As I watched Bertrand Lesca in Eurohouse last night he brought to mind Hamlet’s description of Claudius as a ‘smiling, damned villain’. The art of seduction may have as its chief weapon the devious ability to offer people what they want, but a goodly dose of charm may also act as a mind-numbing drug on the unwary. After a few apparently pointless pleasantries and some bashful hand holding amongst the audience it became clear that this powerful little show was a metaphor. Now, with metaphor being the lifeblood of the (theatrical) imagination what better way to deal with the vast canvas or Euro-politics than with a little two-man show about the seeds of hegemony and loss of autonomy.
Nasi (Nasi Voutsas) is the hapless subject of Bert’s love-bombs and dangerously engaging confidence, which soon turns the friendly co-operation required by some simple acrobatics into humiliation and a stripping away (literally) of all dignity. A whiff of authoritarianism floats through the air in the simple matter of the choice over what music is played being grinningly confiscated in favour of a preselected imposition. By such incremental losses are our freedoms compromised.
The show, in form, is a celebration of the minimal, proving that the largest of subjects can be treated (with imagination) by the simplest of means and powerful themes painted with the simplest of strokes.
Bea Roberts’ show, Infinity Pool, is minimalist in a different way – she doesn’t speak. A serious limitation you might think, but contemporary theatre making is awash with innovation that constantly challenges our conception of what makes a successful show and, more importantly, examples of how to turn apparent disadvantage into strength. Using an ‘old school’ overhead projector alongside a conventional one and a PC she uses images, a little recorded dialogue and printed (projected) dialogue. The latter is revealed chronologically, line by line, as the story of Emma Barnicott and her search for romantic and sexual fulfillment unfolds before our eyes. The situation has a nod towards Madam Bovary, but with this Emma – similarly in a tired, stale marriage – seeking escape from her customer relations job in a builders’ merchant through some online flirting with, Kick, one of her customers.
Strangely, for someone who doesn’t speak and is for the most part deadpan, Ms Roberts exudes an umbilical empathy for her creation as she wrestles with her unfulfilled life and tries to release her inner goddess through a haze of Breezers. Full of wit both in content and execution, touching, but never maudlin, this is a show from someone with an instinctive grasp of the ‘dramatic’ that is helping to redefine our notions of ‘theatrical’. ★★★★☆ Graham Wyles 16th June 2017
