Fighting talk ... Ellen Thomas and Don Warrington in Statement of Regret at the National. Photograph: Tristram Kenton
Midway through Kwame Kwei-Armah's Statement of Regret at the National Theatre, one character slaps another. It is a jarring moment for two reasons. Firstly because, up until that point, the play has been so overstuffed with words, with differing points of view masquerading as characters, that this sudden physical act comes as a shock. And, secondly, because it is so obviously a Stage Slap - as Susannah Clapp pointed out in her Observer review, "someone strains their sinews, lands a dainty pat on a cheek".
There's little that's so instantly capable of puncturing a carefully constructed world, of ramming home the artifice of what you're watching, than a poorly choreographed fight scene - or sometimes even a well-choreographed fight scene for that matter. It's the obviousness of the choreography that's often the problem.
As Andy Field noted on his Arcades Project blog: "Stage Fighting has become a particularly annoying and pointless theatrical sub-industry. You can take courses in Stage Fighting, you can hire Stage Fighting 'experts' to come in and teach you how to Stage Fight. You can buy books on it."
Of course you can't have actors just smacking each other for the sake of keeping the theatrical experience pure (though I'm sure there's an Edinburgh show in there somewhere). How else to approach the depiction of physical confrontation on stage? Field comments that, since stage fighting is a form of symbolic dance anyway, you may as well take that to its logical conclusion. He cites Punchdrunk (yes, them again) as an example of how this might best be done. The balletic, stylised fight sequences that thread through their production of The Masque of the Red Death are admittedly effective. Often unsettling to watch, they convey the idea of violence without simply mimicking, and are all the more startling and unnerving for that. And of course you are there beside the grappling actors. They can, and sometimes do, involve you in the moment.
But while this approach works in the context of this particular production, it clearly won't fit in everywhere. Take Roy Williams' recent disappointing adaptation of Absolute Beginners. There was a similarly stylised fight sequence in this: the Notting Hill riots were depicted via a series of slowed-down, almost graceful movements. I could see why they chose to stage it that way but, for me, the sequence failed to convey the mess and chaos of such an event, and was ultimately distancing, as distracting as that poorly timed slap.
It's a difficult one. Should we just do as the Greeks did and have all the violent bits happen offstage? Can stage fighting ever be done competently or will there always be a degree of compromise required?
