Austin Harrison
All the way from the UK, A Year and a Day is a solo, contemporary folk tale written and performed by Christopher Sainton-Clark and presented by Raising Cane Productions. The central premise is that narrator Nathan finds himself cursed to skip a year into the future for every day that he lives. Over the course of just two months of his life, Nathan’s wife, friends, family and enemies all liveout 65 years. It’s an enthralling conception but left me wondering why?
The play begins with Nathan explaining to us that he is about to die and introducing us to his best friend, Sam, and his wife, Elsie. He then explains the tale of how he stole a rare and valuable coin from a local Irish gangster, before he follows a light up “the heath” and wakes up a year in the future. From here we see Nathan and the important people in his life grapple with his new, bizarre existence and how the world changes rapidly around him as he walks through time in slow motion. I won’t say more to avoid spoilers, but it’s a blimmin’ interesting and thoroughly engaging premise for a show.
Sainton-Clark plays around half a dozen different characters, and flits between clear characterisations with impressive ease. He’s a truly magnetic and skillful performer, and even when scenes involve jumping between several characters, he never misses a beat keeping a consistent rhythm and pace to his performance.
Speaking of rhythm, the writing of A Year and a Day is beautiful. It is a modern verse play, completely written in rhyme. The writing is good, and Sainton-Clark’s performance deft enough that it never becomes tiresome or overbearing in the work. It serves to suck us into the sped-up timescale of Nathan’s new life, and accentuate the mystical folk elements of the show. It’s a genuinely impressive text.
The consistent tone, and ease of transitions must be credited to director Rosanna Mallinson who keeps the mechanics of the show as minimalist and efficient as possible. Shifts in time and place - which are especially important to keep track of in the magical realism of this show - are clearly marked by clear and unobtrusive lighting provided by Daisy Den Engeise. It’s a very basic rig with just 4 LEDs available in the Hannah Playhouse’s new bar venue, but Den Engeise uses them to great effect with clear colour changes right on beat allowing the action to shift while maintaining the poetic cadence of the show.
I will say that, in performance, I wouldn’t have minded a few more beats of silence or breaks in rhythm from time to time. While the pulsing nature of the show sweeps us up and is highly effective, I find myself around the halfway mark having to really focus on the words to remain present and alert to what’s happening. As we fall into the rhythm of the show, it’s easy to fall into a sort of dreamy slumber and not actually take in what’s coming at us. I don’t think this is an issue in the text, but breaking the metronomic beat once in a while reminds us to be alive to what’s in front of us.
I really enjoy A Year and a Day as an exposé of craft. There is genuine artistic brilliance on show. Because of the folklore-ish nature and adventurous conceit of the show I find myself looking for how it reflects the world around us. This is not necessary in every show, of course, but folk stories and traditional verse are so tied up in interpreting the world through stories that I’m inherently looking for a social, natural, or internal question.
There are tidbits in there. Certainly some examination of lifelong love, and independence in relationships. Perhaps a dab at how people respond to phenomena they cannot understand. The speeding up of time does give Nathan a surprisingly understanding perspective when betrayal and heartbreak emerge. In the end though, none of it leaves me with anything resonant to hold onto. That may well be more about me than the show, but I leave the theatre wanting something more from superb craftsmanship I’d just witnessed.
A Year and a Day runs until February 24th at the Hannah Playhouse. Tickets are available through the New Zealand Fringe Website.