Knight Watch

Conjured from the words of spoken word artist Inua Ellams, accompanied by airy flutes and the primordial beat of drums, we are told a story of warring gangs and a city ablaze with riot. So far, so familiar. But Ellams’ verse brims with magical realism, enchanting everything from a light bulb to a tree with a sleeping consciousness. It climaxes with the miraculous purification of the city by natural forces. His delivery is charming and natural, and he is able to spin intricate, rhythmic webs of words with apparent ease.

But while Ellams’ poetry is lush and beguiling, there is something lacking from the narrative. Things happen – magical flutes, the resurrection of the dead, a near-apocalypse – that require a momentary suspension of logic, which audiences might find hard to relinquish. In line with this is the rather sketchy characterisation of the protagonists – we hear too little of the relationships between Michael, Lu and Swift, the idiosyncrasies of their characters, or the motivations which lead to their extraordinary actions, to care about the fate which might befall them.

Swift, who is at first described as “the fastest, most vicious Knight”, turns out to be just as idealistic and conscientious as Michael and Lu, as he tries desperately to stop the violence erupting between the two tribes. And it would have been gratifying to hear from a more antagonistic force; what we needed to really feel was a compulsion which led to the city’s inevitable self-destruction.

Despite this, 45 minutes of allowing Inua Ellams to wrap his words around you is far from a painful experience. What is clear is that Ellams’ writing and performance, not to mention his Fringe First award, show that he has definite potential.

– by Stephanie Soh