Hannah Nicklin is a remarkably unpretentious, simple, intelligent theatre-maker. She’s also a regular protestor - and A Conversation with My Father sets out to show that these two roles aren’t all that different.
Several years ago, Nicklin filmed the titular conversation; her father is a policeman, and the discussion opened up a dialogue about protests and protestors. Only the audio survives, so Nicklin’s performance is a re-examination of those same issues. She uses the original recording, alongside projected images and videos of protests.
It’s not ostensibly what you’d traditionally call theatre - Nicklin’s piece has all the informality of a conversation with the audience, only we don’t reply just yet. She guides us through different protests she’d been on, the equipment she takes with her, the experience of being kettled. At the same time she explains her father’s side of things: his equipment, his experiences. Yet it’s not about sides for Nicklin - it’s about finding the individual in the collective, about the way in which two humans participate in an activity from different perspectives.
Nicklin’s style is deliberately innocent, frank and open. it can catch you off-guard - nothing’s being sneaked past you here and everything is very clearly and genially explained. Yet the piece is unexpectedly moving and invigorating and its impression is a lasting one. It’s testament to Nicklin’s intentions: ‘we need stories more than lawmakers’ she says, because of the empathy inherent to her medium. A story triggers an emotion, inspires activity - activism, even.
This isn’t a piece that’s designed to make you agree with its writer: it’s not necessarily that sort of empathy that Nicklin’s after. It’s supposed to engage you on a deep emotional level and to make you understand that any collective political action starts with personal motivation. From this calm, safe environment comes a production of simple and lasting power.
