Sexy, smouldering, and sad, The Midnight Bell is Matthew Bourne’s latest work, inspired by the works and characters of English author Patrick Hamilton. Bourne tells the story of the mysterious characters of the 1930s Soho night scene, all emerging to gather at the pub seeking solace in their drink while longing for a sense of connection. The Midnight Bell is their local, a pub in the under-belly of Soho, you can sense the sticky floors and grime. In this hidden corner, under the cover of night, the characters are able to drop their masks and we get to have a look into their deepest and darkest desires.
Bourne presents beautifully and with clarity every character’s personal story. Sometimes when watching a ballet or dance you can be lost as to what is happening or question whether a certain dance is important. But with Bourne, every flick of a wrist, every caress of a face, every extension of line has its significance to the story and character. Every detail is important.
Miss Roach, the spinster who attracts the attention of a cad who thaws her coolness and steals from her purse, holds herself tightly with upright control. There is the chirpy barman, puppishly in love with a sex worker, who has a slight bounce to him and optimistically kicks his heels. There is the fresh-faced barmaid, too polite to extricate herself from an admirer. One of the more chilling stories is of a man who is strung along by a siren, whose sinuous and languid movement keep enticing him in. He has become a tormented man who is hollowed out by her scorn and his own mental illness. We watch him fantasising about possessing her, for example, burrowing his head in her outstretched leg and coiling his body around her. My favourite story however is of two men furtively finding each other and working out what love means for them in a world which sees them as criminals and immoral. We see their development through the transition from caught glances, restrained touches, and then gentle caresses. But for one man there is always something holding him back, an inability to accept this part of him. We often see him flinching back or pulling away and in one particular movement, pulls at his arms as if trying to shed his own skin.
None of this could have been achieved without the set and costume which transports you to this sexy and grim world. The designer Lez Brotherston creates this underbelly of Soho through settings which are seamlessly changed, from the pub itself, to a cinema, to different times in the day – all with minimal props and overhead lighting. What was particularly interesting and set this performance apart was the way the characters lip-synced to the popular songs of the time, the romance of their dreams and the song contrasted heavily to the grim reality of their lives.
