Theatre
Alex Dodd
I guess the intention behind the current extended run for Popcorn was something to do with giving local audiences a taste of hot, buttered global pop. After the runaway success of last year’s Shopping and Fucking, Real Concerts – better known for having brought Skunk Anansie and Massive Attack out here – must have figured that West End or Broadway hits with lashings of sex, drugs or violence were a sure-fire bet.
Personally, I’ve never been able to get over the problem of South Africans doing American accents and usually spend half the play anticipating the moments that an Aussie twang comes through in the not-so-muted guise of a Southern drawl.
Also it seems a bit absurd that we’re living in one of the crime capitals of the world and still have to import plays that examine the psychological and sociological motivations behind violence in an American context. Surely at this stage we’ve been subjected to enough violence ourselves to come up with something original to say about it. Aubrey Sekhabi sure did. Not with My Gun, his searing examination of race and violence that turns Poporn’s central motif of the hostile intruders on its head, was truly gutting.
So, is my argument that we simply shouldn’t import plays? That because local is supposed to be lekker we should gorge ourselves on our own output and become myopic? No. It’s just that when stuff gets imported, it should be chosen with the intention of filling a deficit, meeting specific needs.
There’s a lot of fresh and dangerous cultural production out there on the global market that we are missing out on. But we did get to see Natural Born Killers on the big screen years ago, and after witnessing Oliver Stone’s celluloid blood fest, Ben Elton’s play on the same subject seems kind of tired. My suspicion is that the world has moved on from the observation that screen violence begets real violence begets screen violence.
And Robert Downey Jnr did such a good job of playing the journo who’d go to any length to file a gobsmacking lead that Elton’s TV crew in underpants left me cold. The loud rock music that introduces the play was the first clue that this attempt at cutting edge might not be quite as edgy as one would hope.
So that was my problem with Popcorn: that the script should have been more countercultural or ground breaking to match the publicity campaign that painted the production as the edgiest play of the moment.
Taking it as a given that this was the script the actors had to work with, I’d argue that they did a damn good job of it. The accents were better than usual. The performances were convincing and at times, like the stocking strip show, deeply thrilling. Nick Boraine brought his own wild energy to the part of the trailer park psycho on an ego mission from hell, and modulated those mood swings with crucial restraint. Amanda Lane was complex and sexy, holding the audience’s attention as the lolly-pop sucking babe with a taste for a murder. Sean Taylor was a strong axis.
For a night of crackingly good entertainment, I’d say Popcorn is a must. It’s sexy and thrilling in parts and it showcases the talents of some of our best actors and actresses, but really, it was dated when it played last year. Why bring it back?
Popcorn is on at the Civic Theatre in Johannesburg until April 30