Blackwatch

I should have written this a week ago, when the emotional impact was still fresh in my mind and heart, but I think I couldn't write it last week when the emotional impact was still fresh in my mind and heart because it's literally taken me that long to absorb and process it.
As part of my New Year's "Be Involved" campaign (see entries below) I fought tooth and nail to get tickets to Blackwatch, one of two works by the National Theatre of Scotland being performed at CarriageWorks as part of the Sydney Festival. I literally managed to score the last single ticket left in Sydney. This production has already toured extensively around Europe and America and has received universally positive responses wherever it went, which is obviously part of the reason I was so intent on getting a ticket. On another, concurrent yet perverse level, however, it also made me sort of apprehensive, because I have had some bad experiences with art/theatre/literature/etc that is meant to be The Best Thing Ever and then is somewhat underwhelming (or, in the case of The God of Small Things, just plain hateful.) So I approached the performance - on Friday 25th of January - with excitement mixed with just the tiniest bit of cynicism - "surely no theatre is that good" and trepidation -"what if I'm the only person in the known universe to not like this show?"

Well. Suffice to say I shouldn't have troubled my pretty little head. I can safely put my hand on my heart and say it was one of, if not THE, most amazing peices of theatre I have ever seen and I am sure it is an experience that will stay with me throughout my hopefully long life in said industry.

Because the National Theatre of Scotland have unfortunately packed up and departed our fair shores without most of my constituents having been privy to this performance, I feel no hesitation in spelling out any plot details.

The play is derived from interveiws, conducted by the writer, with a particular group of soldiers who had left the Black Watch after being on a recent tour of duty in Iraq. The Black Watch is the oldest regiment in Scotland and possibly in Britain - important facts like this tend to escape me, go Google it or something. Anyway. So they're in Iraq. And these are tough, Scottish highland boys who want to be soldiers - who have been soldiers for many years - who have been to Iraq before, and Kosovo, and other places. They're not stupid. This is their job. They enjoy it and they're not expecting it to be easy. But from the begining of the play, we know they've left and they're not going back. Why?

The play explores this issue in conjuction with the fact that part way through their mission, the Black Watch - previously a distinct and distinguished and honoured regiment of the British Army - was being amalgamated into the general corps. So they're out there, in a desert, 42 men doing a job that hundreds of Americans had been doing before them, wondering why they're doing it, and then the one thing that they're fighting for - their identity as The Black Watch - is taken away from them.

Combining verbatim interveiws, fictional scenes, battle sequences, video projections and more expletives than even I could shake a stick at, Blackwatch is not really a political play. That is, it does not set out with a political agenda (and thank fuck, and someone should tell Australian thespians to sit up and take note that not all theatre has to Be About An Issue to be about an issue) but it cannot help but come to the conclusion that the Iraq war was and is a monumental fuckup. But more importantly, it is about the people. About why these men are fighting, and what it is like to be fighting. The characters refuse to be pigeonholed, which made it so unbelievably watchable. And emotional. And...connecting.

By the play's wrenching conclusion - the audience watches three characters blown to pieces by a suicide bomber and they fall, suspended on wires, from scaffolding, covered in blood, for a full minute - I felt truly bound to every person in that theatre and in that cast. I wanted to turn to the woman next to me and offer to give her a hug.

As a theatre student, you here a lot about actor-audiences conncections and the catharsis of theatre and all this sort of thing. You know, that truly great theatre involves the audience in a genuine and truthful moment and allows us to surrender ourselves to a different reality. That by allowing theatre to generate certain emotions within us we can feel a certain therapeutic release. You know the stuff. And it all sounds great in theory, on paper, in class. And sometimes you even get close, watching stuff in class or at the STC or wherever. But in the back of your head, you're thinking, it's probably just a little bit of crap. Theatre can't really change the world. This is a self indulgent art form. There will always be a point at which the audience stops and the stage begins.

Well, ladies and gents, I am here to tell you, it ain't so. It doesn't happen very often, but truly, there are diamonds in the sea of shit that theatre can be. Sitting there in this old warehouse, watching these young Scottish men mime the words of love letters, I truly believed that if I could make one other person feel as intensely as I did that night with any work I do in the theatre, life will have been just that little bit more worth it.