By: Kathe

Kathe — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 16:27:20 +0000

And that subversion of scale, as you note, roughly reconstructs our own assumptions: especially when it happens in “real” life!

By: Clive Hicks-Jenkins

Clive Hicks-Jenkins — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 07:05:47 +0000

This adaptation of ‘A Doll’s House’ looks extraordinary, and Kathe I can quite see how it might relate to the world you’ve been conjuring in UtP. In everyday life little folk have to inhabit environments where everything is built to the scale and convenience of the big guys. In this production by placing actors of mixed sizes into a meticulously constructed set tailored to fit the smallest of them, the expectations of the audience are wonderfully subverted. I’ve been thinking about size a lot recently. I’m 5 ft 3 ins, though I’ve never in my life felt particularly short. Certainly my height didn’t seem to affect my career as an actor beyond the fact that occasionally people who saw me in person after a performance remarked that I looked a lot taller on the stage. That, I guess, was down to my own carriage combined with the illusions and devices of an audience viewing a world through the portal of a proscenium arch. (A word of advice to shortish actors: when on stage wherever possible keep a distance between yourself and others. Remain downstage when others are upstage and vice versa. Really, it works!) However recently I had a moment of uncomfortable epiphany in an Aberystwyth supermarket. I wanted a particular brand of eco-friendly toilet cleaner… we have a septic-tank and bleach is not good for it… and the bottles were on the very top shelf. I reached up to test the distance. My fingers could barely curl over the lip of the shelf, and moreover the bottles were set back. I looked down to see if there was anything safe to stand on to gain a couple of inches, but the bottom shelf looked too flimsy to test. After checking that no-one was looking, I launched myself off the ground in a mighty leap, but only succeeded in knocking the bottles backwards, even further beyond my grasp. I leapt again, and again. I took of my coat to gain a bit of extra reach. By this time I was getting frustrated. Then I noticed a man pausing between aisles, staring at me. He was plenty tall enough to help, and I looked at him with an expression of wry amusement and expectation… at least that’s the effect I was aiming for. Perhaps I failed, because he turned away and sailed on with his trolley. I struggled to get that bottle for another minute or so, making mad jumping/scrabbling launches. The trolley-man glided by to get another good look at this spectacle, but still no help forthcoming. Finally it dawned on me that I’d completely lost any vestige of dignity for an elusive bottle of damned eco-toilet cleaner. I briefly considered walking to the checkout to elicit a bit of help, but finally decided against having to explain to a woman at a cash register that I couldn’t reach a product. It all seemed too futile and embarrassing. Of course I was wrong. I should have braved it out, and next time I shall. But it made me think more about scale, and the wretched supermarkets and their lofty towers of produce, and about how people these days are a lot taller than they were when I was born. For most of my life I have not been short, but now I discover that I am. That’s strange and discomforting.

Comments on: Size matters, Part II

By: Kathe

By: Clive Hicks-Jenkins