Clout Theatre's latest production should have been just like any other performance. The stage was set: the work had been chosen; tour venues booked; actors primed. All that was needed was for the award-winning ensemble to reunite in the rehearsal room and start making magic again.
But something vital was missing. The show's director, Mine Cerci, was 2,000 miles away, grounded in Istanbul. There was no hope she would make it for rehearsals – any of them. The show's run at the Edinburgh festival fringe was looming; the seriousness of the situation suddenly became apparent.
"We hadn't even considered what would happen if Mine couldn't come over," says Helen Goodman, Clout's producer. "Then I received a phone call from her in floods of tears. She said her visa had been refused and I broke the news to the group – it was devastating; we were all so upset."
Cerci, a Turkish national and the ensemble's director, had applied for an entertainer visitor's visa to direct the company's latest production, The Various Lives of Infinite Nullity, ahead of its run at the fringe. But it was turned down on the grounds that the company could not prove Cerci would definitely not be paid, despite submitting extensive evidence of their struggling bank balance in support.
The group considered several plan Bs. The first was to bring in a new director, but "having a new person just didn't feel right in the rehearsal room," says Goodman. The second was self-direction, with the company's three artists – George Ramsay, Jennifer Swingler and Sacha Plaige – working collectively. "That seemed to work, and the scratch we did was fruitful, but it felt like it was missing an element of what Clout is about – something exciting."
With the show coming along in decent shape despite Cerci's absence, some good news suddenly shook everything up. The company found out it had received Arts Council England funding to develop the show in four weeks of R&D (without Cerci), but the financial support only served to crank up the pressure. "It was so intense," says Goodman. "It was the first time we had secured funding and it all just crumbled."
The group was unhappy with the progress of the work in the run up to its pre-Edinburgh preview at Mimetic festival. The show was "shambolic," remembers Goodman – "absolutely awful". Facing failure, Goodman and the group got in touch with Cerci, via Skype. They begged for just a few days of her time to help rescue the performance. She agreed.
"It started off as consultations, after rehearsals," explains Goodman. "She wasn't actually in the room; it was just reflections on the practice during the day. But then we got her 'physically' in the room – and by that I mean a laptop propped up on a chair."
Digital direction
The group rigged up their own virtual version of Cerci, but without any quality speakers or mics, it was left to Goodman to sit by the laptop, ear pressed to the in-built speaker, barking out any directions Cerci relayed. It was unsophisticated, recalls Goodman. "Skype was cutting out all the time, and you also get that weird morphed voice that sometimes comes through. It was tricky because you're not entirely sure if Mine can see what's happening – that was tough."
But at least the company were able to give the piece a director for the first time. "Mine already knows the characters of the artists intimately, because they're an ensemble, and she's so sensitive to their needs," says Goodman. "But more than anything it was a relief for the group and the work because without her it was so tense and intense – she calmed everyone down and allowed them to breathe."
So effective was Cerci's 48-hour virtual intervention that the preview of Infinite Nullity won a One Stop Arts audience award for best theatre at Mimetic 2013. The group set off to Glasgow for a five-night run of another production, How a Man Crumbled, but with Infinite Nullity's run at Edinburgh's Summerhall just weeks away, the company asked Cerci to step in to develop the work further – with her stuck in Istanbul, they turned once again to Skype.
"This was an interesting time," says company member George Ramsay. "We were performing our polished old show at the Tron in the evenings and then going to friends' bedrooms and the sticky-floored basement of the art school student union during the day to virtually remake the new show." Through Cerci's influence, Clout created a host of new characters to strengthen the piece. And with the Skype set-up more efficient and sophisticated by this point, the group even started to reap some unexpected creative benefits.
"You're not always sure if the subtleties of expression can be picked up, so perhaps it forces broader brush strokes," says Ramsay. For the highly visual and physical work of Clout, that proved effective. "We were working very fast, so a lot of the subtleties had to be found later, even on stage in front of an audience. But this can be beneficial – to make something that at first is large and bold, and later find the refinement."
Creating creative distance
Virtual direction might have worked for the artists, but what about Cerci – did being beamed-in via Skype help the directorial process at all? She thinks so, to an extent. "One of the benefits is that you become more efficient in your directions. You don't have the luxury to move to show something to the actors or the internet connection might cut off, so you have to find the right word and feedback as soon as possible."
She also found that being so far removed from the group physically helped to put distance between her creative ideas and the actors' propositions. "You can easily switch from one idea to another. None of them seems precious. This flexibility provokes your imagination, your creativity, your critical potential, and you become more and more detached commentator."
But for all the unexpected results of detachment, can a digitally-rendered director really replace one in the flesh? "The physical energy and social conviviality between director and performers in real time and space can never be replaced by technology," explains Cerci. "The performance loses authenticity through a screen. You can understand but not feel; you can use your mind, but not your senses; you can not touch, nor smell, nor taste. So you become a half-participant into what happens in rehearsals, which means you become a half-director – a paralysed one."
Clout Theatre will be performing The Various Lives of Infinite Nullity at the Battersea Arts Centre from 7 to 12 October – follow the company on Twitter @CloutTheatre
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