*Ive decided to start wrinting reviews again, now in English and with no big efforts just to get hand in it again. The Fisher and his Soul, SDArt(Школа Драматического Искусства). For me the most flawless gem of Igor Yatzko’s directing. With nothing to take out and nothing to add. Definitely not by luck, as any devoted follower of Vasiliev’s theatre have been envolved in the experiments of his best disciple for many years – in the field of plastic arts of movement, of different ways of the reading of the text, of many possibilities of sound’s expressions of artists’ inner voices and outer music and, the most admirable, in the experiments in the comprehension of the nature of the Play. There’s a a belief that only going to the very extremes, we can experience all the range of spectre of possibilities. And this was definitely the way of the creative career of Yatsko, with his abrupt and absurd phrasing in “The death of the wild warrior”, the nods to Kabuki dance plastic in “Salome” and his constant trixterism in the serving the entrailings of the text’s body on the stage’s plate. Sometimes it seemed too much and too groundless. But at the end it worth many efforts as the director, digging through his previous works, found the golden mean of the performance’s art. Looking at the latest and the most successful theatre plays we can truly agree with the words of the first theatre theoretics of the Ancient Greece saying t that the theatre is the synthesis of all arts. No more limitations for stage’s reality – if the heart of the action requires the actor crawling like a worm – he’ll be crawling even in the environment of the ball happening around him, and if it’s a time of upcoming war in the soul of the heroine, she could play drums painting her Victorian dress with mud – all without any harm to the viewers’ perception, of course, taking in account the professionalism and talent of the director who’s only job is to be the perfect vehicle of the Play to the stage(actors) and through them to the audience. And in “the fisher and his soul” the audience can truly vitness the spark of the Play coming from Igor Yatzko’s eyes. And the text itself helps him a lot. The language of Oscar Wilde is the pure theatre itself with its poetical and nearly tactile phrases and colouful, juicy epithets full of sensual beauty and longing to be pronounced and played live. And so, delicately translated, Wilde’s fairy-tale revives on the stage in its full colors – watercolors on the back and vivid carnival ahead. The play lives its life against the Japanese folding screen with the projection of Eastern and Western medieval engraving, which change is connected to the realm of the sea and the lands with its many mysterious inhabitants and other wonders. What we see at the screen reechoes the main action of the stage. To the left of the screen there’s a rostrum with a actor-musician illustrating the play with many folk eastern instruments so the music is no less a protagonist as the other actors. And besides the Fisher himself there’s no role which can belong to one actor – they change their faces and voices as the sea comes to the shore in different waves and the glares change its colors on their surface in the sun. The Soul is four faced, the Witch is one as three, his love, the little Sea Maid is doubled and resembling any of the Witches. And when there comes a colorful procession of the Sultan’s escort, the troupe like a colourful fish stokes instantly changes the direction of their previous roles, and we can see the solemn tread of an elephant performed by the musician playing his brace horn and haughty dancers throwing flowers and motley-dressed slaves carrying incents and gems. Or like in the very beginning the men in the official suits, followed by the words of the play, turn to the funny and a little bit grotesque stock of merpeople pulling their jackets to the ears and performing some underwater mad and fluid dance. On the whole the play is full of glittering laughter and playfulness. It always happens when the play is in its full. Like when its full moon everyone becomes a little bit crazy, and when its full play, every actor becomes a child and plays so seriously that the attention of yourown inner child has no chance not to follow their path. And you absolutely BELIEVE the action, believe that the fairy-tale of the performance is really happening here and now. An actions flows to another action, a set-up to a set-up, a form into a form, laughing to grief. It’s hard for a mind to fix – the same hard as to try to fix the water glimpses in a picture, but surely it leaves impressionists-like colorful imprint on the memory and the will to come again to see more details of the play’s inner life. Absolutely brilliant!
Posted on: Sun, 14 Sep 2014 09:27:45 +0000
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