“We’re talking about it, but what are we doing?”

I hesitate to say that I’m reviewing a piece of theatre; what I saw at Chapter last night wasn’t theatre. I don’t mean to disparage the performance, but it was most definitely a presentation as opposed to a piece of theatre and that’s why I’m finding it so difficult to ‘review’, in the true theatrical sense of the word.  I’m not entirely sure from which angle to write this, and although reviewing theatre can be extremely daunting, this is undoubtedly new territory for me as a critic.

 What I did witness was a wonderfully moving, fantastically raw piece of truth, delivered to us by our war veterans who feel completely deserted and neglected by their country and government, hence the title ‘Abandoned Brothers’.  As sufferers of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the narratives were delivered to us by the veterans themselves ensuring immediacy, and therefore contributing to the potency of the performance. Ordinarily, no matter how good a piece of theatre or how steeped in ‘real life’ it claims to be, we are always slightly removed because it is delivered to us by actors; individuals who are relating a handed-down story, individuals who have not necessarily experienced these things themselves.  It was easy to get completely lost in these compelling narratives, only to be jerked back violently to the reality that this was their reality when a cast member forgot a line, or began to display genuine, painful emotion.  The role of the audience was completely inverted; we were put in a position that was sometimes uncomfortable, but extremely privileging. In my opinion good theatre should be cathartic, but this kind of documentary theatre provoked a more intense reaction.  At times, it felt like we were intruding on these memories and stories, but it is this hard truth which needs to be heard in order for action to be taken; one of the main desires of the veterans was for awareness of their disorder to be increased. We were told with stark honesty that a tsunami of PTSD sufferers was coming our way. Such statements are terrifying but extremely motivating. Theatre should provoke such feelings, and the performance certainly did this. Brecht teaches us that we shouldn’t get absorbed into a piece of theatre; we should be reminded that it is artificial. But it wasn’t artificial; these stories were so real you could almost touch them.

The role of women in the piece gave the performance an even richer perspective. These women, the ones left at home whilst their nephews, husbands, fathers, brothers fight in horrendous wars, who subsequently become the carers of the sufferers who return home, mentally scathed by such atrocities. These women, who effectively give as much of their lives as the men do for their country; they are also heroes.  To a degree, the piece dealt with identity; the veterans still felt defined by their service positions. It had been a lifestyle, where they had met some of their best friends, and then to be discarded understandably felt like their identity was being ripped from them.

There was a certain amount of directing and performance about the piece. The studio was decorated simply but effectively with different jackets from different Royal Services, and an acoustic guitar accompaniment ensured scene shifts ran smoothly.  There was a large screen which displayed pictures and pieces of PTSD art, whilst voiceovers from various veterans filled the studio creating the perfect ambience. This presentation by Re-Live was inspiring and compelling, but it also carried a much more significant purpose; to motivate and raise awareness of a specific issue which arguably goes relatively unnoticed by the majority of the public. By opening up this bubble to an audience, awareness can begin to spread and the action can start. Pieces of documentary theatre like ‘Abandoned Brothers’ certainly seems like an appealing and potential solution to open up the floor for the discussion of such taboo issues. Re-Live certainly seem to be taking the first step in the right direction.