Katie Driscoll reviews Gareth Clark’s immersive production shown at Chapter Arts Centre in December 2024.
Social and financial division, human exploitation and economic instability are current hot button topics, but not ones that are usually seen as sexy, or fun… or well, prime for a night of live theatre. And yet, here comes along – with more of a punk ethos and rallying cry than a po-faced sermon – Celebrations at the Funeral of Capitalism by Gareth Clark.
Sprung from the chaotic minds of Welshman Gareth Clark and German Laura Heinecke (the duo first joined forces during the Covid lockdown), the show is a dance piece, theatre show, and immersive, multimedia ensemble. It’s textual: utilising spoken word, drawing, fire, instruments, song and video. Silly, funny, playful and deadly serious, in a very German way that only the Germans know how to do (the performance is half in German, half in English).
It’s not often that you go to a theatre show and end up feeling like you’ve joined a hippie commune, but that’s how it feels to watch and take part in the “funeral”. In a playful, electric and thoughtful way, a cold wintry evening at Chapter Arts Centre is transformed into a dizzying evening of critical thinking without skimping on fun or tongue-in-cheek humour.
Sprung from the chaotic minds of Welshman Gareth Clark and German Laura Heinecke (the duo first joined forces during the Covid lockdown), the show is a dance piece, theatre show, and immersive, multimedia ensemble.
It’s structured like a funeral service, only the most fun funeral service I’ve ever attended. Like the funeral organised by your eccentric avant-garde aunt who moved to Berlin for polka dancing and to become a sculptress, “announcing the death of Capitalism, who passed away peacefully after a long illness”.
The show opens with a woman, dancing in shadow, alone, her long red hair draping after her. In her all-white ensemble she looks like a milk bottle.
Sat next to me a woman with a shaved head sketches with pastels (she is, she tells me, a part of the performance, after I commend her for feeling so inspired she had to sketch in the dark).
The dance morphs into a group punk number that sounds like a song from the 1970s band the Dead Kennedys.
“Welcome to the funeral of capitalism”, they say in unison, booklets in hand as if reading a eulogy. To reiterate: this show is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
Another dance number, balletic. Clark – the Welsh one, the only one who isn’t German – gets down low, raps a number, like he’s Mike Skinner from The Streets.
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More time, less pressure, he raps. The girl in white screams “all you need is love? And water? That’s it?” while running up and down the aisles between audience members, mocking him: she’s the petulant child in this dynamic (they’re a dysfunctional family and capitalism is only tearing them apart). She seems like a character from a different place and time, like a ghostly figure in one of Edvard Munch’s paintings, or an Ibsen play.
Suddenly, the lights are thrown on, blinding, the group leap into the audience with mics like roving reporters and ask us to read quotes from thinkers, artists and “normal people” on capitalism, everyone from Jeremy Bentham to Karl Marx to the actors’ own words.
I sense a nervous electricity within the crowd, people whisper “oh no”, the lights expose us all, blinking and startled. Audience participation being a dirty word most of the time.
Then we are handed a blank white piece of paper, as white as the redheaded girl’s pristine outfit, told to write down what we are “willing to let go of” in a new post capitalist society.
We are led outside to the beat of a pagan drum, encouraged to read out what we want to let go of, and then, throw it into the fire, a symbolic act.
People are nervous (I bravely go first).
I want to let go of THE IDEA THAT SUCCESS MEANS MAKING LOTS OF MONEY. And FAST FASHION. And PLASTICS.
Other people say things like:
MANUFACTURED GOODS
PLASTIC PACKAGING
BEING ON MY PHONE
BUYING ANYTHING NEW
The man next to me says “FAKE GRASS”.
A quiet girl across from me says “TOXIC POSITIVITY” and the Gen Z siblings across from her say “that’s a good one”.
When we gather back inside, there is more of a relaxed hum in the air, like throwing our papers into the fire has really allowed us to actually let go of something. I know I feel lighter.
We are encouraged to set up tables and chairs together, to create our own space – build a new society to break bread in. We put tablecloths on the tables, a plant, a jug of water, and are given a menu. For starters we can choose between tasty morsels like “introduce yourself to everyone at the table” or “talk to somebody next to you about the weather” or “ask the person next to you what they ate for breakfast.” It seems slightly thrilling and/or terrifying at first, depending on who you ask, but the beauty of the exercise is that everyone in attendance is game, and everyone takes it seriously, which results in satisfying flows of deep conversation flowing through the air.
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The main course really gets into the meat and gristle: “how does a world without capitalism function?”, “who benefits from the death of capitalism?”, “what can we do now to change the way we live?”
Dessert: “when does the future begin?” and “how would you like to end this evening?”
(That’s it for feeding our minds; there’s also vegan lentil curry and watermelon to feed our stomachs).
I’m joined by Ruth, a theatre designer, Lowri, an art teacher, and Ani, who looks like Sharon Tate and sounds like the girls I went to school with.
“Capitalism is human nature,” says Ani.
It’s not often that you go to a theatre show and end up feeling like you’ve joined a hippie commune, but that’s how it feels to watch and take part in the “funeral”.
“But surely it’s circumstantial. We’re driven to compete because we can’t trust that there’s enough to go round,” I say.
“We aren’t okay with boredom anymore, with just being bored,” Lowri says. “And art isn’t encouraged anymore!”
Clark stands around, eavesdropping on conversations, while Annie, the artist, makes sketches of people.
Our table is deep in thought about setting up a new society, hippie commune in nature, Swedish socialist in practice: “Plastics are now contributing to over 4,000 more cases of breast cancer in young women”, Ruth tells us.
“We’re all gonna be infertile in a decade!”
We are the embodiment of female sweetness, lightness and joy.
At the end, we are huddled together, no longer anxious to be apart and aloof, we’ve let our guard down with one another and Carla, a member of the group, a German actor and violinist, sings an improvised song based on our notes; she sounds like Sally Bowles delivering a triumphant finale.
A night of theatre can’t solve the problem of capitalism, economic division or social inequality. But in successfully and unsentimentally encouraging us to reflect on the question “how do we want to live?” in a collaboration of joy, it’s hard to not, at least, feel a smidge more hope for the future – even if Swedish socialism is a pipe dream.
Celebrations at the Funeral of Capitalism was shown at Chapter Arts Centre, 10-12th December.
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