Fence (tour)

“We like to imagine a world without frontiers. But the barrier merely moves. We dismantle one only to erect another.” So says writer and director of The Fence, Howard Barker.

He also adds, in rather extensive programme notes, that there is no greater satisfaction for an audience member than to say they did not understand the play, but they felt it. “If the play has no message, the performance of it has a message for theatre itself,” he says. “Rather than the stage becoming a lecture hall or a forum for sociological reports, it should luxuriate in its metaphorical character, its poetic discourse and its triumph over the narrow, suffocating agenda of social realism.”

That being the case, this critic is a little perplexed. From the opening funeral sequence, through the revelations of a Duchess having an incestuous affair with her blind son, who believes he is her nephew, to her nightly visits to the fence where she allows herself to be taken sexually by any number of nameless and faceless men, the story (such as it is) plods along with silences and self-indulgent wanderings long enough to walk the length of the Great Wall of China.

Whether or not the piece achieved Barker’s goal for the rest of the audience, or at least those who stayed for act two, I couldn’t say, but I found myself returning after the interval for no reason other than to try to make some sense of the overlong, verbose and confused goings-on.
Unfortunately, the additional hour did little to unravel the tangled web.

Tomas Leipzig’s set featured, as one might expect, a series of walls, barriers and fences, and row upon row of babies Moses’ baskets lowered from the flies. The play is at least visually effective and the piece is technically flawless.

Sadly Barker’s Wrestling School of actors were less accomplished in getting across their complex lines: many were rushed through or inaudible in the large Rep auditorium, and for a seventh-row seat everything should have been crystal clear.

The performances at the Rep marked the premiere of The Fence, and maybe it will develop as its short tour progresses. This critic, however, won’t be returning to find out. American composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim intended audiences for his 70s comedy musical Company to laugh themselves silly during the show and then not be able to sleep that night. I spent The Fence trying to make sense of it all, and was glad to forget all about it. But don’t take my word for it. See for yourself, and please add a user review!

– Elizabeth Ferrie (reviewed at Birmingham Rep)