On Sunday April 18th, friend, treasured reader and patron to the flicker club Mark Rylance hosted an event at the Apollo Theatre, to coincide with the publication of a new book, 'We Are One' and the flicker club were thrilled support him.
© Marc Cowan/Survival
This prologue generates a concentrated atmosphere into which Mark makes his entrance escorting Julie Christie to reverent silence rather than celebratory applause.
Wearing a T-shirt featuring Native Americans framed by the slogan ‘Homeland Security Fighting Terrorism Since 1492’, Mark lights a furnace centre stage with a blue gas flame lighter then places himself stage left to oversee proceedings. Ms Christie then takes us delicately through the poem ‘Change’ by Kathleen Raine as if carrying a night-light in a breeze.
© Marc Cowan/Survival
Footage of women from a tribe of Kalahari Bushmen is played on the screen suspended above the stage and Mr. Brody highlights that they use nearly 145 different sounds in their speech compared to the 55 or so used in English. It becomes clear that the three key issues facing indigenous peoples today are to do with land rights, the trauma suffered through enforced relocation and the loss of language.
After a few more readings, the first half draws to close with Mark filling in for Kevin Spacey, by reading Laurens Van Der Post’s account of the Gana Bushman’s Fire Dance. This extraordinary ritual account ends with its participants collapsing in exhaustion just as the rains start to fall. It put me in mind of Jonny Byron’s raising of a Romany gypsy curse to invoke a tribe of ancient vengeful giants of Albion. Elemental stuff!
The lights fade leaving the gas flames flickering. In the half darkness, after a few moments silence, Mark raises some laughs when he says “I forgot about the fire when I asked for a blackout"
© Marc Cowan/Survival
During the interval under the quiet air traffic free skies of Shaftesbury avenue, we celebrate Juliet Stevenson’s impassioned reading of “What we went away for” by George Gosnell of the Nisga’a tribe from what is now Canada.
© Marc Cowan/Survival
© Lewis Davids/Survival
As I report this I am aware of being a bit name-droppy but I think part of Mark’s achievement that afternoon was to use perceived celebrity to raise awareness of a cause that he has a deep commitment to. I think there is sometimes a suspicion of actors when they come out from behind their masks of comedy or tragedy. When popular artists adopt an extra-personal cause, they are often accused of being flakey ill-informed goody goodies. However the gesture of Marlon Brando sending Sacheen Littlefeather to collect his Oscar in protest of how Native Americans are treated by the film industry or Sting appearing with the leader of a tribe from the Amazonian Rain Forest on Wogan has the effect of raising consciousness. If it irritates, that is interesting and if it inspires, how wonderful to be inspired! The tradition of the actor as political activist is much stronger in America than in the UK. Maybe the frustration at politicised actors is an aspect of that disease, which particularly afflicts the English, of expecting people to know their place. Actors are subjects of their patrons who should not step out of line. But when someone who has a respect for tradition is given a popular platform in a democracy, why shouldn’t they raise questions that preoccupy their hearts and consciences? Mark’s calling as an artist is a far cry from that of the careerist who does not wish to upset the status quo. He has a love of words and a profound connection to the imaginative life of the human spirit that is nothing short of miraculous. He also has a talent for bringing communities together and throwing a great do.
After the Factory’s opening rendition of The Bastards by Barbara Nicholson of the Aboriginal Wadi Wadi tribe, the mood shifts to that of the village hall for a raffle draw. Imelda Staunton becomes an impromptu auctioneer when the man who is in possession of both winning tickets suggests raising more money by auctioning off the prizes.
© Marc Cowan/Survival
‘One day we saw a beetle flying over the top of our house. It was a very big beetle carrying a lot of people. But they were not like us, they were a different people. It was a very big beetle which had arrived to dominate us’
© Lewis Davids/Survival
A group of musicians sporting acoustic instruments strike up a Celtic sounding refrain and are joined by a capering figure who comes bouncing on banging his ring finger on an elaborately carved log. This turns out to be Iron Maiden front man and commercial pilot Bruce Dickinson. His scorching arrangement of William Blake’s Jerusalem leads to a few audience members shooting to their feet, key amongst them are Daisy and Juliette, unwilling to restrain their inner rock chicks. As we make our way out on we all agree that the last number and indeed the whole afternoon has been a reflection of what theatre is all about; the finding of an expression of pure joy despite the human struggle with opposing forces. Sunday evening life on the streets of London seemed more vivid and more alive than it had earlier that day. And it felt good !
Alan Cox for the flicker club, thank you Alan x