| This Vote Deserving of a Big Vote |
Television Arts Feature |
| Donmar Theatre- the Vote , More4 , May 12, 2015 |
The Vote” is not theatre of Wales but it is theatre in Wales, or a version of it, artfully timed to be there in the hour and a half before the last chime of ten o’clock on 7th May and the declaration of the exit poll. It is a conception of boldness, not great television drama, because it does not have the medium’s tools of cut and edit, but fascinating, and cheering, on several levels. At a time when indigenous television drama itself has given up the ghost, and sagged into cops and spies, bio-drama and candle-lit Heritage, it is evidence that there is a vitalism to a plain old analogue art form, feet tramping on wood. The reasons are various; “cheaper and less editorial interference” says Peter Morgan. Josie Rourke’s vast cast of a production has to stand in as election theatre for the smaller nations. She has the advantage of the sheer gigantism of London. The Donmar has an assured audience where that in Cardiff is volatile and undependable. But London also has the advantage in that its theatre-makers do not regard themselves as a branch of English Heritage or Tourist Board. There is also the advantage of a sharper, more delineated politics. “The Vote” is set in a tight Lib Dem-Labour marginal. A real-life television debate of a couple of weeks ago from Southwark had a heat and bitterness that does not exist here, and gratefully so. The issue was new housing, not even on offer to citizens of London. Developers and salesmen sell the lot to the owners of flight capital from Asia. That is 2015 Bermondsey and it is never going to be an issue in Leith or Splott. “The Vote” also has a writer. James Graham is a writer with a particular advantage. “The Absence of War” has a non-part of a character called Bruce who wears a double-breasted suit. He is a BAD PERSON. As a matter of historical record those suits of 1997 made the Good Friday agreement, the minimum wage, the Senedd and Holyrood. Graham in interview reveals that he has himself cast his vote at different times for different parties. The lack of a clear ideological posture in the face of issues of some complexity is, he says, an advantage in writing a work like “the Vote.” He is also from a former mining town and yet to write a scene featuring mournful miners. The average polling station with its air of quiet seriousness is not obvious material for action. Graham has researched some of the facts which he puts into the mouth of polling clerk Kirsty. Deaths occur everywhere and aneurysm and heart attack have hit the rare unfortunate elector in the voting booth. Two clerks must be at the desk at all times. The fifteen hours-and-beyond day may not quite be in tune with the Working Hours Directive but the clerks get double pay. It is a job in its own right in addition to being a local authority employee. “The Vote” is also a celebration of the London of 2015, for good or ill, with a relish in its sheer mix of age, background and income. The shopkeeper from over the road mentions the hit to his sweets sales when a primary school is taken for the election. Confusions over identity, misplaced papers are all in the normal run of things. Bill Paterson is a truculent caretaker. Bankers are on equal terms with the voter on his way to the night shift. “Oh, you must be of these hard-working people we've been hearing about” says the breezy official. Political campaigning is forbidden within the polling station. James Graham invents a serial single-issue candidate, hoping to sustain his three hundred count. His one issue is a circulatory road system and he is enraged at the misprint of his slogan. “One-way? No way!” has had question and exclamation marks exchanged. One of the characters is a television journalist from Sweden, who bursts in with “It’s one of the oldest democracies in the world, and this is where you come?” “The Vote” is among other things a celebration of those thousands of civic spaces brought into service from the Scillies to the Shetlands. A London reviewer wrote a little haughtily “against the odds, our stubby-pencil system somehow works.” In fact those civic spaces are not just both tradition but here to stay. The same voices can be heard advocating that the vote be reduced to the level of a social media “like”. Not one of course has ever written a line of secure code themselves. In a recent election in New South Wales sixty-six thousand voters entrusted their choice to a software out-sourcer before a security hole was revealed. And the electoral law of Britain is adamant. The ballot is secret, and not for sharing with Cheltenham and Beijing, Capita and Serco, and every hacker from Antwerp to Vladivostok. The energy of “the Vote” is propelled by the plot device of a double vote. On 7th March, it was thought, a miscount in a marginal might just tip the balance. Think Florida 2000 which changed the world. In that regard “The Vote” is already history- Simon Hughes went down by four and a half thousand- but it is an honourable piece of theatre history. “The Vote” is conceived in a spirit of seriousness but merriment. One aspect shows up how limited is the camera in capturing what is happening on a stage. It is not just the one hundred and eighty degree span of the eye’s vision compared with a dim rectangle of a slice of glass. The Donmar audience rocks with laughter. It’s a communal thing. On a sofa home at home that release of laughter comes down to a smile. |
Reviewed by: Adam Somerset |
This review has been read 2046 times There are 28 other reviews of productions with this title in our database:
|
