Theatre

The Black Diamond

Alan Hindle | Thursday 7 July, 2011 17:27

Passing security in their black suits and shades, I descended the plunging stairwell to what seemed the basement of my craziest aunt in 2011, only to wind up in the dark, cluttered Shoreditch bolthole of my richest, most eccentric French uncle in 1963. Pictures smothered the walls , bric-a-brac cluttered every flat surface, dim lighting and deeply stained furniture gave the warren of snugs a dour elegance, but also a slightly dreamlike quality. The rabbit hole was full of beautiful, savvy Parisians chatting, drinking and waiting for something to happen.
Stella Artois, following the success of last years The Night Chauffeur, have paired up with Punchdrunk Theatre to create an immersive, live-action film straight from the tradition of the Gallic noir. The attention to detail is impressive, and the performers, in deep-character-mode, flit about with ease and confidence. As a corporate promotion it evades cringing commercialism by keeping the business end in the shadowy background. The only advertisment is their beer being served.
I had great fun poking and sifting through the scenery, letting the atmosphere thicken and congeal like a fine demi-glace with lumps of mystery. A desk heaped with ephemera- letters, postcards, diaries, worn first-edition paperback books- may or may not tell a story about a jeweller with a troubled background and at least one maniac in the family. He’s probably not a very responsible jeweller, leaving the tools of his trade and several large, uncut diamonds lying out during the party.
Characters collide to gossip and drop clues loudly, but they also hobnob with us slightly less glamourous people. I plied jeweller for informative tidbits. He gave little away, but promised something big was in the offing. Would I perhaps like to visit the free bar? Bon idee! Nothing hits the spot like a fine, frosty glass of- no sooner did I have a drink in my hand than the show began and I had to abandon it to move outside for an important scene…
Then it’s over. I am left, confused, blinking in the sunshine, back in Shoreditch. Without beer. The dream vanishes, the nightmare descends. The horror of losing a freebie. When I try to go back in the security men stare me down with practiced steely glares.
“You can’t go in.”
“What do you mean? Is that the end of the show?”
“You’re not going inside.”
“I have my drink in there.”
“Nobody’s going in.”
“But is that it?” Hard stare. Very tall. “Look, I’m reviewing this, so I have to know- is that the end of the show?”
“That’s the end of the show.”
I stormed into the nearest pub to mutter over a pint of something else I had to pay for. Does that not sound like the least effective promotion ever? “Stella Artois: You Don’t Get to Drink It!”
I might have said this is the best immersive theatre production I’ve seen- but the magic carpet was yanked just as the ride began. I can’t even talk about the plot without spoiling things because only one thing actually happens. In most interactive theatre what you get out of the show is what you invest into it, but Black Diamond is so truncated and vague what you invest is what you lose. The depth of atmosphere and mood in The Black Diamond is extraordinary but it is a theatrical-style event, not a play, so get your drink early, pour it down your neck fast and be prepared for cold eyes behind cool shades. Perhaps the second (Half? Two thirds? Nine tenths?) is the play’s redeeming feature.
The Black Diamond, running until 21 July, is free, but the first half is completely booked out. Go to stellaartois.com/Black after 10 July for ticket information on the second half to be staged at various locations.

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