Review: Project Dictator

What do you get when you mix fourth wall breaking comedy with totalitarian realities? A poignant, resonant, and painfully topical performance.

Some theatres are able to produce hit after hit, but with others it’s more of a mixed bag. I’d been to New Diorama Theatre back in January for The Winston Machine, which, while enjoyable, lacked a certain spark.I bought tickets to Project Dictator with a healthy dose of scepticism, unsure about its “the clown show about totalitarianism” premise. But I could not have been more wrong.

As the audience becomes immersed in the absurdist comedy of the first half, we become complacent – and worst of all, complicit in the horrors to come.

We laugh along as the bumbling career politician is replaced by his former accomplice – loud, obnoxious, and irreverent, a parody of dictatorship. We pledge our allegiance, chuckling as he commissions a portrait from an audience member. 

But the laughter stops suddenly as he pulls out a toy gun – ultimately harmless, but the message is clear.

The second half is much darker, as both lead actors are directed by a disembodied voice to dress themselves as Pierrot the clown, acting out sketches for the audience. Their terrified grins are plastered to their faces, emphasising the tragedy of their coordinated actions.

When one fails, he’s dragged away. We catch a glimpse of the torture, the fear, the distrust permeating their reality – the ultimate betrayal, as he sells out his companion, but also the chance for redemption, as they reconcile and join together.

And so it is – as people find their common humanity, we’re allowed to hope for a better future.

Project Dictator runs until 30 April at New Diorama Theatre.

There is a Light that Never Goes Out

I finished work, poured myself a glass of vinho verde in honour of this weekend’s misadventure in the Algarve, and looked outside. Struck by the brilliant sunshine, I imagined the long days of Midsummer.

And then a story took hold. The light would never fade, just grow stronger and stronger. Everything would begin to burn. Thus begins the end of the world as we know it.

But, well, I have the attention span of a fly. A fly who is trying very hard to be committed to its craft, but who can’t help but be distracted by other activities, such as chatting to its friends or eating.

So there the story ends. But maybe someone will take this pitiful premise and give it life. I promise I won’t come after you for royalties if you do.

Travels through Portugal: Faro

I’m learning to be a Stoic. More specifically, I’m reading Happy by Derren Brown and thinking of ways to apply some of his proposals for a more considered life.

This weekend has been the ideal test. Hoping for some alone time and inspired by solo travellers, I booked a few days in Faro with a vision of running on the beach and working from a fashionable cafe overlooking the marina. Things did not go according to plan.

I arrived Saturday morning to a downpour. This appears to be quite a rare phenomenon in the Algarve, because the airport was severely underprepared. Not only was the pavement so slippery that I saw several children fall over, but nowhere sold umbrellas.

Here I must confess to being influenced by Vitalik Buterin’s recent tweet asking whether anyone had walked from the airport before. Having discovered that the centre is only an hour’s walk away, I planned to join those answering “yes” to this question.

Maybe not from the airport, but I did walk there on the way back

I waited an hour for the rain to ease and eventually ventured out. Unfortunately, it was only a temporary reprieve before the downpour drenched me to my bones. Still I persevered.

I walked fifteen minutes one way, then the road ended. I turned back. I walked ten minutes another way, then hit a dead end. I gave up and decided to take a bus, waited 30 minutes and discovered buses don’t take card. Eventually I resigned myself to a taxi.

In the city centre, I walked everything in an hour, had a glass of wine in a rooftop bar, and headed to the hotel. The host recommended I take a boat tour, so I went to sign myself up. There wasn’t enough interest, so I was asked to come back in an hour.

I returned and realised my card had fallen out of my jacket pocket. Retracing my steps proved futile, so I paid with contactless and hoped I had mistakenly left it in the hotel room. Spoiler alert: I hadn’t. Luckily, I could easily freeze it, so no harm, no foul.

The boat tour was delayed due to wind, so I wandered around the marina taking photos. Eventually, we were invited onboard with the very talkative tour operator, who told us about the salt marshes and birds and nearby islands. Curiously, he didn’t actually tell us anything about its history or how it was formed, preferring to complain about the tide and how he’s expected to be on time when tours are booked back to back.

For the evening, I attempted to find myself a restaurant, but after an unpleasant encounter with a waitress in a popular venue ushering me out the door and another place not accepting card payments, I found myself at an overpriced seafood restaurant with no vegetarian options. The wine was lovely, I’ll give them that.

I had rebooked myself for a return flight on Sunday, and everything appeared to be going smoothly. I finally managed to walk to the airport and even beyond, going into the wetlands of Rio Formosa in hopes of meeting flamingos.

Unfortunately, no flamingos, but I did see some beautiful marsh tits and storks. 18km later, I made it back to the airport and quickly passed security in expectation of my flight. It soon began boarding, but all of the sudden they sent everyone who had made it onto the bus back into the terminal and said the gate is closed. Nobody knew what was going on.

Eventually, it emerged that there was a technical fault and the flight was delayed by four hours. So here I am, writing this up at the airport, appreciating a comfortable chair in Costa and unironically reading methods for reframing experiences. Given that I’m in a decently good mood, I’d say it’s working.

Update: The flight finally took off more than seven hours after the scheduled departure time and was not without incident. I was lucky enough to be seated on the aisle seat of an otherwise empty row, something that did not go unnoticed by the couple in the adjacent row. They asked the lady sitting on their aisle to move to mine, but before I could protest, she refused, saying she preferred the aisle.

As soon as we were airborne, I lay down, only to be jolted out of my repose by the man who had requested the seat change passing out as he stood up, falling backwards with a thud, and hitting his head against the armrest. Everyone panicked. A paramedic rushed to help, but was completely ignored by the stewardess (presumably because she didn’t fit the stewardess’ image of what a medical professional looks like), who started calling for a doctor. The lady behind me started shouting that the paramedic had just told her she was a paramedic. It was chaos.

Luckily, the man came to, but the stewards ushered the couple off to the back of the plane and the third passenger disappeared, so I actually ended up the only person on the entire row. But I made it to Gatwick without further incident, breezed my way through passport control, and was out the door. The only trouble was locating my husband, who had somehow come to a drop off point below the drop off point I was standing at. There were no signs anywhere to say there was another level, so it felt a bit Doctor Who in another dimension until we finally figured it out.

What an adventure!

Book(s) of the Year: 12 Books so far in 2022

Even though I’ve been finding it hard to focus on superficial matters, I want to get back into summarising my reading. It’s proven to be quite a useful method for distilling my thoughts. So, without further ado:

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

I never studied Tolstoy in school and while the stories fascinated me, I imagined reading them (especially in Russian) would prove too challenging. This could not have been further from the truth – his work is timeless. I can’t say I entirely agree with his perspective and philosophy, but there is certainly a beauty in the way these are presented. 5/5

The Authority Gap by Mary Ann Seighart

I’ve already talked about why I feel Seighart’s work is an important contribution to society, but I’ll say it again. Every woman has encountered the “authority gap” – experienced being  spoken over or undermined – but without evidence to prove it, it’s hard to elicit change. As we collect more quantitative as well as qualitative data, we edge closer to equality. 5/5

Britt-Marie was Here by Fredrik Backman

I read Backman’s Anxious People, reviewed previously, and wasn’t the biggest fan. As this novel was similar in tone, it took me a while to warm to it, but the characters were much more sympathetic. I particularly enjoyed Backman’s masterful depiction of how it feels to be a Tottenham fan (not one myself, but related on behalf of a friend). 3/5

Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products by Nir Eyal

As a product manager, I figured this book would be quite relevant in my career. And it was, to an extent. The main focus was on determining how much engagement results in a habit, using various apps as examples. The author did dedicate some time to the dubious morality of encouraging addiction, but I feel it could’ve been a larger conversation. 2/5 

Jog On: How Running Saved My Life by Bella Mackie

I really didn’t like this book. I bought it under the assumption that it would be motivational and help reignite my love for running, but it was really just a strangely academic mental health reference book, written in a disjointed, repetitive, self-indulgent manner. I thought of giving up multiple times, but I guess I’m a masochist. 1/5

Maid: Hard Work, Low Pay, and a Mother’s Will to Survive by Stephanie Land

I appreciated that this book wasn’t poverty porn. It was a genuine account of a woman trying to make ends meet in order to support her daughter and the challenges she faces. It’s an indictment of welfare in America, but honestly, much of her story can be extrapolated to other countries, even the UK, as Poverty Safari will attest. 3/5

Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman by Robert K Massie

Admittedly, I didn’t know much about one of the most influential rulers in Russian history, but I came away from this novel enchanted. Superbly readable, incredibly informative, I yearned to return to St Petersburg (though obviously that won’t be happening anytime soon) to see it through Catherine’s eyes. 5/5

Hello World: How to be Human in the Age of the Machine by Hannah Fry

As technology advances, important ethical questions begin to arise – are machines really objective? Or are they endowed with the subconscious prejudices of their programmers? The main takeaway, really, is that machines are great, but we aren’t yet ready for them to take over, rather they should supplement human skill. 4/5

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy

Another novel I’ve already discussed, but as this one has stayed with me long after completion, I don’t mind revisiting Tolstoy’s philosophical musings. Especially since his position on how our cumulative actions shape history resonates deeply in the context of the current war in Ukraine. 5/5

How to Kill Your Family by Bella Mackie

The premise of this one seemed interesting – a dark comedy about a young woman killing off members of her family in inventive ways. Turns out, the author is the one who wrote the disappointing running book, so unsurprisingly the style wasn’t great. The one decent twist happens at the very end, but still not enough to save it. 1/5

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo

Years of discrimination finally catch up to Jiyoung, and she starts disassociating. While the text itself was very informative of how women are treated in South Korea, the sociological focus detracted from the story – so much so that I wasn’t sure there was much of a story. But the descriptions of sexism, reflective of South Korean society, are infuriating. 2/5

Poverty Safari: Understanding the Anger of Britain’s Underclass by Darren McGarvey

This was as much a personal story as a collective one, offering insight into why many deprived communities seem unwilling to engage with politics and what can be done about it. In tracing his own journey, from misplaced anger at the middle class to ownership over his life, the author proposes intentional dialogue as the first step to finding a solution. 4/5

Review: The Marriage of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein

Never read reviews. Or do. Who am I to tell you anything?

I read the reviews for The Marriage of Alice B Toklas by Gertrude Stein at Jermyn Street Theatre and they were disappointing. According to reviewers, the play dedicates too much time to the famous men in Gertrude Stein’s circle and not enough on the relationship between her and Alice.

But honestly, I didn’t feel that way at all. I thought the actors did a phenomenal job expressing not only their love and devotion to one another, but also the points of contention, both within the confines of their own relationship as well as their relationship through the eyes of others.

And after all, the contextualisation seemed intentional. The comedy turned tragedy. The gaiety of a literary and artistic salon juxtaposed against the reality of homosexual love in the early twentieth century. We laugh at Hemingway and Picasso, but we mourn with Alice.

I can’t claim the play is a must see and you’ll regret missing it, but it’s certainly enjoyable. And as an added bonus, they give out free shot glasses of prosecco at the interval, which has raised my expectations of every theatre I will visit from now on.

The Marriage of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein runs until April 16 at Jermyn Street Theatre.

War and Peace

In the six weeks I haven’t written, so much has happened, and yet in light of world events, it feels insignificant. I switched jobs, I visited my grandmother, I helped relocate my aunts from Ukraine. I’ve seen friends, I’ve gone on trips, I’ve had nights out, and yet, it’s not the same. 

At the back of my mind, there’s a constant whisper that things aren’t as they should be. And while I’ve stopped reading the news for my own mental health, I’ve not ceased checking in on those affected. In interactions that seem almost unfathomable, my friends ask about my life while casually discussing the missiles they saw flying by while taking a walk.

While the endless stream of horrors is fatiguing, we can’t become numb to the suffering of the Ukrainian people. We must keep up the pressure on our respective governments, keep sending aid, keep caring, and keep believing.

When I started writing this post, I planned to summarise the 11 books I’ve read so far this year, but unsurprisingly, my thoughts ran away from me to focus on what truly matters. That being said, one book I read recently resonates strongly in the current situation.

That book is War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Despite being written about a different war under different circumstances, Tolstoy’s philosophical musings are as relevant as ever. Rather than a single figurehead responsible for historical events, it’s the actions of countless individuals.

In other words, while Putin is undoubtedly guilty, he would not have been able to put his plan into action without support of the Russian people. And while I don’t know anyone in London who supports this madness, the same can’t be said for their families back home. And that is a tragedy.

Maybe next time I’ll manage a post unrelated to the war, but for now, my heart is still in too much pain.