Immersive 1984 @ Hackney Town Hall

Presented in the epic and imposing surroundings of Hackney Town Hall, 1984 attempts to translate the sprawling and intense novel into a production of about an hour. Upon arrival you are provided a number badge and some instructions, then invited into the main hall space where there is a bar, and 2 performers singing country-folk inspired music. From here the production begins, first in the main area, then through additional areas of the space where some information is revealed. There are inklings of participation for the audience when there is some interaction with the performers, and being asked to stand or sit, or move spaces.

However the majority of the production is observed; it is not discovered, the audience are moved around in an orderly fashion. Moments of the story unfold, but often without context or stakes, meaning that it is hard to follow, even for those who know the book well.

The design makes exceptional use of the space, and merges video and live performance to positive effect; the design alone is not enough to create a properly immersive and engaging experience for me, however.

Tituss Burgess - Indecisive Warrior @ Phoenix Arts Club

I love an intimate venue, and there was no better place for the incredible Tituss Burgess to bring his cabaret style show. Supported by an excellent 3 piece band and guest performers, Burgess demonstrated why his vocal talent is sought after, and importantly why he is regularly cast in what many would consider against type roles.

Spanning rock, pop, jazz, musical theatre, and beyond, Tituss is captivating. A magnetic performer, it is hard to take your eyes off him. The structure of the evening provided opportunity for Tituss to engage with the audience both in performance, and without that artifice. While the singing was incredible, what really stuck with me was the informal Q&A that started the second act. Tituss’ vulnerability and honesty in answering questions from the audience was incredible, and really lasting.

I can’t wait to see what he does next - hopefully on the West End if he achieves his goal of moving here.

Medea Gosperia @ The Cockpit

Medea Gosperia is an operetta adaptation of the Greek story of Medea (you know, her…) which uses musical styles to explore what is happening to each character, their feelings and emotions. So Medea expresses through classical opera, while Jason expresses through Jazz, etc. The singers are all of exceptional quality and skill, supported by a brilliant 7 piece live band. The music at times works well to this premise, however at times the shifts in style felt arbitrary, rather than as if they were pushing the story forward. Similarly at times the clash of genre worked to brilliant dramaturgical effect, but not consistently.

Unfortunately for me, the libretto was weak, and undermined some of the interesting musical choices happening. The lack of energy in the lyrics translated to the cast feeling like things were moving too slowly at times.

Overall an interesting experiment, worth watching — but for me one that still needs a bit of development to recognise its true potential.

As You Like It (The Land Acknowledgement) by Cliff Cardinal @ Lift Festival

How do you hold an audience accountable? Cliff Cardinal’s As You Like It premiered in Toronto the day we moved to London, so I didn’t get to see it. . . but it was hard to avoid the furor it caused amongst Canadian theatregoers and critics. Some adored it; others were appalled. And in a way, that was the point. Reminding comfortable middle class audiences in Canada of the things they do and say to make themselves feel better, without actually doing anything.

So when I saw that this show was coming to London for the LIFT festival, I was excited of course, but also intrigued. In Canada, audiences are familiar with land acknowledgements as a construct, and have at least SOME knowledge of the horrific acts against indigenous people. But how would this translate to English audiences? I’ve now lived here nearly 3 years (this time around) and am reminded regularly how little Brit’s think about Canada, much less the politics of indigeneity, or indeed what the concept is at all. Furthermore, not only do they not think about Canada, but they are wildly underinformed (in the main) about their country’s role in “creating” the country, stealing the land, and the ensuing 200+ years of history.

Cardinal is an engaging performer, disarming the audience and making them feel comfortable, creating truly funny moments early on. He made some really clever adaptations to the script, providing some context to the UK audience that were necessary for the script to work, and for the accountability to have a hope of happening. He did a brilliant job in bringing this audience in — educating them while also adapting to their knowledge level, making it all the easier to turn the knife when the moment came. And you could feel this in the audience when the moment came (and came again. . . and again).

My only question is whether it could have gone further. . . did that audience really leave with a sense of what happened, continues to happen, and is in parallel with the much more publicised genocides? Or are they still sold the Canadian propaganda of nice people in a clean country with lots of trees? It is hard to tell.

Viola's Room - Punchdrunk

For me, there is nothing more exciting than an immersive performance that is simultaneously intimate. Many of Punchdrunk’s previous shows have functioned on a monstrous scale, however their latest offering, Viola’s Room, takes groups of no more than 6 through an audio guided journey, which magically unfolds before your eyes. The scale of the production is no smaller (in fact, i couldn’t help but wonder at the technical prowess necessary to create this event) however it feels tiny, miniscule, like you are just happening upon it.

Each audience member is given a headset, and invited to journey the exploration barefoot, creating a sensorial exploration full of touch and smell. You’re instructed to follow the lights, which is thrilling, but at times also nerve wracking as you think you see lights, or second guess the ones you do. The combination of narration, light, and space creates the most exciting suspense throughout.

My only quibble was pacing; I think it could have benefitted from even more slow moments, even the slow ones felt quick as you take in the immense detail of the space and story.

Definitely recommend seeing this!

Journey of a Refugee @ Stanley Arts

This inventive production was an absolute treat. Set in the under-construction Stanley Arts Centre in Croydon, Journey of a Refugee creates an interactive promenade performance tackling challenging issues but targeted to young audiences. The refugee crisis isn’t a light topic for adults, much less 10 year olds, yet the creative staging making use of the construction site materials and absolutely brilliant lighting design, coupled with strong choreography, and an interactive gamified experience at the end, does just that.

The production doesn’t talk down to the youth audience; rather it simplifies complex concepts through movement. The children around me were rivete throughout; the production wisely chose when to move the audience, and how to do this, creating a seamless action — this physical movement and engagement was timed perfectly to keep the kids engaged but give them space to move and stretch.

I sincerely hope this delightful production is remounted so more can see it.

The Investigator - Yukon Digital Theatre Collective

The Investigator is one part digital performance, one part choose your own adventure novel. Positioning the audience member as the leader of their own story, the experience leverages the choices and judgements of the audience in their first-person-player capacity to drive the narrative. You can choose to participate with audio, visual, or both components, however the experience is crafted to work with any of these. The use of font as a character signifier in the written elements was quite effective, although some of the fonts may have lacked readability for those with lower vision (although to be fair, there was an audio option available in this case).

There was a playful yet sinister element to the experience, culminating in questions about your choices. The many paths were cleverly devised by creator Wren Brian, and following my first outcome I was compelled to try another to see what other options and outcomes I might manage to elicit.

On the whole, this was an inventive experience well worth your time.

You can experience the production here - for free!

I, Malvolio @ Sam Wannamaker Playhouse

SO, I have seen this show once or twice, as anyone who spends time here will know. That known, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see it live performed by Tim, and in the glorious Sam Wannamaker Playhouse.

Having adapted this script to work on an audience of well behaved adults myself, I was keen to see how it would be adapted for adults in this particular space and time. All the propriety of people’s expectations for the traditional practices space (don’t get me started) piled on top of the almost rockstar status Crouch has amongst a particular subset of theatre lovers.

Cleverly, this production undermined that sense of formality and seriousness from the start. While the adults didn’t quite play along in the same way a room full of teenager would, Tim was able to pick out moments of engagement and behaviour in a manner akin to a stand up comic.

The acoustics of the space enabled a level of intimacy in Crouch’s performance as well, really performing the labour of performance, the effort of the performer to get the audience to understand.

A delightful evening full of scathing contempt for theatre. Just what we love.

Guys and Dolls @ Bridge Theatre

Sometimes you see a production, and it embodies all the things you have wanted for a play. (okay, maybe that’s just me). I have adored this musical since childhood, and have yearned to have others see how dynamic and engaging it has the capacity to be. Nicholas Hytner did it.

Staged in a dual fashion, with traditional seating in the round, but also an immersive floor option, the production quite literally creates the dynamic and bustling world of New York City. The stage is in pieces which reconfigure, moving up and down through hydraulics and what I can only imagine is the most complex stage management cue sheet known to human kind. What was truly incredible was that despite the movements, and complete awareness of the mechanics of the production, from the immersive floor space we were still able to be completely swept away in the story.

I am tempted to go again and sit in the traditional seats, to see what the moving and shifting looks like from the outside.

With all of this you’d be forgiven for thinking that it was simply technical prowess on display. Quite the opposite; every performance, and every step of choreography was pitch perfect. Brilliant re-imaginings of the classic and well loved songs, choreography which simultaneously felt of the period but wholeheartedly modern. Simply superb.

Please go to this. It is what musicals should be in 2023.

A Play For the Living in a Time of Extinction - Katie Mitchell/Headlong @ Barbican

It is simultaneously full of artifice, and absent it entirely. Katie Mitchell’s bicycle powered one-woman show (performed passionabely at The Barbican by Lydia West) is as much spoken word poem as it is lecture, as much monologue as it is news article. And that’s to its credit; while we are given a story and much to look at, it feels inherently un-play-like. Instead we are confronted with a barrage of information and literal labour - 8 cyclists ride for the duration of the 90+ minute performance to power the minimal lighting grid and projections. We are reminded of the energy and effort required to create theatre; that even those of us who consciously consumed our way to that point in the day, via public transport and reusable bags filled with bread from eco-conscious bakeries, and with coffee in reusable cups will sit in a theatre and absorb spectacle which takes resource from this planet. A play about a time of extinction, too.

The production leaned a little too heavily into a few moments of audience participation for my taste - the early pieces engaging with the audience I thought really fruitful and useful to the story, however while the moments bringing audience up on stage had payoff from a visual sense later in the production when the choir came on stage, it felt contrived and almost like a way to fill time, which is rarely good.

Overall the marriage of the text and its performance were strong; I just wonder whether there is any benefit of performing this for a room of reusable bag using Barbican goers. Will it change anything?

Hate Radio by Milo Rau @ Battersea Arts Centre

This wasn’t easy to watch. Beginning with lengthy video recorded accounts from survivors of the atrocities humans committed against one another, of the fear and confusion that they experienced during the Rwandan Genocide, the play comes to the audience visually, but also through little shortwave radios with headphones. It is close, almost claustrophobic. It feels all the more personal and somehow simultaneously more private, yet more public. As it shifts to the live action - a glass box view into the recording studio with the equivalent of today’s “shock jocks” spewing hate while they dance around the studio and enjoy pop music of the time - the radio broadcast continues to be imperative. These voices and sounds are coming directly to us. They speak over one another; the surtitles (the production is performed predominantly in French but also in Kinyarwanda) lag behind what they are actually saying, so the English viewer gets only pieces. It is no less difficult to hear and watch.

These events took place in 1994, and whilst it would be nice to think that this sort of activity was isolated to the past, we now live in a time when this happens even more frequently — and more publicly — with twitter mobs, facebook misinformation, tv stations inciting violence and uprisings across the world. Watching this production now (it first debuted in 2012) it seems to argue that with more technology humans have only become more isolating, more hateful, ready to hurt those who disagree or whom they have decided are different. If that was true in 2012, it is only more so now in 2023. Where the production may have shocked 11 years ago, it now echoes.

Kudos to the performers of this difficult work. It is purposefully slow; nothing happens. At times your mind wanders, drifts, gets bored — all intentionally crafted. These activities shift into our subconscious, and then jolt us back, reminding us that they are here, in this world and we can’t let them become background noise we ignore. They are intensely harmful. At times the production is infuriatingly slow, in the best possible way, to achieve this awareness.

Lehman Trilogy @ Gillian Lynne Theatre (West End)

A play about a failed company is probably pretty low on the list of things most dramaturges expect to be interesting and worth developing. The Lehman Trilogy is, of course, about a failed company, but more importantly it is about brothers. About a family, traditions, break from tradition. About the desire to support your family morphing over generations into the desire to have power, and then into the desire to have extreme, unbridled wealth. The desire to look right, to fit in the right crowds, to marry the right daughters of even more well connected wealthy men.

Really, Lehman Trilogy is a play about capitalism. Disparaging the idea that independence and self reliance are a good in and of themselves, because they lead ultimately to forgetting that others exist. It is unfortunate that the otherwise insightful and thoughtful script leans heavily on the Jewish background of the Lehmans — because this story is one about capitalism. About the deep seeded greed that (at least in the play’s eyes) is likely to sit in all of us, waiting for the right circumstances to seep out; a moment of opportunity, under the guise of help.

Sam Mendes’ direction is seamless. The three actors morph through time and space, through generations of characters whose traits evolve and yet remain the same thread. Moving through the rotating glass box as if on display. Es Devlin’s set design showcases the increasingly precarious nature of their world; as we reach the end, characters spend increasing amounts of time on top of things, piling things, all inside the glass box which appears suspended in the air.

The slick nature of the production almost smooths too easily over the moments of decision from the Lehmans; deciding to help plantation owners rebuild, deciding to support shady deals, and ultimately deciding to split the business and participate in the wild speculative real estate market of the 80’s, 90’s, and 2000’s which led to the 2008 crash. In this way the production made it easy to look down upon these men for having made these decisions, rather than see this gremlin of greed in each of us.

That’s perhaps a quibble, or difference in directorial choice (we all know how I like my audiences to feel uncomfortable). Certainly a formidable production and one worth seeing if you can.

Truth's a Dog Must to Kennel by Tim Crouch @ Battersea Arts Centre

What are we doing when we go to the theatre? Tim Crouch’s latest play challenges the very existence of theatre, its purported value and necessity, whether it is alive at all. Structured in his inimitable manner, taking the viewpoint of an actor inside a production who is experiencing the aftermaths of that production while addressing the audience, the “performance” in this case - which we never see, of course - is of a “modern dress production” of King Lear. A play which falls into the category of big and important and meaningful plays. A role stars are desperate to play, and which audiences regularly hand over large sums to watch.

But what are we doing when we do this? Paying to watch simulated death, surrounded by people (we assume) have similar tastes and values and lives to us. Good people and compassionate people who care and read and donate. Paying to watch simulated death. Paying to be seen in this place. Paying for the comfort of this ritual. A ritual of wealth and privilege and self congratulation. Where everyone knows how to behave and nothing bad actually happens. Where we can tut and gasp at the terrible things happening, then applaud at the reminder of how far they are away from us when the lights go down, safe in our bubbles.

But we aren’t, of course. The world of King Lear isn’t as far from us as we want it to be, nor is the real outside world. So when that real world creeps in, we’re affronted. We’re annoyed. We’re busy watching a fictional world about a terrible leader and worse father, paralleled by another terrible leader and even worse father (not our world, of course).

There are so many layers in this script, as there always are in Crouch’s work, that I’m still digesting the many resonances and connections. That said, for me in this moment the resonances above are the strongest - that big, looming question of why we are even trying to make this (possibly dead) art form in this (terribly broken) society and pretending it makes any difference. We could have stayed home and warm and watched Netflix.

Crouch’s script doesn’t just ask these big questions; it offers answers that are discomforting. Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all?

If you can make it to this production, please do. You will be challenged, but you won’t be disappointed.

Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead - Complicité at Bristol Old Vic

Complicité’s whimsical and highly theatrical approach to plays lends itself beautifully to adaptations of novels, to the creation of worlds that morph and jump in ways that most play scripts can only dream of. The company’s latest offering is no different, adapting the 2009 novel Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of the Dead. Unlike previous Complicité adaptations I have seen previously, this one was (I’m told) quite faithful to the book, and relied on a central narrator in a manner that was quite effective. The incredible Kathryn Hunter was the primary voice as Janina, a self-described lone wolf living alone in the Polish countryside, protecting the animals in the forest.

As is to be expected with Complicité, the use of sound and visual projection was integral - and in this case used to create some truly beautiful imagery. Birds flying above, fire engulfing a building, but also more simple images like a secondhand shop whose clothes were embodied later on in the play as we met an increasing number of characters. In particular, the use of a glass wall was used to great effect to create various spaces and effects, distancing the speaking characters at times, or showing the severe isolation that Janina is experiencing.

While for the most part the wizardry supported the story, there were a couple of moments which felt superfluous - a “dance break” of sorts accompanied by hard electronic music, for example. Additionally, the final image of the play (I won’t ruin it for you) did seem to undermine Janina’s power, for me. We spent 3+ hours admiring this woman as we learned more and more about her activities and how she was taking control of the increasingly unruly situation around her, only for it to be undermined making her appear helpless in the final moments of the play.

All of this said, the latest Complicité offering is well worth seeing, if only to witness the incredible physical and text performance put on by Kathryn Hunter and the supporting actors. Beyond that, however, it is an exciting and challenging story, presented in a deeply theatrical manner which frankly, we need right now after years of Netflix dramas and social distancing.

Preview: The Huns by Michael Ross Albert at Brighton Fringe

Back in the old, pre-pandemic days, there was a comedy that took the Toronto Fringe by storm. For those who have never attended or shown work at Toronto Fringe this may seem uneventful, however for those who have, you’ll know what a feat that is. The festival is sprawling, spanning a massive bustling city end to end, meaning that it can be tough to get a significant piece of the media and audience attention without significant monetary spend. But then there was The Huns.

The Huns captured the minds of critics and audiences, enjoying a sold-out run and multiple accolades. It was the show everyone was talking about when it is rare that there is such agreement on the highlight of the festival.

Michael Ross Albert’s The Huns now makes its way across the ocean, after much pandemic sourced delay, to debut at The Brighton Fringe. The dark comedy about millennial angst and modern workplaces only stands to ring more true in the post-pandemic but still-pandemic world of mixed working and pandemic anxiety it isn’t polite to talk about.

The Huns is presented as part of the Brighton Fringe Festival at The Rotunda Theatre May 21 to 29

May 21, 22 (15:00) / May 24, 25 (19:30) / May 28 (21:00) / May 29 (16:30)

To purchase tickets, visit: www.rotundatheatre.com/the-huns

Jerusalem by Jez Butterworth

This play. THIS play. On one hand, it is still incredible; poetic, layered, complex. Funny yet heartbreaking. On the other hand, however, THIS play in a post-Brexit, post-Covid, cost-of-living crisis London is. . . what is it? It is no less funny, poetic, or complex. Mark Rylance is no less captivating and utterly transformed in his performance. The set, with full trees reaching into the flies and live chickens on stage, no less magical. The production and its performances are pitch-perfect.

And yet, now - in this moment - sitting in the West End, amongst audiences who are coming to see what has been hailed as THE play of our age. Audiences who have paid posh ticket prices amidst news stories of people who have to choose between eating and paying bills. . . it hits differently. The themes are more relevant than ever; the “old” and rural England vs the city. The wealthy vs the underclasses.

My sensitivity to some of the language — which would be wildly controversial if used on a Canadian stage due to its lack of sensitivity to Indigenous issues — bristles.

And the audience’s laughter, at times, hits not like we’re enjoying this story and the comedy of this man (who is objectively funny) but almost as poverty porn. It is desperately sad. The lives of those around Rooster will shift and change; some for the better, some inevitably for the worse. His son sees him beaten, broken. The audience were audibly sobbing through the matinee. And yet — will it change anything for them? For those around them? Will it resonate and call to action, or will they go home to wherever they came from, and spend their fortunate expendable income on the next West-End star vehicle they read about in The Guardian?

I want to have hope that it will. But frankly, I’m not so sure.

Age of Rage - International Theatre Amsterdam @ Barbican

Mud, steel pipes, a metal band. Blood from the ceiling. Mud on the ground, and thrown at one another. Not deus ex machina but dead children rising from the ground. Ivo Von Hove’s Age of Rage is a marathon of familial betrayal, ancient Greek style. Starting with Agamemnon and the gods’ edict to sacrifice Iphigenia to secure victory and retrieve Helen from Troy, and ending with Orestes and Electra’s murder of their mother and her new husband, the production traces the linkage across the family tree. What normally spans multiple plays and a good 20+ years in storyline is served to us in a driving 3 hrs 45 minutes.

The production employs a metal band live on stage, accompanying the action like a musical score to great effect, and choreography which takes place on the main stage area and also on a far upstage area, obscured by a lit scrim which also serves as the door — to another room, to outside, to the afterlife. Bodies move about the stage in writhing choreography, but the production works best when it strips back the chorus dancers and is just solo actors in extended monologues, wailing at the injustice of the world.

It was at times too long. I could have done with fewer dance interludes, and occasionally a faster pace, however these quibbles are outshone by an unnerving commitment to the concept. My only other complaint is simply that given the choice of aesthetic, some performances almost felt too tidy. Clytemnestra stood out for me as a beautifully messy performance. Mud covered, sweaty, dress nearly falling off and toppling across the mud in knee high heeled boots, the absurdity of this woman and her situation were undeniable.

The impact of combining the stories, however, was a powerful one — quite simply, it reminded us that Greek Tragedy is mainly men doing stupid things which cause pain and suffering to the women and children around them, who in turn overreact, and enact stupidity on others. On and on and on.

The Chairs by Eugene Ionesco @ Almeida Theatre

In the week since I saw this beautiful production, the world has turned inside out. Last weekend the frantic resonance of The Old Man and The Old Woman echoed of Covid, of restrictions. The “protests” in Canada were still ongoing, with thousands of Canadians, supported by the American right, occupying our capital to protest perceived injustice — public health measures. The police cleared this out, and within just a handful of days, Russia invaded Ukraine, and the entire world is on edge. The parting moments of this production, things figuratively (and literally) falling apart, a pile of rubble as The Speaker gives THE IDEA, keep flashing in my mind as I watch the daily news.

This production, which playfully adjusts and adapts the script — living in it rather than seeing it as a museum piece — demands the audience think about the people we don’t see, and the pressures we put on one another. The spectacle of performance in the public sphere, in politics. Supported by truly outstanding design, the production leaned in to reminding us that it was a play from the very opening moments, and any time the audience might start to get sucked in to the “world of the play”, pulls that from under us, reminding us again — THIS is spectacle. THIS is performance. This isn’t to say it is serious. One would be doing a disservice to Ionesco to miss out on the darkly comic opportunities in the script — certainly not a risk here. It is shockingly funny, irreverent, self referential. And as such, also deeply moving and resonant.

It is surprisingly uncommon to see this sort of playful irreverence on the English stage. Try to see it if you can, before March 5.

I want for theatre.

The below is the first of two meditations on theatre, one year on from in-person theatre virtually stopping around the globe. Many people pine to bring things “back to how they were”. I think we can do better.

I want for theatre.
I want it to spark, to make me think and reflect.
I want it to engage with the current world, but indirectly. 

             to reflect and adapt to our own engagement with physical spaces and landscapes. 

I want to play.
I want plays that play.
I want live experiences that sing from the rooftop about our collective human experience. 

I want collaborative environments and non-hierarchical structures. Environments where creators and audiences are on equal footing, where people can work or watch and feel comfortable, feel they belong.
Environments that let contributors ask for what they need without fear.
Environments that give contributors what they need, rather than acquiescing to time.

I want processes that allow for participants to have lives. To have other jobs if they want, to have more than one career. To have a family when they want to. 

I want theatre that recognizes that only working in the theatre is not a privilege available to everyone. That working class kids can dream of being a part of. That respects and welcomes everyone into the creative process, not just those who fit a certain criteria or have a specific set of experiences. 

I want theatre for people who think theatre isn’t for them. I want theatre for kids who like me, grew up in a poor neighbourhood. Kids who know what it is like to come home from school and have the hydro or water shut off due to an unpaid bill. Who didn’t know anyone who was an artist. Who didn’t have a financial support lineage to pay for school or rent or support while they interned or did apprenticeships before the “real” money came. Kids who had to turn down “great opportunities” to make sure they could eat.

I want theatre that focuses on experiences; those beyond our own, those that create empathy in the creators and viewers and a desire to learn more and take action.

           Theatre that encourages performers to take risks, to try something they have not done before or that scares them, from a safe environment.
To risk.
To be risky; because the very act of performing is risky, and the idea that suggesting one group’s stories may be more risky than another’s is divisive and dangerous.

I want theatre for the community. Theatre that reflects and challenges our view of the world. Tears down our assumptions, and most importantly, our expectations. 

I want for theatre. 

Justin Otto in Tim Crouch’s I, Malvolio for impel Theatre, 2019. Photo by Kendra Jones.

Katharsis by Yvette Nolan @ Prairie Theatre Exchange (limited recording)

I viewed this via Prairie Theatre Exchange on Vimeo, during their limited free availability of the piece on demand.

Yvette Nolan has written a love letter to the theatre. It is gentle and kind, acknowledging the uncanny situation we find ourselves in — desperate for connection and stories, but unable to serve them in our preferred in-person manner. A time when theatre is more necessary than ever, and yet impossible in its old form.

The use of the enormous and empty PTE mainstage space is delightful. Tracey Nepinak guides us with comfort and reassurance, reminding us that we’ve been paused before, but will come back. She is charming and engaging (as always), and I honestly couldn’t imagine a better actor for this role.

A delightful treat of a piece in response to these pandemic times.