Plotless but powerful

Theatre
The Beckett Project II;
Palazzo de Piro, Mdina

Samuel Beckett has always been noted for his ability to surprise and defamiliarise his audiences from the commonly accepted codes of drama.

... the heat complemented the heavy sense of oppression which the characters in these playlets were portraying- André Delicata

The four short plays that the Llanarth Group put up as part of the Malta Arts Festival proved to be particularly interesting since each one of the four performances led the audience to a different room of this recently restored palazzo.

Titled The Beckett Project II, the power of these performances lay in their ability to keep the audience listening intently to the strength of their language.

Having experienced the performance, it was indeed a pity for their potential power to be marred by the stifling heat, which left many members of the audience feeling faint and uncomfortable, to say the least.

I can’t imagine how badly it taxed the performers who stoically kept on going despite hot spotlights and uncomfortably warm clothes and wigs.

One could, of course, argue that the heat complemented the heavy sense of oppression that the characters in these playlets were portraying.

By first glancing at the programme, one can immediately notice that the dramatis personae are all nameless save one. I use this word deliberately here because to use the more commonly accepted “characters” or “protagonists” is futile in attempting to understand what Beckett did. They are not identities but entities. Indeed the only one who is singled out by a name is offstage and consequently disembodied.

Ohio Impromptu, Rockaby and Not I were characterised by a stream of language and are of course, not immediately easy to understand and appreciate.

I certainly wouldn’t introduce drama to an enthusiastic beginner by exposing him to these plays, where language is a stream that wipes out everything else in a torrent of eddies and swirls.

Upstairs, in what was once the old St Dorothy’s School staff room and is now a pretty, pale green, minor sala; Ohio Impromptu was staged in a valiant attempt at presenting the audience with the boundless and overwhelming sense of desperation which can sometimes overcome the human psyche.The actions said it all. Andy Crook’s Listener’s only means of communication was a series of knocks, which varied in intensity and loudness depending on what he required the Reader, played by artistic director Phillip Zarrilli to read out to him.

The text unfolds in a series of repetitions and variations on a theme that eventually lead us to realise that they fold themselves back on to each other.

Mr Crook’s morose impassivity exposed the contrast between the vanity of the intellect, which is underpinned by the action of over-reaching, and stoical failure.

His portrayal was grotesquely subdued troublingly emotionless, which in Beckett’s books is a definite compliment.

Mr Zarrilli delivered his lines in the sombre and resigned manner so appropriate for a man at the mercy of another’s knocking fist. The poise and clarity of his delivery was a pleasure to listen to.

The lighting was well planned and executed: with two spots on the solitary pair.

It was not subtle or subdued but adequately dim, glowering and oppressive and truly confirmed that mood lighting is essential in pulling a dramatic piece together.

The glowering shadows in Ohio Impromptu were diminished to a faint dim spot in Rockaby, which was constantly dying but never dead and reflected the condition of this playlet perfectly.

Rockaby was staged in the old school “Blue Hall” – now a stunning Sala Grande, where Patricia Boyette portrayed an old, decrepit woman constantly rocking in her chair, whose exteriorised voice in the form of a recording also focused on the notion of gyration and repetition, fixing the phrase “time she stopped” firmly in my mind.

What I found fascinating was that these three words could be interpreted as unpunctuated, meaning “it is time that she stopped” or punctuated as “Time, she stopped”, meaning “she stopped time” – the constant repetition was extremely effective and created just the right level of indecision between the two. The rocking also provided movement in an otherwise static scene which was complemented by the regular shimmer of sequins of her dress.

The static tableaux the onslaught of Not I, also executed by Patricia Boyette, in the cellar, which was thankfully much cooler, was an unusual piece where lighting and voice came together again in a seamless collaboration which presented the actress’ mouth as the sole interpreter of the piece.

Ms Boyette had the arduous task of soliloquising non-stop for close to 20 minutes and one could easily notice her discipline and high vocal technicality.

The pace was frenetic and troublesome – a perfect vehicle for the confusion of language. The mad ravings of a creature lost in darkness – the stage was pitch black and only her mouth was visible in spot focused solely on exposing her voice.

Act Without Words I, held in the courtyard, was possibly the most pleasant piece because the fresh air and its complete focus on silent manipulation came as a relief from the other plays’ intensive vocal barrage.

Mr Crook played a man flung from one end of the wings to centre stage and allowed to think that he had some control over his life, while in reality, a black-clad Mr Zarilli played god with the man’s surrounding environment and teased and tortured him in a subtle, silent but playful manner, merging fun with futility.

Mr Crook’s timing and facial expressions were spot-on.

The voyeuristic element so essential to Beckett’s plays was truly clinched and although the audience definitely found it hard to gasp the intricacies of the lines, a full understanding was not required, indeed it would have detracted from the overall effect desired: that of leaving an indelible, yet unclear impression of emotions seen through a glass darkly.