A special story with a West Country twang is coming to Bristol Old Vic this month, with award-winning playwright Bea Roberts’ adaptation of Max Porter’s spectral novel Lanny stirring something mysterious and ancient from the land.
The story centres around an old village not far from Bristol, where Lanny has recently moved with his family to join locals who have resided there for generations. But the village is also home to Dead Papa Toothwort, who has woken from his slumber in the woods and is listening to everything… As rehearsals got underway, we caught up with one of the show’s stars Amanda Lawrence to talk magical realism, our ties to the land we live on and why folk tales allow us to delve even deeper into issues at the heart of human nature and belonging…
Hi Amanda, how familiar were you with Max Porter’s Lanny before joining the production?
I wasn’t familiar with it at all, though I did know Max’s work. I’d read Grief Is the Thing with Feathers and Shy… but not Lanny. When I mentioned this production to people their faces lit up, with many saying: ‘Oh, that’s one of my favourite books.” I thought, ‘I’ve missed something here!’
I read the script during a workshop exploring the ideas for Bea Roberts, the playwright, and for Nancy Medina [Bristol Old Vic’s Artistic Director and Director of Lanny]. The workshop was thrilling because we were singing folk songs and learning folk rounds, which I love – whether its world folk or British folk – it’s something I’ve been drawn to from a very young age.
I’ve lived in Bristol for nearly six years now and I’m from Devon, so it felt really lovely being in the Southwest, singing these songs, and then reading the story, which has a lot of folklore in it.
The words that Nancy used in the workshop that made me really excited for the show were ‘magic realism’, exploring how we are so rich in folklore in the Southwest. Everywhere has it; everywhere you go has ancient stories.
You’re playing Peggy, among other roles. What can you tell us about her?
Peggy is from the village; her family has been there for generations and you get the feeling she is almost of the land. There are layers to her with the land and with belonging to this village, so there’s something quite symbolic there with Peggy and what she knows about the stories of the land – the myths, the legends and the folklore.
She’s connected to this and it’s important to her, and there’s a total belief in it. So that’s exciting, but also, it’s interesting how this can flip when things go wrong. Is she a bit haggy? Is she a witch? Is she weird? This is present in the book and the play, which Bea has beautifully adapted – showing how a community can treasure these stories and people, but how it can flip when things get difficult, and that is reflected in Peggy.
What do you think makes folklore and folk-horror such effective ways of exploring very real things – belonging, community, childhood and our relationship with the places we live?
I think we can go to some difficult, darker (and also beautiful and enchanting) places within ourselves and within the community, and we can ask some difficult questions that maybe, if you do that in a more domestic way, can feel a bit too much on the nose, or it’s difficult to express sometimes in a more domestic, pedestrian way. Though realistic drama is fantastic, there’s something that happens when you put in the magic realism.
I think we can lose touch with ourselves a bit with being very divisive. Sometimes it’s either this or it’s that. It’s A or it’s B. And there’s many more layers which I think you can explore with folktales, magical realism and the language of theatre. You can go into some very dreamlike states, even just by using a song that can shift people into a different way of looking at a situation, yourself, your community… and of what might be missing.
The story is rooted in the West Country, and both Bea Roberts and Bristol Old Vic have strong connections to the region. Does that sense of place feel particularly important to the production?
Yes, it’s a meeting of peoples. Bea said something the other day that I found very moving. We’ve changed one of the characters who was possibly from London to make him from Cornwall, and somebody in the room said, “Why have you done that?” And she said, “I want a Southwest hero.”
I think that’s a wonderful thing. We need these local stories, and it makes things more accessible to explore maybe difficult or exciting issues, and to find magic in your own life that’s very close to home. There’s warmth and a bigger hug there.
Do you have any personal relationship with, folk folklore, superstition or mysticism?
I’ve always been drawn to it from a very young age with the music. When I was 16, I suddenly got into the band Fairport Convention, for example. I was listening to them and other American folk music.
I think we are all capable of feeling magic and the unknown, but often, as we get older, we shut it away, shut it down or get afraid of it. And actually, that is often when very good horror or beautiful tales can open up this feeling and we can try to explore if we’re still open to it.
I moved into a new house about six months ago, and a woman opposite me came over the road and said, “This road is wonderful. Apparently, it’s built on ley lines.”
And I thought, ‘Really? And I can’t feel that’. But at the same time, this is something that people want. There is more to just living in this terraced house. There’s something special going on between us. I think people need that – even if it’s crowding around Stonehenge and other standing stone circles. We want to hear the stories of our land and learn what else is here.
What do you hope audiences will take away from Lanny?
I want them come away feeling that they’ve been under some kind of spell. You know, like when you see a really good piece of art and you come out of the art gallery and you suddenly see buildings in a different way, or moths in a different way, re-looking at the world differently for a while.
I’m hoping that audiences come out and feel that there’s been an enchantment, that they’ve been on a journey, and they’ve re-looked at themselves – even for a moment – differently, and it opens up something within them.
And maybe contemplate looking at the community and how we react to stories. In Lanny, people suddenly jump to blaming particular individuals in the community. We see that a lot in real life, and of course social media. There are lots of knee-jerk reactions, and this affects younger people and communities especially. Perhaps after Lanny, they’ll slow down and pause, re-looking at what matters. Hopefully, the magic of theatre will stay with them a little longer, because it’s really great when that happens, isn’t it? You walk out feeling something has shifted within you slightly. That is good art.
Lanny is at Bristol Old Vic from 16 October until 7 November.
More info and tickets are available from bristololdvic.org
