Orca
About the Production
Midsummer. On an isolated Atlantic island, the community prepares to enact their hallowed annual ritual. The village must choose a new ‘Daughter’ to sail with the boats and bless the fishing grounds. Keeping them safe from the roaming pods orcas for another year. Fan hopes with all her heart to be chosen. But her older sister Maggie says she must never, never go with the boats. Because Maggie swears that something happened to her out there, but no-one will admit it. No-one will even talk about it. And no-one, not even Fan, believes her.
What the papers have said about ‘Orca’:
‘A world as soaked in myth and ritual as it is with salt water’.
‘Jaws meets The Wicker Man’.
‘An unnerving play about mythical ritual sacrifice that acts as a metaphor for the present’.
‘A gut-chilling reminder that the smallest communities have room for danger, and that often the biggest risks come not from nature, but from the people who claim to want to keep you safe’.
Winner of the 2016 Papatango New Writing Prize, ‘Orca’ is a dark, intense and thrilling piece of theatre – an unflinching insight into what makes a community tolerate the unthinkable.
If you enjoyed our 2023 production of ‘Machinal’ – another pitch dark and compelling play – we think you’ll love ‘Orca’.
Please note this play contains adult themes, strong language and portrayal of violence. We’d suggest it’s not suitable for children under the age of 16 – subject to parental guidance.
The Cast
Behind the Scenes
The Reviews
Coulsdon’s cast goes out to sea to deliver a complex catch
The latest play being performed this week on stage at the Coulsdon Community Centre is not to be missed, says KEN TOWL
The orca is, in many ways, not what it seems. Also known as the killer whale, it is no whale, but rather a species of dolphin. It has never killed a human, except, occasionally in captivity, and there have been recent reports of them either playing with or battering boats.
In a play redolent with symbolism, a play that depicts a toxic (to say the least) patriarchal society, the orca, a marine animal that lives in matrilinear pods led by post-menopausal females, makes for the ultimate metaphor.
Theatre Workshop Coulsdon’s latest production, Orca, the symbols land in quick succession, standing in for everything that is hidden. In a village rendered fearful of the orcas, villagers who either can’t or won’t say what they mean, the gaps, the silences, are filled with symbols. Everything stands for something else, something unspoken, unspeakable, the Dance, the Father, the Daughter, the Orca, the bloody gutted fish.
The cast is stripped down to five, easily the strongest cast I have seen at any amateur production. This is the cream of TWC’s talent. They are all worth a mention.
Indiana Scorziello impressed in last year’s ambitious production of Machinal. Here, as Fan, she channels tragic, vulnerable innocence wrapped up in a mischievousness that only heightens the jeopardy that she is in. As the danger she might be in becomes more apparent we, the audience, feel more and more powerless; we can only watch in horror.
Equally powerless in this village run by the Father (a palpably yet subtly menacing Richard Lloyd – there are no cartoon figures here) is Anya Destiney’s Maggie, a woman shunned by the village, a woman whose voice is not heard. It is a tough, complex role and Destiney masters it, adding layer upon layer of complexity.
Hannah Montgomery as the unfortunate Gretchen tells us so much using her physical presence as if to compensate for her character’s inability to communicate well by speech. She plays a woman who has been truly beaten down by her environment.
Finally, Mike Brown convinces as the hapless Joshua, a weak, failure of a man, branded a coward by Maggie. His betrayal of all of the women in his life hangs over him and all he can do is deny it to himself and strike out when it is impossible to avoid.
The scenery is stripped back too, and the sound, occasionally haunting wind instruments, is mostly just the sound of the sea. All the focus is on the actors and their words, and the lack of them. Consequently, this is a powerful and harrowing piece of theatre.
Seriously, you may well come out of it with a strong desire for a lie down or a powerful drink. As the programme, puts it, “You won’t be dancing out at the end filled with gaiety and lightness of spirit but we hope you’ll feel that you’ve seen a brilliant and important piece of theatre.” I think it is an important piece of theatre. It is both profoundly human and deeply political. It explores the way in which a corrupt elite can exploit arcana and ritual to divide, rule and oppress others. The tongue-tied apostate Maggie is like Winston Smith in 1984: she must learn not only to obey Big Brother, but to love him.
If you are of a resilient disposition, I recommend you go and see Matt Grinter’s Orca at TWC’s base at the Coulsdon Community Centre on Barrie Close just off the Chipstead Valley Road. If you go, I suspect you will remember it for a while to come.
Ken Towl for Inside Croydon, April 22, 2024
