Theatre Review: Horny Handed Tons Of Soil

Image Source: Unity Theatre

Written By: Scott Gunnion

Format: Play
Genre: Drama
Date: July 13 2017
Location: Unity Theatre, Liverpool, England

L8, L8. It seems I hardly know thee. Not if Horny Handed Tons of Soil is anything to go by.

Ordinarily, a love story usually takes the form of boy-meets-girl, man-meets-woman, or open-minded individual meets gender neutral individual. Not on this occasion. This performance was a love story between geography and biology. Between reason and nostalgia, or a parable on how one struggles to marry the two.

Here, poetry and documentary unite to create a richly nostalgic tapestry and an ode to times long gone by. The writer is clearly and overwhelmingly punch drunk love with his chosen subject, though he never really explains why and just expects the audience to accept it and agree without question.

But nostalgia can be toxic when left unchecked.

The performance was effectively a one-woman show. The only other character was an umbrella that somehow found itself injected into each and every segment.

Bursts of poetry were punctuated by videos conveying the rampant dilapidation of modern L8. The participants were a right morbid orchestra. Whilst irrefutably tragic, very real and deeply ingrained feelings of helplessness were showcased. The finished project, in all its melancholy molasses, amounted to a damning verdict on the perils of neglect and critical condemnation of the failures in the leadership of successive councils, each as complicit as the one before. This was corporate manslaughter.

It was abundantly clear that these much-lauded coordinates had left behind the days of glory and fallen victim to ignorance and indifference. The participants exhibited only passive despair. One participant suggested L8 could become a ‘world class tourist destination’, betraying delusions of grandeur and a naked sense of entitlement that was hard to justify.

The music, provided by a three-man army, was well-considered, and the sedating sound of trumpets successfully conveyed a sense of longing and aching. Longing for a time long passed, aching for a resurgence in relevance. But alas it all felt in vain.

So what did the audience make of it? They were decidedly divided. Some suggested that those who share a history with L8 would have come away from the performance having felt a deep emotional connection. For them, it really struck a chord. As for the rest of us ...

What was intended as a faithful portrayal of local history often bordered on sheer fiction.

The inevitable impression one is left with is disappointment that the writer never really offers up any substantative explanation of his wide-eyed infatuation with L8. A woefully narrow perspective void of explanation.

If you can sit still for 40 minutes, then it's worth a watch. Though be warned: unless you share a history with L8, you may come away feeling as though you've watched something in a foreign language, so sceptics ought to steer clear.

Overall Rating: 6.5/10 - Okay