War of the Worlds – Belgrade Theatre

[dutchman]

It’s 1968, a pretty momentous year in history. The war in Vietnam has reached a turning point with the infamous My Lai massacre. Over here, Enoch Powell, a charismatic speaker, has found himself de facto leader of a populous movement following his incendiary Rivers of Blood speech in which he sowed the seeds of xenophobia, which led to protests involving the far-right.

Will Travers has found himself swept away by Powell’s hate-filled oratory and is now a card-carrying member of the National Front. And, despite the protests of his wife, Evie, he heads to London to rally and make his voice heard. But all doesn’t go to plan. In the melee, he is severely injured and falls into a coma.

The first several minutes of the play find Travers trying to make sense of what happened while he was comatose. It’s all terribly confusing to him as he staggers around the hospital, which has become deserted. Through windows, he glimpses fire and ominous shadows, set to an eerie soundscape from James Hamilton and Rory Howson. Horrified and scared, Will desperately seeks Evie in the deserted streets of London.

Several of the characters and episodes from HG Wells’ book make appearances – the Artilleryman and the Curate, for example, both trying to make the best of the new situation even as things look hopeless. But Will’s paranoia, fuelled by Powell’s rhetoric of hate, overtakes him and he behaves like a wounded dog in his quest to get home to Evie, and maybe to France, where, he’s heard, things are more normal.

And everywhere he goes, the heat rays from the grotesque metallic tripods follow as the invaders kill and take prisoners indiscriminately.

Imitating the Dog are known for their use of technology in their productions, and this is no exception. It is, undoubtedly, a technical tour de force. Everything on stage is seen through the dual lens of live action and the eye of the camera, projected onto a huge video screen, keeping our focus firmly on Travers’ perception of events. At one remove, it’s a masterclass in the use of models, minimalist set and props to create a slick and fast-moving video narrative, while also allowing us to marvel at the ingenuity. Credit there to designer Abby Clarke. There’s a fine line where the importance of the medium overtakes that of the message; Imitating the Dog remain just on the right side of that line.

The performers move with choreographed grace to create a multi-camera extravaganza, as well as playing all of the roles. It can be a bit disconcerting to see a cast member concentrate on fluid movement, holding a camera steady, only to snap in and out of character in the blink of an eye, which can make some of the characters – the Artilleryman, for example – feel slightly caricatured. In this, and only this, sense, the dazzling production values can detract slightly.

The first act is a touch disjointed – following the confused mindset of Travers at that point: it’s only after the interval that the narrative really begins to stride forward, and we discover the impact of Travers’ indoctrination on his actions.

Gareth Cassidy is Travers. His single-minded sense of purpose drives him on as he becomes increasingly unbalanced and his actions more extreme. It is only when we meet the level-headed Evie, played with increasing despair by Amy Dunn, that we get a glimpse of the man he might have been had he not succumbed to Powell’s crusade. Bonnie Baddoo and Morgan Bailey complete the cast, bringing the characters Travers meets, as well as the medics striving to save him, to vivid life.

Ultimately, this is an intelligent and unsettling reimagining that uses Wells’ invasion narrative to interrogate how fear and ideology can take root in times of social upheaval. While its dazzling technical ambition occasionally overwhelms character detail, the production’s urgency, inventiveness and chilling contemporary relevance ensure it leaves a lasting impression, long after the tripods have disappeared from view.

https://www.thereviewshub.com/war-of-the-worlds-belgrade-theatre-coventry/