Writer and Director: Benedetta Scuto
There’s no rule at all that says a piece of theatre needs to follow a certain format, or treat the audience a certain way. In truth, there’s almost limitless flexibility over what is put on a stage – though most productions are bound by convention and knowledge of what has worked before. So it’s not quite that writer and director Benedetta Scuto breaks rules with this piece, as they don’t exist. It’s more that it’s clear she 100% knows they don’t and wants to make a point of it.
Describing itself as a “surreal and poetic tragicomedy,” it becomes clear from the off that nothing will be straightforward. However, from a chaotic start full of interrupted thoughts and confusing interactions a form does emerge. It’s one that probes foundational aspects of relationships and personalities, adds flamenco dance and philosophy and ends on a sombre and resonant note.
Ostensibly set in a cloakroom at a hotel, where the author of a self-help book (called Slow Death of a Lotus Flower) is presenting his work, the characters fly in and out to check their coats. They meet, greet, have conversations of astounding depth and uncover truths about themselves and their partners they didn’t want to know. There’s Remy who sells dreams and their partner Cathy who questions their relationship. There’s Ann who is in the market for these vended dreams, but finds instead a frantic happiness with the Portuguese author of the book. Serving them all is Maria the hotel employee, who struggles with a boyfriend stuck in the pages of literature by Dostoyevsky.
In the tumult there are instabilities which unfortunately make this a difficult bit of work to get through. The habit of freezing some characters in a pose while others advance their story is trying and the idea of telling this story through named chapters (reflecting the book) seems to die out midway. The characters are also a challenge. Though ably and charismatically performed by Matisse Ciel Pagès, Remy (the dream seller) has the glib air of a confidence trickster, and while again played well, Ann’s helplessness begins to grate.
Amid all the confusion and kinetic action, Scuto does mould a reasonably clear message. This examination of personal situations and loves, in a dreamlike and dissociated state, has charm. But it’s tough to like. Conventions in theatre and storytelling are sometimes there for a reason. While it would be a true shame for this piece of work to lose its sparky originality and creative energy, a couple of edits and additional structure may be just what’s needed to bring out the best in it.
Runs until 25 February 2022
