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Paris
Theatre Diary
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February 2006
At first glance, the Théâtre d'Odéon appears to have a rolled-up, 1970s style polkadot carpet suspended high above its stage. You might think, in a Citizen Kane inspired production of King Lear (Le Roi Lear), that this is a little mysterious. As the assemblage is gently shaken however, it becomes clear that the polka-dots are in fact holes from which snow will gently tumble. My fascination with on-stage French snow may seem strange. It is in fact an entirely new interest, inspired totally by Andre Engel's new production. Or more specifically, Engel's excruciatingly dull apology for a production. With French movie-star Michel Piccoli in the lead role, the show has generated a great deal of fanfare. Unfortunately, Piccoli's idea of character progression is to start quietly, follow with a never ending barrage of shouting when Cordelia ruins his retirement party, and then, as his sanity descends, to intersperse said shouting with crossed eyes. The polka-dotted snow machine was, unsurprisingly, infinitely more fascinating than this drivel. Otherwise the production limped along at a monotonous, academic pace, animated only by moments of utter absurdity: the tiny Julie-Marie Parmentier (as Cordelia) running on-stage with a supersized Kalashnikov; a mortally wounded Oswald removing his wig and quoting Hotspur's Henry IV death speech. Worse still were Engel's crude attempts to create atmosphere with bizarre, pseudo-ethnic drumming. Placed between the meticulously designed 1940s scenes, these musical interludes were inexplicable to say the least. And whoever designed the unbearable seating at the Odeon's temporary home also deserves a fate worse than Gloucester's. Without the reprieve of an interval, the production clocked in at nearly three cramped hours of facile rubbish. I was released onto Paris hunting for a suitable weapon.
At the Cartoucherie, however, a project of real epic achievement was coming to an end. After three years, Théâtre du Soleil waved a final goodbye to their remarkable creation Le Dernier Caravansérail. Seven hours in length, the piece is an explosive portrait of the twenty-first century's refugee crisis. With documentary-like authenticity director Ariane Mnouchkine creates the highlands of Central Asia, Chechnya, Afghanistan, Calais, the Indian Ocean, Iran, Russia, Sangat, Australia and even the White Cliffs of Dover. Refugees, kidnappers, human traffickers, prostitutes and the countless foot-soldiers of Western officialdom fill the dramatis personae. It is nothing less than an Odyssey for our times. The Sangat Refugee Camp and the Australian government's response to the Tampa incident form the cores of parts one and two respectively. Mnouchkine's aim, though, is neither to dwell on nor create conventional narrative from specific humanitarian crises. Instead countless vignettes of brutality and hardship are spun around these focal points. Inspired by true stories, the tales form a seemingly endless catalogue of horror. An Afghani woman is murdered for falling in love. A Russian veteran screams in anguish over his Chechnya and Afghanistan service medals. Women are abducted on their wedding days to be sold as sex slaves. Much as the refugees believe matters will improve upon arrival in the Western world, though, they are cruelly disappointed. At Sangat, daily skirmishes to reach the channel tunnel, and the vicious turf-warfare between rival human traffickers becomes the new reality. As one refugee laments, "we left Afghanistan to escape the war, now it has come to us". Emotionally stirring, the production is also visually astounding. As part one, Le Fleuve Cruel, opens, the stage is swamped by a flooding river - a vast blue sheet swirled in the air by members of the company. In Origines et Destins the same trick is used. This time a tiny raft is battered by mammoth waves on the Indian Ocean. Perhaps most thrillingly though, not one actor sets foot on the stage. Instead every character and piece of set is transported on top of wheeled boards. Much has been made of the symbolic nature of this device - humanity's never-ending cycle of motion, our constant search for terra firma. Its real achievement however is the speed, grace and fluidity that it gives to the mise-en-scène. The actors literally glide across the stage, pushed around by other company members. Location, created almost exclusively from caravan-like constructions, is switched in seconds. A piece of set can be slowly turned and, like a slowly panning movie shot, what lies behind is elegantly revealed. In the end though, it is the indifference of Western officialdom to such extremes of human suffering that strikes hardest. As an Australian helicopter reaches the marooned Afghani raft sinking at the beginning of Origines et Destins, rescue is the last thing on the Coast Guard's mind. Instead, their message, screamed from above to the terrified refugees is simple: "Turn around. Australia does not want you.". It is a moment of cruelty unmatched throughout the entire evening. King Lear Le Dernier Caravansérail. Please note that all three Archive indices are very long and will therefore take some time to download.
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