Emily Hardy fills the cracks in the Cement with David Aula, artistic director of FallOut Theatre

by Emily Hardy

"I guess I don't really understand what theatre is. You can't be a car mechanic without knowing how to fix cars. You can't play the cello without understanding how to play. But, in theatre, we get to make it up as we go along, use what we like from its history and discard or reinvent the rest."

If you're fascinated like I am you might find yourself continually on the search for the latest idea, the wildest innovation and the most inventive approach – endlessly seduced by the form and its vast possibilities. If you live in London then you're often spoilt for choice; there's no shortage of creative, innovative work. But (and I'd usually pride myself on being fairly well versed in London theatre), you have to know where to look for it. Perhaps I had my head in a bucket for last year, but London's Vault Festival at Waterloo Vaults had, until now, somehow escaped my attention.

What brought my awareness to the festival, aside from the press release, was a Facebook invitation from FallOut Theatre to their adaptation of McEwan's novel, which I was fortunate enough to see when it was first staged in 2007 at the Cambridge English Faculty Drama Studio. Having seen the piece take its first steps, I was eager to see how artistic director, David Aula, had altered and reworked his baby since.

Waterloo Vaults isn’t for everyone, but I was instantly charmed. Approaching through the intimidating graffiti-clad tunnels, two things crossed my mind: Firstly, don't tell Dad that I walked through here alone this evening and secondly, I've not yet reached the auditorium and I'm already entering the dark territory of The Cement Garden.

Following a popular run with a week-long extension and a split critical response, The Cement Garden draws to a close, for now, on March 8th. It seems appropriate then to analyse the success of this production from hindsight with the artistic director himself. Aula and I begin discussing how McEwan's sensory language initially sparked this young director's vivid imagination.

"I visualised it. I found his descriptions of unreal or imagined events thrilling. I began to imagine the primal behaviour of the teenagers in the scenes in the cellar and the exulted, almost heavenly, release they achieve in the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms. I'm interested in how extraordinary everyday life is and how one's own home (especially as a child) can feel like the landscape of some huge epic drama. I was always daydreaming as a child; it was my way of experimenting, working out the world. I guess that's the same for me as an adult; I can find a way to make sense of things by experimenting with imaginary worlds...making theatre."

This compulsion towards experimentation drove Aula to adapt the novel.

"A friend of mine had written an essay on The Cement Garden about how space and levels work in the novel as metaphors for the psyche. I found that fascinating."

For those who haven't seen it, Aula really has experimented with the space, successfully extending this metaphor onto the stage by building a set on two levels, one quite high above the audience's heads with corners potentially hidden from view.

I dare to argue that The Cement Garden lends itself well to theatricalisation and Aula, obviously having been asked about this on more than one occasion, correctly picks me up on my sweeping simplification: "Well, it's not just that some things are suitable for theatre, and some things aren't. What attracts me is the potential to resist rules in theatre - to make it whatever you want it to be. And so in this respect I think the answer is that it doesn't lend itself any more or less than anything else to theatricalisation. To put it another way, I think everything could lend itself to theatricalisation. It's simply a question of who's there ready to theatricalise it."

And Aula seems 'ready' for it. He draws from personal experience to explain his interest in the story and its characters.

"I want to experiment; create imaginary worlds. I have a tendency to experiment with 'what might happen' and resist, in myself and others, a sense of 'what should happen'. This is a trait I have had since childhood and one that has at times allowed me an incredible sense of attachment to others - a sense of belonging amongst an ensemble of like-minded peers. At other times, I have felt isolated and frustrated. This, in my opinion, isn't dissimilar to the journey of the children in The Cement Garden, trying to work out the world through experimentation, finding moments of collaboration and moments of fierce competition. It's a story of solipsism and a story of togetherness - and these are themes that can hold rich reward, particularly for an audience in a medium like theatre; the experience of witnessing theatre is both deeply personal and necessarily collective - you can't escape your fellow audience members. Finally, I find myself drawn to stories about family. As the youngest of three boys (by a fair margin), and the only one in my family with a particular interest in literature and plays, I often felt and still do feel very different, and sometimes detached, from my family. Yet at the same time, I know that my fundamental understanding of normality will always be shared with my brothers and parents. The Cement Garden, in its dark and disturbing way, is the story of a family sticking together."

What the adaptation captures, in my opinion, that the novel cannot is a direct segue into the minds and voices of the characters themselves rather than that of the novel's single narrator. Aula agrees, broadening this point to include the voices of its creators. "The adaptation itself is told through a prism of many creative minds - so it isn't just Ian McEwan's The Cement Garden. It’s also mine and Jimmy Osborne’s play about family and death. It's David, Ruby, Georgia, Victoria, George and Chris' play made up of their feelings, their work. It's also my play as a director and about how I want to communicate with the audience. And it's the audience's play too. Good or bad, it's different to reading the novel which has a more 'one on one' feel."

Events, such as those outlined in the novel, are shocking, but they are also based upon real life and extreme human behaviour. My response to the story as told by FallOut was not shock, but sympathy and concern. I found it to be brimming with truth about adolescence, family and, as Aula mentions, experimentation. We discuss the overall audience reaction; Aula's response is both rational and characteristically humble. "First, I think it's important to remember that a play requires reaction or else is meaningless. This is why I find it difficult to understand why some directors and writers don't read reviews (though it's also important not to privilege a reviewer's reaction anyone else's). I'm really interested in the process of critical response and would love to pose some more serious questions about the role and responsibilities of critics in the theatre." As something I am also very interested in, and part of the reason for starting PostScript, I imagine we will absolutely be re-visiting this topic, addressing it in depth.

"I always suspected that the play would divide opinion. After all, the book did and does just that. It's interesting to wonder at what element people are responding to. Is it the staging and performances, the craft of the adaptation, the power of the story, the poetry of the words from the original play, the space itself? Is it their experience of the venue, the bar, the toilets, the street outside? Everything has been mentioned. When people tell me that they feel moved by the predicaments of the children, and 'on their side.’ when people say they like the feeling of secrecy in the space, when people say they are thrilled by the physicality and inventions we've come up with - that's all I could have hoped for. When people say they think some of the staging is a bit too much, or not enough, too long, or too short, too loud, or too muted, it’s difficult not to bridle - but it's all useful. We set out to take risks; there's always the chance that risks won't pay off - that some people just won't get or like what we've done. That’s all just part of the equation. Those same risks are the reason lots of people love it. One particularly interesting review said that the play is "a fable without much real world impact - as self-contained as a fairy tale" For me this is very helpful criticism, and has had me questioning what I would do differently if I had another go at it. Many fairy tales have incredible real world impact, impact that lasts centuries. I am still chewing over what The Cement Garden play currently 'does', if it needs to 'do' anything more than exist within its own world, and what I could do to elevate it to that level."

(This isn't a criticism that I personally agree with. I strongly recognised the story's wider context of child sexuality and the impact of missing parents etc. But then critics wouldn't be of much use to anyone if they agreed on everything.)

"The point is this: The feedback has become part of the creative process."

"Additionally, I keep one eye on the audience during the performances. The Vaults is an unconventional theatre space; people sit on benches and crane to see the show at difficult angles. There is noise spill from other parts of the festival and from the trains thundering overhead. But despite all these unusual challenges, I hardly see a shuffle, hardly hear a cough. I know people are with it, and that's all I need."

"I hardly see a shuffle, hardly hear a cough. I know people are with it, and that's all I need."

With the play's London run drawing to a close this coming weekend, I wonder at what Aula and FallOut hope to do next. "The Cement Garden has left me feeling energised but I feel like I've just got started. I'm interested in other works of literature and other literary figures. I think Ian McEwan who - as he recently put it is 'entering the toddlerhood of old age' - was a powerful voice among a powerful group of cultural icons in the UK in the late 70s, 80s and 90s. These icons still exist but it seems that, as they age, they are being replaced with the vacuousness of celebrity culture. I'm interested in him and others like him who manage to be both popular and intellectually provocative. Essentially though, I hope I have a long life, filled with new challenges in new forms...Perhaps one day, I'll even play the Cello."

Emily Hardy @Emily_L_Hardy

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