A bleak and startlingly funny piece, Playing the Victim concerns Valya, a cynical university dropout who makes easy money by taking part in police reconstructions of murder cases.It is Valya's avowed belief that the only way to avoid the unpleasant things in life is to do something else - generally something absurd. It is the follow-up to the Presnyakovs' Terrorism, which was a hit at the Court earlier this year. The play, which won good reviews on the Edinburgh Fringe, arrives at the Royal Court in London next week. So after two quick snaps he is up on his feet, proclaiming in tones that intimate that he will brook no argument: "Right, that's your lot." And he settles in front of me to attack a bowl of soup and mountain of bread and butter, with the ease of a man for whom, after 40 years as an actor and director, interviews can hold very few surprises.Toilets are an integral part of Playing the Victim. This might sound an unusually intimate set-up for an interview But the toilet in question is, in fact, in a rehearsal room. It's part of the set for Playing the Victim, a new play by the Russian duo the Presnyakov Brothers.
Wilson, 67, is directing, and is very amiably complying with the photographer's request for a quirky shot. His twinkly-eyed warmth is tempered by sharp professionalism - not a second of the lunch hour he has agreed to share with us is to be wasted. Richard Wilson - best known as the terminally grumpy misanthropist Victor Meldrew in the BBC sitcom One Foot in the Grave - is sitting on the toilet. This might provide problems for the spiritually bereft, but Surman is pushing choral music to the very limits of the cathedral walls.. Surman clearly enjoys these openings for spontaneous expression.At the very end, composer and chorus once again melted into the congregation, but this time they exited the cathedral as they sang and played, leaving John Taylor to flood out his final bass tones, a gradually fading physical presence.Although the basic oratorio form may well confound the average jazz listener, Surman succeeds in melding these contrasting disciplines, balancing pompous and gutsy, strict form and free flight. Proverbs and Songs rises out of the ancient choral tradition, but is also infused with the subtle traces of freely improvised jazz.
Then, with the penultimate "Proverbs", a lone declamation from the rear came as shock, prompting an insane babble of voices, a confusion of public debate as the singers reformed their ranks.Surman presents his work with the trappings of formality, but he likes to gently subvert the setting with these theatrical devices, relishing the cathedral space. At one point the chorus descended into the audience, breaking their massed voices down into individually distinguishable parts. The cathedral's natural acoustic once again became inseparable from the phrasing and timing, as each line hung in the air before eventually bouncing back. Later in the piece he turns to soprano saxophone, saving the bass clarinet for the climactic "Abraham, Arise!"The Salisbury Festival Chorus, dressed in a rainbow of bright shirts, were conducted by Howard Moody, who kept the Old Testament verses tight during "The Sons", "The Kings" and "Wisdom".
His lowest bass notes rumbled around the cathedral, appearing to emanate from the very walls themselves. At first, Taylor's flamboyant spills seemed to merge with Surman's baritone, continuing phrases and adding great weight down at the lowest end.Surman, a former choirboy, has the look of a cloistered monk, with his pudding-basin haircut and all-black garb, but he still manages to let the devil's music encroach on this spiritual territory, opening up extended sections to saxophone and organ improvisation. It was immediately apparent that real, in-the-flesh acoustics are far beyond what can be encapsulated on even the best-recorded compact disc.John Taylor was hidden from view for most of the duration, sending his gargantuan organ improvisations up through the gleaming steel pipes. Here it reaped the huge reverb reward as he gradually materialised, walking up the aisle toward a makeshift stage.
