Blackwatch

First off, I have to apologize. It's rare that I see a TDF performance and sit on writing about it. Usually I'm bursting to describe and gush about the show, and also immediately encourage others to go see it, too. But after attending the beyond-phenomenal performance of Gregory Burke's Blackwatch presented by the National Theatre of Scotland at St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn, an odd thing happened: I was left wordless. I was stricken by the incredible artistry and thought set forth onstage concerning not only the elite Blackwatch platoon's time in Iraq, but also the entire war and its horrific trappings. So, before I go on: Go see Blackwatch. Now. It is only open for another week.

Perhaps my procrastination was anchored by the fact that my ex-boyfriend/very old friend is now serving as a U.S. Marine in Iraq and I think about his well-being often. I wonder what he is doing, if he is alright and if he will be okay afterward. Or maybe it was that war as a concept has always seemed putrid and ridiculous to me. And likely it was also because the cast's commitment, talent and insights were so inspiring that I wanted to give this rare performance space to be fully digested.

So now that I have (digested that is), I can try to express what's so enthralling, inspiring and incredible about this piece in words other than....WOW. To begin, the history of the Blackwatch platoon is an intriguing one with roots hundreds of years old. An elite force from Scotland, this league was called on in many wars, beaten back countlessly, but also feared just as often. They were sent to Iraq as a supplement to the British Army. After much controversy, however, in 2004 the group was renamed as part of the larger British military. While this officially disconnected the group from their heritage, the "golden thread" of the Blackwatch name remained intact through pride between fathers and sons, and most importantly, between mates.

Instead of simply hearing about the stories of the collective group and individuals through straight narrative, the audience meets the soldiers in a pub back home post-mission, as well as in flashbacks in Iraq. And here is where the piece truly shines. Not only is each character fully developed--from the surly but lovable captain down to the twitchy novice--but their stories are also told in a multi-media collage in a unique setting. The audience sits on rows of bleachers along the long sides of the warehouse, creating a tunnel of a stage in the middle. The lean playing space is bookended with scaffolding used for speeches, projections and singing. Props are used in creative ways: The pub's pool table serves as a war vehicle, dancing ground and bizarre coffin. While the piece starts out referencing itself (the show was crafted based on words and experiences of the real Blackwatch soldiers on this mission in Iraq) as the reporter comes to the pub, it soon flips to time in Iraq. Surround-sound makes fly-by bombers all the more real, as the audience is thrashed from one time and place to the next. But it all works seamlessly because none of the intricate transitions are unnecessary or thoughtless. Plus, this sort of lightning snap echoes what the soldiers speak of: in Iraq, they sit and wait, and then in a moment, get pummeled with air raids and must be alert and razor-sharp.

Another spectacular facet is the show's use of both song and movement, as created by the entire cast along with the associate directors of each, Davey Anderson and Steven Hoggett, respectively. From traditional Scottish bagpipes to rollicking renditions of Scottish folk tunes, each musical bit captures the pride and fury of the young soldiers who feel they are not really doing the job they were hired to do--fighting--and instead are simply bullying. Intense marching drills with complicated, angular dance sequences are also effective. They are precise, exact and teeming with the braced tension of the young men in a land of hell.

Even more innovative are two mesmerizing movement scenes: In one, one of the group's trusted leaders, Cammy (played by the steady, wonderful Paul Rattray), walks the audiences through the lengthy history of Blackwatch as linked to the clan's uniforms. As he speaks, the cast dresses and undresses Cammy in each get-up through lifts, jumps and rolls. It's a pretty phenomenal quick-change dance.

The most touching and powerful use of choreography is during mail call, the soldiers' one real link to a life waiting at home. All together onstage, the men stand separately, each in his own private moment of longing and pain. Through quiet hand gestures and body shapes, their simple movements ache with despair, and sometimes even hope.

Both in the pub and in the Iraq scenes, the audience sees how fragile the soldiers' calm is. While they joke and play (one scene is a particularly humorous explanation of how any "piece of paper" looks official and is therefore an easy pass out of annoying duties), a tiny catalyst can cause a breakdown of morale, and even cause fighting between the men. And it is in this weakened core, beneath steel training and dirty mouths, that the audience is taken on a ride to see pain, suffering and struggle from the inside out.

Watching this piece is painful and uncomfortable at times, joyous and celebratory at others. Where other "war" pieces only focus on the fighting, Blackwatch is able to highlight this aspect, and also create moments that reveal the man inside the soldier. And, the cast and creative team, directed magnificently by John Tiffany, have found a way to do so with humility, strength, and even beauty.

A piece with creative breadth unlike I've seen before and the power to explore war in a new way, Blackwatch is theater at its very best.

Blackwatch
Rating: To Die For
St. Ann's Warehouse
718.254.8779