Perfect Show for Rachel runs in our Courtyard Theatre from 28 May – 6 June

“I can’t claim any type of ‘professional distance’ from this process – that’s for others to express. I won’t try to treat this show as if it is anything other than something coming straight from my chest. And I’m not sure if I am writing this as an Artistic Director or as a sister. So, let me just tell you the story of how this show came into existence, and why I think it matters.”

This show was inspired by a car journey. When I finally passed my driving test, one of the first journeys I took was with Rach. She is a purveyor of quite niche humour and has a whole comedy bit about sat navs – she thinks it’s really funny that a tiny robot tells you what to do and that people just do it, and she enjoys mimicking the voices and giving fake directions.

I asked her where she wanted to go. “Turn left,” she barked at me, cackling. We turned left. “Turn right,” she giggled. I followed. I’m 99% certain Rachel doesn’t know her lefts and rights, so we weren’t going anywhere, but we were having fun, in an abstract, Rachel-specific kind of way.

She realised I was taking her directions seriously and started leading a detailed tour of places we used to go as tiny kids: a park, an old carer’s house, our childhood home. At each place, we stopped and talked about what the place means to us – conversations we don’t usually get to have.

I had a feeling Rachel had another destination in mind; the home I had hurriedly moved out of the year before following a messy break up. We slowed down as we reached it, a place where Rach had come for movie nights and sleepovers. “I like this house,” said Rachel, pointing. “I know, me too,” I replied. Rachel’s eyebrows knitted together. She was concentrating. She turned to look me in the eye. “I like this house.” This time it feels like an accusation, or a call to arms.

As we sit in silence staring at the house, I realise I didn’t really think about anyone but myself when I moved. Rachel didn’t get looped into this massive change until after it had happened. I thought it was something that was only happening to me, but I was wrong.

During our car journey, for the first time in Rachel’s life, she’d had the tools to take front seat control and she had driven me to the absolute heart of something she needed to express. I was left with the overwhelming knowledge that Rachel is a much better, clearer and more specific storyteller than I’ll ever be.

Later, working with Lee Simpson (a Lead Artist on Perfect Show for Rachel), we started to wonder what might happen creatively if Rachel was authentically in charge. Could we make a show with Rachel? What would her role be? Was it ethical? Could it ever have an audience? These questions took time.

Once we actually embarked on the creative process, however, it didn’t take long for Rachel’s directorial persona to become apparent. She doesn’t want to be in the show, she wants the show to happen for her. And she doesn’t have time to massage any performer’s ego. Process and production both have to be ‘perfect’ for Rachel, which means ripping up almost every rule book about how to make theatre and starting from scratch.

One night could feasibly be 60 minutes of fart jokes and nothing else.
One night we might watch a video of Rachel riding a bike 17 times, and people might get very bored. Rachel’s idea of perfect art is after all very different to mine, or yours.
One night Rachel might not come.
Every night I get 5 minutes at the start of the play to tell you why it’s going to be OK, to bridge the gap between what you are expecting and what you will get, to let you know that no one has the steering wheel but Rachel, before I am usurped by my unapologetic and entirely unafraid big sister.

As an artist in the cast, performing a different show every night for a director I cannot predict is terrifying. As Artistic Director, I’m constantly learning what a radically inclusive creative process looks like, and how different that is to our industry’s norm, which is also pretty terrifying. As a sister, though? Bring it on. I can’t wait to see Rachel on her throne.