Review: It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

Solo noodler Daniel Kitson traces the arcs of two quiet English lives.

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  • Photograph: Pavel Antonov

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later at St. Ann's Warehouse

  • Photograph: Pavel Antonov

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later at St. Ann's Warehouse

  • Photograph: Pavel Antonov

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later at St. Ann's Warehouse

  • Photograph: Pavel Antonov

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

    It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later at St. Ann's Warehouse

Photograph: Pavel Antonov

It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later

It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later at St. Ann's Warehouse

Time Out Ratings

<strong>Rating: </strong>4/5

Hanging lightbulbs, a stepladder, a chair. A bearded fellow in suspenders. Stories that trace two people's lives—one along its forward arc, the other in reverse. And that, spectacle-hungry hordes, is it. In Daniel Kitson's humanist anthem It's Always Right Now, Until It's Later, there's nary a trapping more—no program, no final bow, not even a fourth wall to keep the storyteller from quizzing noisy audience members in his forthright Yorkshire burr. Of the many quiet delights afforded by a Kitson performance, the best is watching him veer off script ("Don't distract me! I haven't got the skills!"), and then hearing his high little giggle as he recovers his bearings. There are other things as wry and cozy—Nick Park's Wallace and Gromit movies leap to mind—but few of them also touch on the philosophical nature of experience.

Time's wash has caught Caroline Carpenter's and William Rivington's lives and thrown them up into the air, where individual moments have lodged as points of light—or, mundanely speaking, lightbulbs. Among these suspended pinpricks, Kitson moves and explains. His detailed, funny biographies (we learn a lot about how Caroline feels about beans) are exquisite imaginative work, but they also cocoon themselves 'round something serious and didactic. Kitson's chiasmatic (X-shaped) structure (Rivington's story starts at death, Carpenter's just before life) helps us actually understand Kierkegaard's admonition that life is lived forward but understood backward. We see how regrets are built; we observe how forgiveness operates. It may seem like a lovely, warm, laugh-filled evening in the theater. But it's a sermon in disguise.

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St. Ann's Warehouse. Written and performed by Daniel Kitson. 1hr 30mins. No intermission. See complete event information. See complete event information.

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