Monday, 8 February 2010
What a peculiar show. I have seen a more traditional version of this production directed by Gregory Jones of Whiplash Theatre a few years ago, so I suppose I probably had more of an inkling than most to the surreal storyline of this piece; but even so, what this new version by Rupert Goold and Ben Power of Headlong Theatre presented to the PIAF festival audience at UWA’s Octagon Theatre was almost like the original story on steroids – there were so many supplementary ideas and add-ins, not to mention a shift in presented media, that one could only think that the original Italian playwright, Luigi Pirandello, would have gaped and then applauded the audacity of this current incarnation.
Caroline McCormack (most famous as Mel Gibson’s village sweetheart and lost love in Braveheart) was the harried Producer, in charge of a docu-drama designed to be solemn and affecting but with the palpable undercurrent of audience manipulation.
Her team, made up of a cynical Editor (Robin Pearce), a Cameraman (Jake Harders), and two Actors (Sarah Belcher and Jamie Bower) appeared to be in the middle of recreating and discussing scenes for a documentary that purported to deal with the confronting topic of euthanasia for children struck by chronic diseases.
But that turns out to be red herring, and all that talk, talk, talk with the producer and financial backer The Exec (Martin Ledwith) goes awry when six characters in gothic black turn up, their faces powdered harlequin white, and with an irresistible force, they convince the Producer that their’s is a story worth telling and reliving, and they won’t take no for an answer.
The dysfunction integral to their sordid tale remains the same as the original, but the deviations begin to swirl soon enough; instead of a theatre rehearsal room from the original, we now have the new media of video; and florescent lighting and static screens give the unfolding tone of this story a J-horror creep that trickled throughout the audience in the Octagon auditorium.
Storylines are revealed to be bait-and-switch twists, and while the actors were impressive in their individual roles – Denise Gough as the Stepdaughter was fearless, and Ian McDiarmid (infamous as evil Emperor Palpatine from Star Wars) was concurrently more avuncular and yet just as chilling as you knew he had the power to be; but ultimately you never actually felt for any of the characters. Even the minor roles of the Girl (drowning in the aquarium – neat special effect), or the Boy (silent and small with Lennon shades and a blank face) were ciphers; “reality” and “time” were toyed with to such an extent that you barely had the compulsion to figure out where the play was taking you or who was distressed and suffering on the stage, and consequently whether you really cared.
It was an interesting, challenging piece of theatre, and no doubt a Festival talking point, but for me, a little unsatisfying - however I will admit, more humorous that I expected.
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