A Storyteller stands in the centre of a dark and silent stage. We are not quite sure who they are, or why they are there, and soon realise that we may never be wholly certain. Played by writer and performer Sam Ward (of theatre company YESYESNONO), we watch — a congregation of quiet voyeurs — as the strange and creeping story of Nation begins to take shape in the shadows.
Ward is a deeply charismatic performer with clear skills in sharp, haunting storytelling: the 60-minute performance given is electric. Pointing from person to person in the audience, Ward moves around the stage to compartmentalise each of us into the story of a town as a baker, a banker, a child, a dog. It’s a nice town. A sleepy town. A town with everything expected of it already there and waiting. We see it in our mind’s eye together. Yet, as Ward slowly circles around the stage, metronome-like and probing, and turns to look at each of us, the beginning pages of a violent, regrettable story begin to emerge. An awful, unthinkable thing has happened in this place — and we are all part of it.
An allegory that moves deftly through themes of nationalism, place, culture, collective perspective, and the darkness of choosing to other those around us, Nation sees the town — our town — catalyse itself into an odd, dread-inducing sequence of vanishing instances allegedly started by one woman inviting a stranger into her home. A roof disappears into thin air. Roads begin to morph and shrink. A farm ceases to exist. Suspicion and fear grow amongst the locals like fungus spores. As Ward’s writing and performance brings us through ever-building scenes of unease and stark confrontation, our conscience becomes increasingly aware of an uncomfortable collectivism and mounting regret. Dark, beautifully written — highly poetic at moments — with a style of staging that feels darkly inescapable, Nation cleverly turns the mirror on ourselves, and asks us to think about the horrid realities and consequences of false collective nostalgia.
Nation will run at Summerhall 17th till 19th and 21st till 26th August 2024
Words by Ambrose Kelly
