Confessions: a review

A gambler, a shoplifter, an immigrant – even a dead person, were among the performers in Confessions, the recent thought-provoking piece from the Theatre of the 7 Directions in the Universal Hall, Findhorn.

The performance started long before the lights went down – and it was disconcerting. In the foyer, before anyone could enter the Hall, ushers asked us to surrender our mobiles. What? Not likely, said most, but we obediently followed instructions to turn them off. Actually off, not simply in Airplane mode.
A mixture of irritated grumbles and bemused giggles as we found our seats.

Blackout.

Loud sound effects of the doors locking and a disembodied voice: no-one would be allowed to leave until we confessed.

A chorus of outrage from people in the audience. It was funny – but with the tiniest tingle of confusion at the edges. The performance had begun, and we were all part of the story.

Confessions is not so much a play as the culmination of a journey by the performers – called ‘questers’. Between November and January the 12 questers had been on an ecotheatre course with director Laura Pasetti of the Theatre of the 7 Directions. To study how to fully embody a character, they had explored the hidden parts of themselves, offering them up as monologues – and confessions.

The outraged voices in the audience morphed into our 12 questers, in turn a desperate gambler, a gleeful (not especially contrite) shoplifter of nail polish, an immigrant whose story prompted many in the audience to reflect on our responses, an influencer, even a dead person, bewildered and adrift. From ‘worldly’ suffering the confessions became more inner reflections: an angel who felt she should resign, a woman who couldn’t bear to be touched, another confronting a terminal illness, a pregnant mother.

We in the audience went on a quest with them. The show’s disruptive start left us open and involved, less able to be just passive viewers of the intimacy being revealed before us. I imagine everyone in the audience found parts of themselves on stage.

Twelve monologues, yet the pace remained too sharp and crisp for attention to wander, and every single performance was slick and considered, with genuine authenticity. Most of the questers wrote their own monologues.

As director, Laura Pasetti wove a series of delicate stories into compelling theatre that ultimately uplifted. A note in the programme reads: ‘If we learn to embrace every facet of life perhaps we will become more present to this world with kindness and gratitude. This is the artist's way to create change. We are activists of the Art.’
Theatre within a small community such as the Findhorn Ecovillage is not easy – audience and performers tend to know each other, and the questers showed courage, to stand before your friends and share so intimately, and skill to make us believe their stories to be true.

Yet who knows if these confessions are actually real? I’ll be keeping an eye on that shoplifter’s nails though.

Images: Mark Richards, Aurora Imaging