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The Bald Soprano

The Bald Soprano is an absurdist play by the Roumanian -French playwright Eugene Ionesco. Written in 1948, in French, it has been in constant production around the world, and holds the record as the play with the longest continuous run in the same theatre: it has been permanently showing at the Theatre de la Huchette in Paris since 1957. It is currently being staged by the Arcade Theatre in Dunedin, and I saw it last night.

Ionesco himself referred to it as an "anti play" and it does defy all the expectations of conventional theatre: plot, character development, narrative tension, all that stuff, are fairly minimal. Instead it parodies the elements of bourgeois play writing and relies for its very real holding power on a witty, surprising and sometimes outrageous script. So, all the things which you might to expect to happen in a drawing room drama are present:  two bickering couples each with their share of secrets and ambiguities; a bizarre series of coincidences; a story within a story; the introduction of an unexpected character; a seemingly marginal character (the maid) who proves to be pivotal; the revelation of a secret romance. All of these happen but in such random ways that the idea of what makes up a narrative is subverted. Further, Ionesco's script jumps and darts and scurries all over the place with such surprising wit and energy that the whole notion of language, and of the social structures made of language are brought into question.

All this sounds very high falutin' and hi-brow and avant garde, but it works. The play is engaging, eminently watchable and very funny. The cast look like they're having a whale of a time, but for the play to work they must be seen to be taking their absurd fictional world seriously. In such a short work ( a little over an hour),  and with the script so seemingly unstructured, the cast is disciplined enough and convincing enough to draw the audience in. This play, with its dramatic questioning of meaning and purpose might, in less skilled hands, have come across as nihilistic and depressing; instead it is energetic, light hearted, even joyous.

The venue is an old commercial building at 82 Bond Street. There is a small central stage with seating either side, so close that the audience almost feel like they are part of the action. There are a few props indicating a suburban drawing room, and there is essentially one scene, although the ringing of bells mark shifts of meaning or focus throughout. The bells themselves participate in the absurdity - for example the play opens with a bell ringing what? 15 times? and then one of the characters saying " There. It's 9 o'clock..." Lights are used to set moods, as is, on one occasion, the sounding of an ever increasing series of tones. The small cast, confined to their very small stage and with their unpredictable, though sometimes lengthy and complex lines, and with limited scope for movement or for making entrances and exits, used voice, facial expression and bodily mannerism as the principal tools of communication and did it superbly. Production by Kate Schrader was excellent - the  small but airy venue with it’s lovely entrance staircase,  the staging and the lighting were great. Direction by Alex Wilson was free flowing yet disciplined enough to allow the whole thing to cohere.

I loved it. If this week wasn't so full I'd go again. The short run ends on June 1, and the first two nights have seen full houses, so you'd be well advised to book online at the Arcade Theatre Company's website.

Comments

BrianR said…
I remember reading it for Stage 1 French at Otago in 1974 as "La Cantatrice Chauve" with the lines, "Et la cantatrice chauve?" "Elle a change sa coiffure." IIRC, there was also a scene in which a married couple meet and chat without recognising each other.
Kelvin Wright said…
My daughter Catherine is one half of the married couple who dont recognize each other.

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