Silverland is set in the near future, in a time of global warming and impending apocalypse. London is in anarchy and the realisation of its Olympic dream is about to turn into a nightmare. Benjamin Davies charts the tales of some of those affected by this forthcoming doom and does so over the course of five ever-changing seasons, culminating in a final, frostbitten, spring.
Five stories of two comic ravers, one stockbroker complete with feisty prostitute, one crazed scientist, one lonely and depressed fisherman’s wife, and a photographer and his architect girlfriend make up the entirety of this play. Unfortunately, no intelligent or interesting storylines, no charm, and no real wit can be included in that rather unique mix; this play fizzles out long before our ravers are done dancing to their “phat choons.”
Instead, and while occasionally being ‘treated’ to the incidental weaving of storylines, we are left with a mix of eclectic characterisations that neither develop beyond their initial obnoxiousness nor have sufficient depth of material to develop at all. Perhaps Davies should have concentrated on fewer stories and fewer characters and attempted to develop these to give greater depth to each and the production as a whole, as it seems he has busied up the cast to compensate for a lack of any real material and substance to his over-characterised city folk.
What’s more, another tale of apocalypse (albeit displaying homegrown devastation in a timescale that allows us to conveniently play on London’s successful Olympic bid) does little to add to what is an increasingly serious issue. Because of its complete lack of hope amongst the despair, the play does even less to play out a message, as is somewhere no doubt clumsily intended, of every person’s environmental responsibility.
No saving grace, but the production itself was executed admirably for the first performances of the Lacuna Theatre Company. The stage was well trod, aesthetically pleasant, and intelligently arranged. I particularly liked the projected art works of a decrepit London, pictures from photographer Gabriel’s exhibition we later learn. Nor did any of the cast let themselves down given the material at hand.
Equally, I enjoyed the friendly and intimate space of the Arcola Theatre in East London, (winner of several recent accolades including the 2006 Time Out Live Award) for its distinctive and gritty stage, punctured with steel girders. I look forward to going again, but to watch something considerably better.
by Jonathan Grant
The production continues until June 10 at the Arcola. (Online booking).
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