Depicting an odyssey on stage is rather a challenge, especially when the main means of transport is water. Distance needs to be not only suggested, but also interpreted, and convention can rarely make up for the physical limitations of the stage and theatre venue. However, in the Shakespearean positive spirit, nothing is truly impossible – Philip Parr (director) and Dálnoky Réka (dramaturg)’s version of Pericles from the Csiky Gergely Hungarian State Theatre Timișoara restores, yet contemporizes a life story of trial and error, of hope and loss thereof, of struggles of the kind hearts in the world of the harsh truth.
Somewhat reminding the audience of a camp-fire story, as the spectators are seated on both sides of the (now) repositioned stage, the plot is accompanied by live music performed in a rather experimental manner and by a highly direct visual imagery, clearly setting the spatial context and delimiting its relation to the Aquatic. This allows the story to flow freely, without major textual interventions or re-organizing of the “red thread” of events, placing the story in a fluid temporality.
The odyssey-esque construction of the production is further supported by the imaginative use of the orange rubber boat placed in the center of the spectacological construction – from royal ship to a run-down lifeboat, to bed, then hiding place, eventually returning to its original use. Symbolical for the idea of travel, the countless pieces of luggage, ranging from out-of-fashion leather suitcases to backpacks and from raffia-substitute shopping bags to trollers, all actors carry their alternate personas, developing at once with the play. Brian D. Hanlon also places plywood boxes on the sides of the stage, alluding to the concept of endless travel through harbours too busy to allow their people to settle, even if just for a while, and being carriers of strong surprises, such as a young woman waking from a death-like coma. This, alongside the characters’ costumes (Hanlon), emphasizes the idea of covering distances as well as time, through travel, the clothing seeking not only inspiration, but entire visual systems from Ancient Greece and the 1920s’ to traditional Indian, respectively Chinese attire, thus clearly separating the kingdoms and eras and somewhat visually isolating Pericles from the indigenous peoples he encounters.
Acting-wise, the characters exhibit a fluidity like the one of the aquatic environments, shifting between roles through minimal costume changes, with the eponymous character also “travelling” through ages, having two actors playing him – Erdős Bálint, respectively Molnos András Csaba. The chemistry between the same-age personas itself fluctuates from playful to romantic, from tense to one marked by a strong fair-play, and just as the actors change characters, the relations between the instances develop at once with the plot. The human “machinery” of Pericles, in turn, reflects the entire mechanism of collaborations between the members of the creative team: most of the useful objects (the pulleys from the harbors, the musical instruments) are replaced by humans, the turning stage or any form of “special effects” being performed by the team on stage.
Acapella music that follows the spectator for some time after the show (by Cári Tibor) and medieval-inspired dances (choreographed by Anca Stoica) contextualize the odyssey, once more, in the paradigm of “camp-fire storytelling”, contouring the image and intimate atmosphere of a play-pretend put together as a past-time by people stranded in the middle of the ocean. Furthermore, the manner in which the space of the auditorium is used secludes the people involved in the creative exchange by enclosing the stage on three sides (two by the audience, and one by a wall), leaving very little freedom of movement for the actors, now “obliged” to walk, sit, enter, and exit through the audience or the only remaining open side of the (now) stage.
Shakespearean text that rarely sees the limelight, Pericles delights, from Timișoara, through simplicity and originality, seamless fusion of various aesthetics, and through the visual and functional reminder of the coexistence of diverse backgrounds, and acceptance of the “foreigner”. The main character, spending most of his life in utter despair, longing for his lost wife and daughter is welcomed, integrated, and aided in his growth by people who see beneath and beyond the differences, deep down to the core of the Human. This warm, moralizing story quickly fades away when the narrator calls for an end; the tempest does, eventually, bring the ship back into a safe, comforting harbor.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Teodora Medeleanu.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.