Torn (James Mills)

Torn by Faux Theatre is an emotive and passionate piece of theatre that is told with great heart and humility. Often physical theatre can be scary for the casual theatre-goer but Torn manages to throw this idea out the window and, despite having no dialogue, this is one of the most accessible and sympathetic shows I have seen.

The piece itself is simple in form – but that’s not to say it isn’t complex. It revolves around a woman, played by Artistic Director Francisca Morton, who has suffered the painful loss of a loved one – whether this is through death, a break-up or something else is up to the audience to decide. Despite the heavy source material, Torn remains constantly charming and often very funny and reveals a very effortless human experience that will take you on a journey through joy, fun, sorrow, loss, desire, envy and acceptance. Anybody who has experienced any form of loss will readily relate to this strong performance.

The presence of a live Foley artist,  Barney Strachan, adds another layer of performance. There are times when you can see him preparing a sound-effect you recognise and you understand exactly what this will do to the character on stage and you cannot help but laugh at the anticipation. Of course it adds far more than just humour and it lends itself massively to creating texture and depth in the piece that would not be possible otherwise. Strachan is, in equal parts, removed and connected to the performance on stage and it is all gels together beautifully.

 

When Physical Theatre is done correctly it should be open, accessible and immensely enjoyable. Torn achieves all of this effortlessly and is not to be missed.

Torn (review by Liv Klingert)

Torn is performed with great sincerity and humour. Although it deals with the trials of infatuation and heartache, these themes are portrayed with warmth and compassion. The mise-en-scene carries echoes of Disney’s Paperman but Torn shows what love can be like through a subjective point of view.

Unlike Paperman which ultimately lead the characters towards love, Torn is a portrayal of love which leads to loss; a broken heart isn’t unlike a paper torn ( pun intended).  Fransisca Morton is a great performer in this one-woman-show; exploring the inner life of a heartbroken woman sounds  depressing but Morton’s portrayal of relationships and the individual’s subjectivity in this is captivating. Barney Strachan uses sound and scene in a very innovative way and the play between Morton and Strachan is light, humorous and fun to watch.

The use of enormous amounts of paper on the stage and Morton’s use of these adds to the sense of the inner workings of the individual which combined with the sound adds a sense of playfulness to what could otherwise be a tricky subject to broach. These various elements combine to make Torn a very enjoyable piece. Well played.

 

Torn (A review by Isabel Stott)

Clutching a crumpled white paper programme we enter a dimly lit world of white paper, paper, paper, paper…

A single light bulb hangs from the ceiling, alongside a similar sized crumpled ball of paper hanging from a thread; symbolising the meeting of two worlds – the human and imaginary – which is about to unfold, in paper and plot.

A paper bath, a paper cupboard, a paper chair, toaster and floor. A single man with a single microphone stands to one side in the warm light, surrounded by an array of household objects. He dons a pair of high heels with such dead pan expression that the audience giggles, and as he crunches over gravel, we imagine a paper woman’s footsteps approaching her paper house…..

Torn tells the story of a woman longing for love, whether it be a love lost or a love not yet experienced. A single human interacts with paper objects; the angrily red lined paper of a bill alongside an equally angry facial expression, a confused face as a paper telephone emerges from the paper bubbles of the bath at the sound of ringing.

The woman’s lover is represented by a hardened pair of empty jeans, with which she dances, sings, cuddles and caresses. Her obvious delusion and desperation for something which simply does not exist instils the action with a sadness and melancholy, and the physical storytelling is clear without the use of words. The simultaneous creation of sound alongside action in such a way is entertaining at first, but becomes confusing as not all noise is created by him: his purpose and presence becoming perhaps more stylish device than theatrical necessity.

However, I can’t ignore the wonderful moment when the two humans on stage finally acknowledge each other and begin to interact, even if it is just to correct each others work and carry on…

I can’t argue that Torn is lovely to look at and sensually stimulating, using sound and smell to enhance the story, but I feel it is somewhat lacking in any depth of emotion or meaning. It certainly creates a feast for the eyes, ears and nose, but leaves the real human heart and head longing for more….