One of the many highlights of going to the theatre is seeing a Mark Farrelly one-man play. His chosen subjects are always interesting people and his performance always does them justice. Tonight was no exception, writes Michael Holland.
We were met with a bare, desolate stage and the sound of seagulls and waves lapping a shore before Farrelly entered in overalls and holding a chair. From that austere entrance, and with his words, his body and a couple of simple props he became Derek Jarman, the film-maker, painter, writer, activist and gardener.
Jarman’s life is then acted out, somewhat chronologically, from early days of sexual experimentation at boarding school, a telling insight in to his parents’ attitude, university and his first job designing for a John Gielgud play. We are told his RAF father’s name was Lancelot Elworthy Jarman. We know exactly why he told us.
I had expected a backdrop of images portraying Jarman’s work in theatre and screen but, no, his life is painted in to our minds in vivid colour by Farrelly’s performance, minimal lighting (Laurel Marks) and excellent direction (Sarah-Louise Young). And, of course, Farrelly’s magical script that frames Jarman’s existence within succinct but perfect phrases: ‘Decadence is the first sign of intelligence’, was one. ‘We came to alter the world, not join it’, another. From his words we can see his garden at Prospect Cottage on a bleak, windswept beach, the many flowers growing in the shadows of the nuclear power station.
We hear how Jarman worked with Ken Russell on The Devils and he absorbed it all. The actor takes us to the once busy Butler’s Wharf in Bermondsey, left derelict after the docks closed down but now filled with artists enjoying the huge spaces as studios (a Blue Plaque commemorates Jarman’s time there). We trip out on acid on the roof along with Jarman and become mesmerised by London’s twinkling lights across the shimmering Thames. Here, under the night sky, there is a little ménage à trois created by Farrelly, two audience members and a bedsheet.
We are painted a picture of Jarman making his own luck, seizing every day, opening front doors and smashing down back doors as the 70s rushes on. He was allowed to direct Sebastiane, a film about a 3rd-century saint, aimed at a gay audience. Controversial, not only for its homoeroticism but for its Latin dialogue. Jarman relished the controversy. Oh how he laughed as he prodded and provoked the media.
The 70s gave way to the 80s. He was allowed to be involved with a film on Caravaggio at the height of his self-confessed debauchery. He describes the scene in a nightclub toilet as ‘men joined at the moustache’. The era’s hedonism, alas, turned, for some, in to HIV and leads us into the final segment of Jarman. He meets Keith – ‘the only person I ever really loved’ – who stays with him to the end.
Mark Farrelly portrays Derek Jarman as a man who always felt like a fraud, who was always waiting to be found out. Seeing his insecurity in adulthood echoes how we see him treated as a boy. We also see how Jarman was also never afraid to say no to work that would take the world forward. He blazed trails that still burn brightly now.
Derek Jarman had a slow and painful death and Farrelly puts us through the physical pain he suffered and the mental anguish of knowing that he was going to die young and before he had done all he wanted to do. We all died a slow and painful death with him.
See Jarman now.
Brockley Jack Studio Theatre, 410 Brockley Road, London, SE4 2DH until 14th May. 7.30pm. Admission: £16, £14.
Box office: www.brockleyjack.co.uk or 0333 666 3366 (£1.80 fee for phone bookings only)
Running time: 80 mins