Short fall
André Delicata, who attended the Lust and Order production, reaches the conclusion that contemporary theatre is very hard to pull off in quite the right way
Last Saturday's production of Lust and Order, held at MITP was very poorly attended. It is meant to be the second episode in a cycle of 12 plays with the aim of founding a "Veritable European Theatre" with Malta as its centre. However, I am beginning to doubt whether this endeavour will ever really take root due to the pitiful audience numbers. True, August 24 happened to be the same day as the mega Morandi-Baglioni-Cocciante concert at the Valletta Waterfront, but the fact that there were very few people who actually bothered to attend proves a couple of things which I have long suspected about Maltese audiences. For starters, straight plays are more difficult to attract an audience outside of the usual crowd of theatre goers, let alone a piece of alternative theatre which is very far removed from Tom, Dick and Harry's preferred staple of farcical comedy and secondly, not many are prepared to attend performances which are thought-provoking rather than entertaining.
Admittedly, I myself would have gladly forgone the hot, black, stuffy hall, which is MITP's main performance space for a cooler environment, and indeed the original plan was to have the performance in the courtyard al fresco, but technical difficulties prevented this from happening. The idea behind this project was for "contemporary theatre companies from all over Europe (to) contribute to a regular common programme", as their own website states. French theatre company Préface cooperated in the production of this latest episode and was represented on stage by actress and choreographer Marion Sancellier, whose part as the sinuous femme fatale together with the well-paced choreography gave the performance an interesting slant. I found her monologue in her native language to be rather beyond my schoolboy French, primarily because it was so fast paced that I could barely grasp its basic meaning.
The performance began with very appropriately composed music by Nélida Béjar and a scene which can be most accurately described as a tableau with a black-clad Andrea Zammit as The Poet, or main narrator, toiling hard at rolling a stone across the stage while the rest of the cast appeared on stage each in their own particular way. Apart from Ms Zammit, the entire cast wore white and were slathered with white body paint, including the actor of African origin, Abdul Rahman Awal, who played The Father in a silent but stately and dignified manner. This idea gave me the impression of painted sepulchres and obscure intent, as everything was covered and painted over, which contrasted very strongly and effectively with the no frills, stripped bare ideals of alternative theatre. The performance was supposed to be followed by a discussion on inter-religious and intercultural relations, which included Prof. Peter Serracino Inglott and director Björn Potulski on the panel. But, due to the small number of people involved, it became more of an informal, round-circle chat which lasted little more than 20 minutes. During the discussion the act of rolling the stone was likened to the notion of a laborious task as well as to the idea of the rolling of a foundation stone.
Indeed the entire performance was dedicated to patriarchal scenes from the Book of Genesis, starting from Abraham; who was the originator of the bloodline of the children of Israel, being Jacob's grandfather; and going all the way down the line to Joseph. Most of these are bible stories and narratives, which are familiar to all of us and have been retold countless times over the centuries and this is the primary reason for which such a theatre project was started - to explore and expose the use of these narratives and their significance to European art and culture.
I must say however, that I'd much rather hear a rendition of Lloyd Webber's Jacob and Sons to the way in which this particular performance portrayed his story. I'm fine with experimental theatre and more than open to diverse interpretations of themes and genres but my perfectionist and finicky streak kicked in when what began as a promising performance with a second beautiful tableau of a family scene behind a muslin veil stretched on a wooden frame; presenting a portrait of a family in isolation and later showing it becoming fragmented as troubling times came over them; often fell into soporific lulls of monotonous mechanical action, creating stale tableaux with predictable breaks and climaxes.
At one point, I had no sooner begun to expect some sort of outburst to break the silent darkness of the scene that a scream rang out shrilly from behind the veil - it didn't startle me at all, and that's saying something, considering that I'm known to scare easily! The scene where the family danced a graceful waltz, which was artfully juxtaposed with the ensuing changes in their fortunes and can only be described as the epitome of European gentillesse was another which I particularly enjoyed, not so much because of its conventionality but because it looked so effortless, as opposed to other scenes which to me seemed to be too contrived, almost as if they were meant to fit the poetics of unconventional theatre just for the sake of declaiming themselves as being experimental. The relationship based on sympathy and a sense of duty between Mauro Miceli's Naïve Brother, Dorianne Bonanno's Happy Sister and Marion Zerafa's Unhappy Sister was well executed in mime and movement, as the entire cast was silent and only made their voices heard in short choral rejoinders to Ms Zammit's narration. Their diction sadly, was coloured by their native Maltese and sometimes displaced the action on stage from the intended timelessness and lack of setting to a rather local one.
The pun in the title was appropriate to the theme which was being tackled - the lack of law and lust for order and unintentionally left me with a lust for order within the dénouement of the action itself. The performance was at best uneven and at worst tiring, leaving me with the distinct impression that the rolling of the stone resembled the myth of Sisyphus and its message of futility more than it did anything else.
Unfortunately, contemporary theatre is very hard to pull off in quite the right way and very often, as is the case in point, tends to fall short of its promise because it tries too hard to fulfil it.
Admittedly, I myself would have gladly forgone the hot, black, stuffy hall, which is MITP's main performance space for a cooler environment, and indeed the original plan was to have the performance in the courtyard al fresco, but technical difficulties prevented this from happening. The idea behind this project was for "contemporary theatre companies from all over Europe (to) contribute to a regular common programme", as their own website states. French theatre company Préface cooperated in the production of this latest episode and was represented on stage by actress and choreographer Marion Sancellier, whose part as the sinuous femme fatale together with the well-paced choreography gave the performance an interesting slant. I found her monologue in her native language to be rather beyond my schoolboy French, primarily because it was so fast paced that I could barely grasp its basic meaning.
The performance began with very appropriately composed music by Nélida Béjar and a scene which can be most accurately described as a tableau with a black-clad Andrea Zammit as The Poet, or main narrator, toiling hard at rolling a stone across the stage while the rest of the cast appeared on stage each in their own particular way. Apart from Ms Zammit, the entire cast wore white and were slathered with white body paint, including the actor of African origin, Abdul Rahman Awal, who played The Father in a silent but stately and dignified manner. This idea gave me the impression of painted sepulchres and obscure intent, as everything was covered and painted over, which contrasted very strongly and effectively with the no frills, stripped bare ideals of alternative theatre. The performance was supposed to be followed by a discussion on inter-religious and intercultural relations, which included Prof. Peter Serracino Inglott and director Björn Potulski on the panel. But, due to the small number of people involved, it became more of an informal, round-circle chat which lasted little more than 20 minutes. During the discussion the act of rolling the stone was likened to the notion of a laborious task as well as to the idea of the rolling of a foundation stone.
Indeed the entire performance was dedicated to patriarchal scenes from the Book of Genesis, starting from Abraham; who was the originator of the bloodline of the children of Israel, being Jacob's grandfather; and going all the way down the line to Joseph. Most of these are bible stories and narratives, which are familiar to all of us and have been retold countless times over the centuries and this is the primary reason for which such a theatre project was started - to explore and expose the use of these narratives and their significance to European art and culture.
I must say however, that I'd much rather hear a rendition of Lloyd Webber's Jacob and Sons to the way in which this particular performance portrayed his story. I'm fine with experimental theatre and more than open to diverse interpretations of themes and genres but my perfectionist and finicky streak kicked in when what began as a promising performance with a second beautiful tableau of a family scene behind a muslin veil stretched on a wooden frame; presenting a portrait of a family in isolation and later showing it becoming fragmented as troubling times came over them; often fell into soporific lulls of monotonous mechanical action, creating stale tableaux with predictable breaks and climaxes.
At one point, I had no sooner begun to expect some sort of outburst to break the silent darkness of the scene that a scream rang out shrilly from behind the veil - it didn't startle me at all, and that's saying something, considering that I'm known to scare easily! The scene where the family danced a graceful waltz, which was artfully juxtaposed with the ensuing changes in their fortunes and can only be described as the epitome of European gentillesse was another which I particularly enjoyed, not so much because of its conventionality but because it looked so effortless, as opposed to other scenes which to me seemed to be too contrived, almost as if they were meant to fit the poetics of unconventional theatre just for the sake of declaiming themselves as being experimental. The relationship based on sympathy and a sense of duty between Mauro Miceli's Naïve Brother, Dorianne Bonanno's Happy Sister and Marion Zerafa's Unhappy Sister was well executed in mime and movement, as the entire cast was silent and only made their voices heard in short choral rejoinders to Ms Zammit's narration. Their diction sadly, was coloured by their native Maltese and sometimes displaced the action on stage from the intended timelessness and lack of setting to a rather local one.
The pun in the title was appropriate to the theme which was being tackled - the lack of law and lust for order and unintentionally left me with a lust for order within the dénouement of the action itself. The performance was at best uneven and at worst tiring, leaving me with the distinct impression that the rolling of the stone resembled the myth of Sisyphus and its message of futility more than it did anything else.
Unfortunately, contemporary theatre is very hard to pull off in quite the right way and very often, as is the case in point, tends to fall short of its promise because it tries too hard to fulfil it.