Preview: People, Places & Things, Bristol Old Vic

Headlong, National Theatre, HOME and Exeter Northcott’s acclaimed co-production People, Places &Things (“a vivid tale of acting and addiction” – The Guardian) visits Bristol Old Vic next week (Oct 24-28).

Emma was having the time of her life. Now she’s in rehab. Her first step is to admit that she has a problem. But the problem isn’t with Emma, it’s with everything else. She needs to tell the truth. But she’s smart enough to know that there’s no such thing.

When intoxication feels like the only way to survive the modern world, how can she ever sober up? Following a critically acclaimed, sold-out season at the National Theatre and, People, Places & Things comes to Bristol as part of a UK-wide tour.

“Jeremy Herrin’s production…slams down with that characteristic Headlong rush” – The Observer
“An emotionally shattering performance” – Evening Standard

Here is writer Duncan MacMillan to tell us more.

I wrote People, Places and Things out of a number of factors, one of which was what I perceived of as an inaccuracy in the way addiction is usually treated in popular culture.

Our culture tends to either glamourise or stigmatise addicts, make them into morality tales/victim narratives/punchlines, or otherwise ignore the realities of addiction, both for the addict and those around them. I wanted to write about the process of recovery, which tends to be underrepresented in discussions of addiction also a subject which is fraught with controversy and debate. The more I looked into it the more I struggled with some of the central aspects of the support structures offered for addicts. I found the whole area irreconcilably contradictory, morally, intellectually and emotionally. I wrote the play, in part, as a way of grappling with that contradiction and to find a form for my anxieties and uncertainties on the issue.

All pics: Johan Persson

On a more practical level, there also seemed to me to be a worthwhile challenge in focusing on recovery. It seemed to me that one of the reasons recovery isn’t always dealt with accurately in popular culture is that it inherently rejects the kind of narrative structure that drama craves: we want a beginning, middle and end with a cathartic pay-off that provides meaning and a clear message. The reality of recovery is that it’s an ongoing process with no end. It’s a daily struggle for your whole life. That seemed to me to be a provocative challenge as a writer – to create something without a beginning, middle and end which rendered its content inaccurate or exploitative, but which could deliver a satisfying whole story to an audience.

I knew early on that I wanted it to chart the experience of a central protagonist, that that protagonist should be a woman and that we should see and experience everything from her perspective. I wanted to get away from the default starting-point of a male protagonist and it didn’t feel particularly justifiable for me to simply present a woman from a place of objective judgement while she goes through a personal, private hell. I wanted us to be with her the whole way, to find a way to stage the sensory, emotional and physical extremes she is going through.

Quite apart from the central issue of addiction, I wanted to write a story about mothers and daughters. Stories of fathers and sons are, in some ways, the backbone of American and British drama but stories about mothers and daughters are depressingly rare.  I also wanted the play to pass the Bechdel Test (where at least two named women talk to each other about something other than a man). I wanted the central conflict to be gender-neutral, and not to revolve around wanting to get married or finding the right man.

A huge amount of research went into the production. Neil Brener from Priory has been particularly supportive. We’ve been taken into meetings, heard people’s life stories. There has also been a lot of accidental research too. The play has one of those titles which will mean nothing to most people but it will mean something very specific to a very particular group of people. I’ve had instances where I’ve been in conversation, for example in the queue at an airport or chatting to a hairdresser, where I’ve told someone the title and they’ve shown me a tattoo on their forearm or told me how many years they’ve been sober.

PPT, Credit: Johan Persson, 2017

Everybody is connected to addiction in some way, whether it’s themselves, a neighbour, a sibling, a partner. There’s a moment, as a writer, when you embark on a project and suddenly realise the weight of responsibility to deal with the issue accurately, respectfully and without sentiment.

We need to be able to talk about depression and suicide in a way which doesn’t make us want to kill ourselves. The only way to do that accurately and to take as many people on board is to make it fun to watch, to normalise it and to take the stigma and taboo out of a very weighty, depressing subject.

I’m delighted with the reaction the play has received. A huge amount of the success is due to the incredible production values, and such a powerful cast. It was never intended to be a commercial show: it’s about a difficult person being difficult to other people who are in a difficult situation! It attempts to pose a lot of complicated and contradictory ideas, and is quite dense and difficult in that way. It’s been humbling and gratifying for all of us that this production means something to so many people.

The play also explores theatre as artificial, fake, ridiculous and irresponsible in some ways. It’s irresponsible to make a play about something as broad as addiction or depression, whose real-life structures and complexities don’t conform to tidy narratives. It’s a play largely about the effectiveness and point of theatre. Is it OK for us all to sit in a room and spend money on tickets, travel and childcare, to go and listen to a room full of middle-class people talking about their tiny problems? Is that a worthwhile use of our resources? I’m still very conflicted about that, but there’s something about going through the process of writing this play, researching this play, spending time with people who are having the experiences that this play depicts which makes me think that there is something very worthwhile about coming together, to share stories and to take ourselves seriously.

That’s something theatre does better than any other art form: it interrogates, it exposes, it reveals and it responds.  At its best it gives our empathy a workout and expands our emotional and intellectual vocabulary.

People, Places and Things is at Bristol Old Vic from Tue, Oct 24 to Sat, Oct 28. For more info and to book tickets, visit www.bristololdvic.org.uk/people-places-and-things.html

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