#anumber

B2: I’m just a copy. I’m not the real one.

SALTER: You’re the only one.

B2: What do you mean only, there’s all the others, there’s

SALTER: But I didn’t know that, that wasn’t part of the deal. They were meant to make one of you not a whole number, they stole that, we’ll deal with, it’s something for lawyers. But you’re what I wanted, you’re the one.

B2 [pleading] Did you give me the same name as him?

SALTER: Does it make it worse?

I’d like to start by apologising for the continued use of the almost-pun “A Number” but in my defence... Caryl Churchill started it.

There are A Number of things one can look forward to in Polly Findlay’s production of “A Number” at The Bridge theatre and just three of them are Colin Morgan. Fangirls can delight that Colin’s stealth stage door exit skills have FINALLY been put to their stunning first use on stage. Colin plays three different characters with about six to eight costume changes in the space of an hour. He disappears and reappears completely anew and it is magnificently seamless.

When I first read the play I had A Number of concerns. Maybe I’m an old fashioned kind of gal but I prefer sentences to begin AND end. I’m greedy like that. I found the play far too difficult a read and I was somewhat apprehensive about the production. Fortunately, I see the text benefits from performance as Roger Allam and Colin Morgan breathe something reminiscent of natural into those lines. I tip my imaginary hat to them as well, remembering that stuff must be tricky, the majority of these lines don’t follow a natural structure and tripping on the lines would weaken the effect. 

I am not completely sold on this effect to be honest. It cries device to me and distances this tale from pertinence.  “She was one of those people, when they say there has been a person under a train” is a good example. WHO EVER says that? Ever? Nobody. I’m a great lover of words but apparently I don’t like them in this particular order. I never was one for the abstract. Be prepared for a little abstract.

Colin’s nasal and fumbling B2 makes a lot more sense in person than I could have ever anticipated when reading. A Number is obviously not quite my cup of tea shall we say but it is becoming an increasingly tolerable piece thanks to the efforts of this production. It’s an intriguing story. A failed father seeks a fresh start, sends his son into care but not before cloning him, as “tribute”. Written just as cloning became a legitimate thing it’s pushing at big relevant buttons but for my money it’s a paper thin approach. It’s definitely a conversation piece though, a trigger of questions, forcing you to think and figure the thing out. If you can be bothered to meet it half way and you kinda have to.

A Number is another “sins of the fathers” type narrative in which Salter, the father, cannot break the cycle of his own ineptitude and selfishness. A price his sons inevitably will have to pay. I won’t give that price away but it makes for a sad little story. Some emphasis on little. When it could have been bigger (that’s what she said). 

A Number hits a number of notes in its short duration. It’s kinda funny, it’s even kinda cute (maybe that’s just Colin), it’s kinda sad, kinda creepy, kinda cruel and ultimately super dark.

Roger Allam and Colin Morgan pull out of the bag a rather lovely and truly unforgettable chemistry as father and sons. I’m not quite used to seeing Allam as the “little man”. His appearance is entirely ordinary and as a character he’s far from powerful or noble. For a man usually possessed of scene stealing charisma, Allam fearlessly relished in the grim and pitiful. He’s squirming from the beginning to the end. Trying to contain the anger of his first son, trying to contain the disappointment of his second son and in the final act, trying to salvage some scrap of meaning or importance from one beautifully blasé last (of 19) hopes. Allam’s physicality when B1 is on stage is intriguing to watch as he screams fear and seeks distance. His tone when B2 is on stage almost convinces you of wholesomeness and genuine love. Salter is quite an understated journey but enjoy as Allam hits every single note of it in true masterclass fashion.

One could marvel for A Number of hours about how amazing the stage is for this production. The first night, when the room completely changed angle, my eyes widened like a kid in a Colin Morgan-themed Candy store! WOW. It messed with my mind so much that I was second guessing everything. What they can do nowadays is awesome. I still don’t quite get how it all works and where exactly Colin escapes to in-between but... that’s the magic of theatre for you. 

I’m also a big fan of the 90s kinda feel. The stack tables, the CD tower, the TV stand, the landline phone! It’s soooooo 90s I keep expecting to hear Hanson’s MMM Bop playing upstairs or something. I feel like I’m a teenager again, at my friends’ house and it’s all kicking off between her hot older brother and his step-dad again. Flashbacks.... 

My only criticism with the whole set change thing is the decision to blast some crazy sounds at you for their duration. It’s like watching a crappy horror movie with jump scares that don’t lead anywhere. It’s not particularly satisfying and ones patience for it tends to wear thin. Especially when everyone around you likes to gasp and yelp every time it happens. Personally, not sure why nobody just took my advice of playing Bjork’s “Army of Me” in-between the set changes. I’ve only got an entire playlist of suggestions but whatever. You know better. I suppose it might wake the odd theatre sleeper.

Can I talk about Colin Morgan now? 

I feel like A Number is a bit of a showcase of everything Colin can do (and do better than anyone else). He’s got the skills for comedy, for brutality, for tears and not to mention his signature LIMITLESS energy. As his self-elected number one fangirl I will quite happily sit there and bask in the pride as he totally nails this whole thing.

Colin’s three characters are all quite different. One might easier refer to them as Benjamin, Leo and... well... Michael. B2 is adorable in his almost whiney tone and sounds possibly too much like Yasmin in “Worldship Humility” accent (for my liking). I keep expecting him to start calling people goat fucking somethings but so far he’s not done it. His twitchy, stiff awkwardness is reminiscent of Benjamin but that’s about it.

B1 isn’t exactly Leo-like, he’s far too efficient for that, he just STRANGELY ENOUGH looks A LOT like him. The hoodie and denim don’t help. He’s got that similar breaking point type edge to him. B1 sounds as serious as he is and for the first time ever, Colin is somewhat unsettling, I don’t blame Roger for keeping his distance. He’s a tad nasty and Colin goes there. Customarily though Colin helps us to “see it human” with a tear or two. As poor B1 just sits there stewing in his own anger, hatred and confusion, lost to a father and lost to himself. It’s a sad tale and Colin sure won’t let you miss the point.

B1 is part of my favourite exchange which involves Salter demonstrating his worst colours when he justifies his actions by claiming B1 was something to be crushed. Representative of the lacking thought and care that can go into the creation of life that is ultimately one of mankind’s most devastating flaws. B2 speaks of being cloned from a speck and says “you threw the rest of me away”. Colin slays me with that line. I am dead now. He killed me. Here I must afford A Number with the compliment that it is effectively unsettling and unpleasant, which is, what I think it was going for. I hope.

Can I talk about Michael now? 

He’s so adorable. Can I just point out SPOILER that Michael is Irish! Even Irish clones are better! Unlike in All My Sons, Colin catches a break and can conclude this show on a happier note, he’s a happy man attune to and accepting of similarities to the likes of apes and lettuces. He’s a purple shirt of sex wearing Maths teacher twenty years away from Netflix and Chill with his pointy eared wife (possibly called Rebecca in my head) and he’s at ease with life, fatherhood and clone-being. I love Michael. When he’s on stage “you can’t help feeling wonderful”.

Dean (Gloria) has a cheerful contender for my heart. Who saw that coming?

After that ridiculous wait we all had to endure while Colin was being all lazy and stuff we finally get some Colin vs Bad Dad on stage again!

This brief “speech” was inspired by the absolutely WRONG bloke I overheard in the Bridge Theatre the other night. He seemed to think B1 wasn’t angry enough and fortunately for him I didn’t call him up on his nonsense... unfortunately for you though... this is what I would’ve said:

ME: Excuse me asshole, I have a number of remarks to add to what you’ve just said, the first of which is that I think you’ll find Colin Morgan was perfect. Whilst we’re on that subject, I know he was perfect because he’s perfect all the time, so why would he suddenly just stop being perfect? That wouldn’t make any sense at all now would it? If you’re not already feeling pretty damn stupid can I just point out that the text itself gives NO prompts for violence or any act of physical aggression! What he was going for was the edge. The “very restrained person” who is actually anything but. Considering there is no direction for actual violence (and let’s face it, considering nothing actually happens on the stage) he gave the exact perfect amount of anger that was required. Anymore and it would have totally compromised B1′s threat level. Unless he was actually gonna hit Roger Allam (which I certainly would not endorse) he couldn’t give anymore than what he gave. Otherwise he would have just seemed stupid and a vessel of empty threats as his anger continued to escalate but go nowhere! We were meant to spend the whole scene concerned he was going to explode NOT to watch him actually explode and that’s exactly what happened. I mean, when you think about it, he was angry in an Eastenders kinda way. You know how like these mundane betrayals in ordinary settings can suddenly become mindlessly violent. He’s nailed it! Come to think of it... That’s what this whole play really is! Eastenders. The extremes without much development in-between. More to the point. Colin’s B1 was the promise of violence. The shadow of it. The actual act of it was in-between the acts and that was on purpose. Beyond his control. As written. So to summarise... Colin Morgan was perfect and you owe him an apology. Just incase somehow he gives a feck what you think.

Theatre staff member: Uhm. That guy left at “a number of remarks” and now we’d really like for you to leave.

Благодаря двум замечательным девочкам  @cibeba и @elirwen​ на свет появилась эта потрясающая работа: the transcript for A Number за которую все мы им бесконечно благодарны!  Я же в свою очередь решила внести маленький вклад и перевести её на русский язык. Прочитать перевод можно здесь: перевод транскрипта пьесы Количество

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An A-Number is a seven-, eight-, or nine-digit number assigned to non-U.S. citizens who apply for immigration benefits. It functions similarly to a Social Security Number (SSN) but is used exclusively for immigration purposes.

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Green Card (Permanent Resident Card)

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Form I-797 (Notice of Action)

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Final Thoughts

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Alien Registration Number (A-Number): What It Is & How to Locate It