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Why We’re Bringing Mercury Fur to Hull

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“The purpose of art is to throw us back into life with more passion” – FRANCIS BACON

At the time of writing we are two weeks into rehearsals for our 10th Anniversary production of Philip Ridley’s Mercury Fur, taking place in an abandoned space on Lowgate and being relocated to Hull. It has been two and a half years since we at Middle Child produced an already existing text (Amanda Whittington’s brilliant adaptation of Sillitoe’s ‘Saturday Night & Sunday Morning’), yet reimagining great plays remains an important part of our output. 

As previously discussed through various platforms, the question of ‘why now?’ and ‘why here?’ is central to every creative decision we make; we are an audience-centric company setting out to create bold work that is electrifying for its audience. I have never come across a playwright bolder than Philip Ridley, nor a play more electrifying than Mercury Fur. 

Despite being 10 years old this is a play which screams at a 2015 audience and interrogates our relationship to morality and compassion, love and war, violence and memory. It is a play which, despite often being hilarious, challenges its audience to confront brutal realities of the world and asks how far we would go to protect those that we love. We need look no further than recent events in Syria to find a modern relevance; front pages filled with tragedy, communities torn apart and families desperate to survive and find a new home. There are unfortunately many more examples across the globe for why this is a play for now.

Despite developing a cult following over the last decade, the play has a reputation of shocking and offending spectators due to the violent language and themes yet, as Philip asked in a Guardian interview in 2005: “Why is it that it is fine for the classic plays to discuss – even show – these things, but people are outraged when contemporary playwrights do it? If you go to see King Lear, you see a man having his eyes pulled out; in Medea, a woman slaughters her own children (…) But when you try to write about the world around us, people get upset. If I’d wrapped Mercury Fur up as a recently rediscovered Greek tragedy it would be seen as an interesting moral debate like Iphigenia, but because it is set on an east-London housing estate it is seen as being too dangerous to talk about. What does that say about the world we live in? What does it say about theatre today?”

It is this very question that attracted me to Mercury Fur and convinced me that it was the right choice to follow our previous production, Weekend Rockstars. I believe it is a duty of theatre companies like ours to interrogate the world around us, ask difficult questions and spark audiences into debates which will continue long into the night.  This play refuses to allow us to ignore the atrocities happening around us by relocating them to a world we recognise and forcing us to question what we would do to survive. 

“Despite being 10 years old this is a play which screams at a 2015 audience…”

With Mercury Fur – a play featuring the threat of cruelty to children and a Britain rife with hallucinogenic butterflies – we are producing our boldest work to date. The hope is that you will leave the show shocked, appalled and disgusted, yes, but more at the world this play is born from rather than the play itself. As Philip is keen to point out, nothing in the play is either gratuitous (most of the violence happens offstage) nor is it without basis (whilst writing Philip kept a scrapbook of news headlines from around the world, many of which influenced the play in some form). Mercury Fur is a direct, in-your-face examination of humanity and the world we live in, yet the play still manages to ooze love and is brims with a hope that together we can find a better path.  
Philip is undoubtedly one of Britain’s greatest modern playwrights and it has been an absolute delight working so closely with him on this 10th anniversary production of Mercury Fur. We are absolutely delighted that Philip will be joining us on the first Thursday performance of the run for a talkback and Q&A. This is a fantastic opportunity to hear about one of the most talked about British plays of the last ten years directly from the author, and is a night not to be missed! I’d book your tickets now to avoid disappointment.  

As ever, this production will be a unique theatrical event aided by it’s thrilling location, pop-up bar and full music score (written once again by the brilliant James Frewer).

If you’re still not sold I’ll try and give an idea what it’s ‘a bit like’…

It’s ‘a bit like’ This Is England, Utopia and Black Mirror. Mad Max, The Purge and Fight Club. It’s part horror movie, part Tarantino, part comedy and part love story. 

It’s an intense mix of Radiohead, Jon Hopkins, Bon Iver and Rage Against The Machine. It’s a shocking canvas by Jackson Pollock, Henry Fuseli, The Chapman Brothers and Murakami.

It’s Orwell and Steinbeck, Stephen King and Donna Tartt, Brett Easton Ellis and Suzanne Collins.

There are also more opportunities than ever before to see our work with little financial risk as we introduce our Pay What You Want Wednesday scheme and also offer half-price tickets to those coming in a group on any night. 

There have never been less excuses not to have a night out at the theatre!

Paul Smith
Artistic director

With(out) Compliments

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Complimentary tickets are the bane of my life.

Not because there’s pennies to be pinched – although I am renown for being particularly tight with the company purse strings. More that when such a request drops into my inbox, I am immediately aware of the inevitable ‘yes, absolutely!’ reply that my fingers will soon be typing out, a life all of their own.

We are a young company, an emerging (to coin a phrase – ugh) company and a company that lives in Hull. We love our city, but for the time being it remains a place difficult to ‘attend’. Attracting outsiders is hard work, and so contemplating saying ‘no’ or even ‘why’ to someone wanting to see our work for free is often out of the question.

Never is this more prevalent than at the Edinburgh Fringe, from which we have recently returned. With programmers, producers and reviewers travelling from far and wide, it is in your best interest – nay, it is your duty – to offer as many complimentary tickets as you can. And by and large, it makes financial sense to. Whether you see a boost in sales from a nice review or a conversation is sparked about possible programming, the risk of giving away a potential paying bum-on-seat is usually outweighed by the hope of something more.

But sometimes it’s not.

Within our company, we try and keep as open a book as possible. So here’s a few things to consider.

1) We, like most, lost money at the Fringe. It cost us £13,300.59 to go, and without having had the final box office report from our venue, I am expecting a return to the company of around £3,300. We have, though, hit our conservative estimate, which means that with support from Hull City of Culture 2017 and others, we won’t come home out of pocket.

2) We were allowed to give away a set number of complimentary tickets per show – either 4, 3 or 2, depending on the week. After this, the company would be charged for the amount owed according to the box office split. As such, my best guess right now is that we will owe around £300 for the comps we over-allocated.

3) Many of these comps were allocated to venues we know weren’t particularly interested in booking the show or to people we knew could afford to buy a ticket, either personally or through the organisation they were representing.

‘So quit complaining, grow some balls and say no once in a while!’ I hear you cry. And you would be absolutely right. If you don’t ask you don’t get, so who am I to blame people for asking for free stuff.

Instead, I want to try and push the word out about who Middle Child is and what we are already trying to do to make theatre as accessible as possible, both in terms of content but also price structure. I’ll use our upcoming production of Mercury Fur as an example, where we are running our own box office and have, for the first time, complete control over the ticket deals.

1) Our most expensive ticket is £12. These will be sold on the door.

2) Our most expensive ticket bought in advance costs £10 (plus 60p booking fee). These can be bought via our website, or by ringing a temporary box office number.

3) During the two week run, we will be running two nights of a new scheme: Pay-What-You-Want-Wednesdays. Audience members will need to reserve their ticket in advance, but other than that what you pay is up to you.

4) Another offer we are trialling is Five for a Fiver. Again, pretty self explanatory; Any advanced booking of five or more will see each ticket price drop from £10 to £5.

I’m happy with that. I hope we’re covering a few different bases: those who want to come and see our show at a time that suits them, they can, and for a reasonable price; there are incentives to get larger groups of people down, and there’s reason for those who haven’t come before to give it a try. We’re doing what we can to make it affordable and accessible – only time will tell if we succeed.So here’s my plea. If you are a reviewer, a venue, a programmer, we really really want you to come and see the show. We’re having a press night on Tuesday 13th October. We might put a donation pot around somewhere, so if you’d like to support the production in some way that’s great. We won’t hold you to it. If you can come that night, let me know and I’ll send you a link whereby you can reserve a place.

If you can’t come that night we still want you to come – there’s loads of others! And I don’t think the prices are too bad at all. Our capacity is 40. We really need to sell out the show for the public run in order to pay our staff. I’d love it if you could see the value in contributing to that.

And if you still believe you should be offered a complimentary ticket, that’s ok, but here’s the deal. I’m going to do my best to hold back on the yes absolutely’s, and we’re going to have an honest conversation about the why’s. If there’s value there’s cause, so let’s have a chat.

Mungo Arney
Middle Child Producer

What The Fringe?  … A Snowball into the Fire

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The last time I wrote one of these we were about to enter into the precipice of the Edinburgh Festival with our show Weekend Rockstars.  The good news is that we survived; survived the late nights, the Royal Mile and the threatened financial oblivion. We also came away with some nice reviews, tour interest, a lot of really lovely tweets and a bloody award for innovation in musical theatre! In short, I’m delighted with our August and in particular with our brilliant Weekend Rockstars cast and crew (if I took real time to say how brilliant they all were it would make this blog unreadably saccharin, so I’ll spare you that). In spite of all this I’m still stuck somewhere in the middle of a Tom Cruise-on-Oprah style celebration of the Edinburgh Fringe and a Tony Blair-on-Jeremy Corbyn kind of revulsion. Let’s see if I can explain why.

NB: This isn’t going to turn into a criticism of the financial realities of Edinburgh, nor a detailed analysis of whether the Fringe is ‘worth it’ for emerging (ugh) companies or otherwise.  Other people – much better placed than me – have already written at length on those subjects, and in any case the two things I’m certain of are that it’s 1) not a good way to make money, and 2) definitely worth it.

Instead, I want to write about how we do it, and to start that I’m interested in asking a few provocative open questions. Feel free to comment on this, tweet at us/me, send an e-mail or just have the thoughts in your own head (though that’d be a shame). I’m interested in knowing if I’m in the minority or the majority with these questions…

1) Why do we have star ratings? No-one seems to like them yet everyone seems to use them. Reviewers write blogs about not liking using and then proceed to use them in their next review. Theatre makers blog about not liking them and then tell their cast they have to spend their mornings stapling stars to flyers (sorry…!). And does it really serve audiences, or is it completely reductive? I know that in planning my festival I would often resort to scrolling through Twitter and making a mental note…’ooh only three stars, maybe I’ll give it a miss’ … ‘Five stars?! Well I’d love to see a perfect piece of theatre!’ I’m not the first and won’t be the last to make this point but, like a Conservative government, we only have them because we choose to have them surely? And is there anything us companies can do to move the debate away from ‘how many stars did you get?’

2) Who are the shows at the Edinburgh Fringe for? As I’ve bored people about previously, my main problem with most theatre is that there isn’t often much consideration of who the work is made for and why it’s made for those people in that way.  For me, Edinburgh is the apotheosis of this. From what I can work out Edinburgh is largely about showing your work to other theatre makers, to tired reviewers and to the occasional promoter or venue. I’m not necessarily criticising this but I feel there’s a side to the Fringe that I’m missing out on, or perhaps stupidly ignoring. Do ‘normal’ people go to shows at the Fringe? Do they just not stick around after shows? Are they not as dutiful at tweeting? I’m genuinely intrigued to know the answers to these questions. I know there are a few non-arts types who see stuff and it’s entirely possible that I just missed a whole mass of people choosing to indulge in the Fringe but the majority did feel like art for artists.

The question I need to answer from a Middle Child perspective is – why would a company interested in engaging new ‘non-traditional’ audiences go to the Edinburgh Fringe, other than to further the reputation amongst those who make and write about it? Or is that enough, is that okay?

3) Is reviewing a two-way conversation? Again, I’m not breaking new ground here but I’m intrigued on this question and without agenda. We had some really nice, glowing reviews and some which were the equivalent of shrugging your shoulder and seeing what is happening around the corner. Both of these responses are totally fine – as are constructive nasty reviews (which thankfully we didn’t get) – but my question is prompted by some reviews I read (mostly not ours) which were just poorly written, lacked genuine engagement with the work and in all honesty just felt like they offered neither critique nor purpose. Not all of these were badly rated either, some great reviews I read felt as though they meant less to me because of the lack of engagement with the work or the celebration of the fact that the actors seemed not to forget their lines and that the lighting cues were delivered on time. Again, I’d like to know if we are supposed to engage with these reviews as a conversation or a statement? Should we expect as much from reviewers as we expect from ourselves? Or do we become better at understanding that some reviewers are learning and honing their craft in the same way that many companies do at the Fringe and bite the bullet? My broadest question is what are the reviews for – are they to help audiences select how to spend their money, to develop and challenge companies or to enable us to rise above and sell tickets regardless of marketing budgets? My hope is a healthy mix of all three, yet I read too many reviews this year that felt as though they were working against at least one of these suggestions.

4) Are we allowed to retweet praise? Anyone who (still) follows the Middle Child twitter account will know that my personal answer to this is ‘YES’, but every time I did so I was aware of an audible tut somewhere across the border. My justification is that we’ve spent a hell of a lot of money going to the Fringe and it’s really hard to get an audience so when someone takes the time to tweet something nice it’s not only like a high five from a parent (an exciting treat that never gets old) but also extremely useful. Does this mean we are disgusting egotists? Is it sickeningly un-British to gloat and share positivity in such a public forum? I dunno…

5) At what point do we say what we think? This is definitely a broader question than the Edinburgh Fringe but an important one which I feel is highlighted by the festival. People who loved Weekend Rockstars generally stayed behind for a beer and said nice things to which I awkwardly muttered thanks. I guess people who didn’t like it or who weren’t that bothered disappeared and were lost into the night. Some probably said they liked it when really didn’t, and others possibly thought we didn’t want to hear which bits they liked and which bits they thought were unnecessary. This feels like a shame and a real gap in the kind of critical conversation which would undoubtedly improve future work. I wonder if people are often reticent to say things while knowing companies are in the middle of a run – fair enough – but can we please find a way to have conversations deeper than ‘it was brilliant’ or ‘it was shit’ without ego, schedule or politeness getting in the way? Making a bad show is a very real possibility — even probability; as is making a mediocre one, a boring one or an overambitious one, however that is often necessary in order to ensure that the next one is bloody brilliant. Let’s not stop that happening because we assume companies don’t want to have those conversations. We definitely do and I’m sure we’re not alone. (If you sure Weekend Rockstars and we didn’t chat about please drop me a line – paul@middlechildtheatre.co.uk – whatever you thought. I can take it, I promise)

Like an Edinburgh Fringe show I’ve written this blog as a provocation of thought. Where a show at the Fringe provokes us to consider what it is to be human, I hope this blog may (in a minor way) make us consider what it is to take a show to the festival, and ask whether we can get better at it.

Paul Smith
Artistic Director 

Welcome to the team, Jamie!

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Greetings! I’m Jamie, the new communications manager at Middle Child. Over the next few months I will be working with people and organisations across Hull and beyond to spread the word about our various productions.

First, though, a confession. I have little experience in theatre, aside from the occasional visit to watch a play and a childhood interest in making Lego movies. I also played a hooligan extra when ID2 was filming in Hull, so I suppose that’s some kind of dramatic credential. However, I have a thirst for storytelling and words, and I’m excited to approach this role from a fresh perspective, to see what we can do to get more people enjoying theatre in Hull.

My background is in journalism and internal communications and I continue to work with an anti-poverty charity in York, as their intranet dog’s body. Previous roles have included briefly working as a reporter in Ecuador, blogging for the Men’s Roller Derby World Cup and covering climate change protests from my mobile phone.

The potential of digital media and the arts fascinates me. I wonder, what even is theatre in a world where people, especially young people, create, perform and share their own tales with technology that fits in their back pocket? How can we engage such audiences in Hull, bearing in mind many people also still have limited or no access?

There is a real buzz around this city and an infectious can-do attitude, from Humber Street Sesh and Freedom Festival, to projects like Hull Independent Cinema, Kardomah and, of course, Middle Child. I can’t wait to be a part of it.

We Want to Know Why Theatre Has Become A Dirty Word

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Originally written as a guest blog for A Younger Theatre

My name is Paul Smith and I’m the Artistic Director of a company you’ve probably never heard of, based in Hull. We’re called Middle Child (none of us are middle children and the name comes from Fight Club) and this month, we’re taking our album play Weekend Rockstars (penned by Luke Barnes and scored by James Frewer) to the Edinburgh Fringe. Mine and Luke’s initial discussions in conceiving the project kept coming back to one mantra –  ‘lets make a play our non-theatre mates would enjoy’, or, to use Luke’s terminology ‘I want to make something where people think they might get laid afterwards’. I am immensely proud of Weekend Rockstars, yet just 18 months ago I would have been ashamed of admitting our starting point.

In the early days of Middle Child I was obsessed with creating work that other artists would fawn over, which audiences would clamour for and about which I would be engaged in deep, meaningful chats in the pub afterwards. Unsurprisingly, more often than not we failed on each of these fronts. We were trying too hard to fit the mould of what we thought a theatre company should be and what type of work a theatre company should make.

In short, the work’s main purpose was to make us seem like an intelligent, switched on bunch who had lots to say and the skills with which to say it. Again, more often than not we failed. To quote Adele, we were “chasing pavements”. I am convinced this is a symptom of being an ’emerging’ (ugh!) artist – of having to convince people you know what you’re doing way before you really have any idea. The best lesson I have learned (so far, there’ll be more no doubt!) is to simply be true to yourself as an artist –  what do you care about, what can you offer that’s unique and authentic and what really gets you excited. Then you find people who share that drive and you make it happen.

So that’s what we’re trying to do now. The main thing that changed in our approach to making theatre is that we have found what it is we really care about – the reason that we exist. For us, it is about creating theatre for the Netflix generation, about lowering the risk of attending the theatre and creating a ‘Good Night Out’ (circa 1981 – how revolutionary!) for people who would rather be at a gig, on a night out or at the football.

We are proud to embrace the fact that we have become an audience-centric company, putting who we are making work for at the forefront of our creative decisions.  We interrogate the reasons why theatre has become a dirty word for many in our city and have made it our mission to change that perception. Too often it seems that theatres are stubborn in their belief that audiences will come to their senses and flock to the auditoriums any day now. I do not buy into this fact and believe that we face an urgent and genuine struggle to cultivate a new generation of theatre-goers that will keep the form alive.

As a young(ish…) theatre maker I take heart that there are so many to be inspired by in this struggle – the ARC Stockton with their bold pricing decisions, SlungLow and the HUBNot Too TameRed LadderIncoming FestivalDerby Theatre etc – but believe it is vital that emerging (ugh!) companies and artists are encouraged to take risks, are not chastised for the mistakes they inevitably make and that development is about unleashing who you really are as an artist rather than creating an identikit model of a successful theatre company. Pretending – just for a moment – that I am in a position to give advice to other ’emerging’ (ugh!) artists it would be simple – make what excites you, make mistakes, make it better next time and know who you’re making it for.

I’m off to take our piece of work made for non-traditional theatre audiences to one of the biggest theatre festivals in the world. I’m aware of the hypocrisy of that, but where else am I going to chase stars like a crazed Super Mario? Come see it, and who knows – you might just get laid afterwards.