It’s rather simple, and whilst it relaxed me more than Observation Deck, again it didn’t make me go fully into the narrative, rather a slight dipping of the toe in the water. I almost wished that it could have been played out longer than the allocated 5 or 10 minutes.
It is here that I begin to wonder if my experiences so far have differed from the year before. I’m still thinking internally, I’m not really being challenged greatly, although Killoran’s Observation Deck really did provoke fear in me. Have I found my narrative yet? Have I submerged myself and believed in what was happened? Not really. It is time, or the lack of it, that really disappoints in the festival. Of course the ‘side dishes’ on your menu are meant to keep your appetite wet, but I just wanted more. Am I greedy? Yes.
Thankfully my final experience in And the Birds Fell From the Sky by II Pixel Rosso certainly took me out of my body (as the menu I had was meant for this purpose) and placed me in the narrative. You are given 3D video goggles to wear, along with ear pieces and thrown into a world that places you in the centre of a bizarre group of criminal clowns. I suppose in many ways the performance goes beyond 3D and enters the world of 4D as you get given items, or placed in a car, sprayed with vodka or just feel a breeze on your face. All of this is cleverly portrayed through the video goggles, where you are encouraged to follow the action by moving your head in the direction of the video.
And the Birds Fell From the Sky really engrossed me, not only because the quality of the video was outstanding, but also because II Pizel Rosso managed to take me on a journey that looked beyond me having to question myself internally. Being lost to the world of video goggles, and relying on the assistance of the company to move me around, was truly a joy. I only wish more of the One-on-One Festival had this feeling attached to it.
As a whole, the concept of BAC’s One-on-One Festival is groundbreaking for audiences, and if you are that is up for a challenge and an evening of completely extraordinary theatre experiences then this is certainly for you. If however you are like me and see an awful lot of theatre, my advice is to choose very carefully the menu you wish to interact with. If I am to attend again I would have to up my game a little and choose the more ‘challenging’ menu to really push my limits as an audience member. Whilst the festival is putting on some brilliant work, I worry that the calmness surrounding this year’s festival is showing that it’s becoming a little formulaic.
The One-on-One Festival at BAC is playing until 9th April. Tickets and information available online here.