Can you hear it? - Review of Kosky's 'Tell Tale Heart'
Something beautiful seems to transpire when Barrie Kosky puts his head to a piece of theatre, whether it be some musical note that draws everything into perspective, a revelry to aesthetic simplicity that then explodes into thematic depths, or the fortuitous beauty of a moth fluttering through a light adding to an already rich atmospheric backdrop. Delightfully, his adaptation of Poe's Tell Tale Heart left my jaw politely agape and astoundingly awed at the power a single actor, a flight of seemingly floating stairs, a bit of music, a simple lighting plot and a divine core text can have.
To say I was excited when back in May I read that the Malthouse was offering up The Tell Tale Heart directed by Kosky would be an incredible understatement. Indeed, I could almost say it was the very reason I subscribed to the season. Sure, other works have been charming, well defined and interesting theatre, but every now and again you see something and think 'yep, that's certainly got it.' When I walked out of Boulevard Delirium in November '05, I remember walking into the College office at close to 11pm and saying that I had just seen a piece of theatre that had changed my life, and the way that I thought about performance in general. I'm not sure that I can claim the same for tonight's piece, but - unlike most shows I get to - I was certainly carried by this piece to another place and out of my own headspace into some magical new interpretation of Poe's classic. While I have always loved the rhythm and the language of the short story, I'm never quite sure I let myself feel or be open to feeling in tune with the plot. Well, this cracked that right open and left any uncertainty as to madness, sympathy or pain well out of question, bringing an offbeat drama which was unexpectedly paced but beautifully realised.
From the opening of the show, with a soft fade on two spots located on the red curtain - oh, how much a curtain can add to a performance, how we can forget so easily - forming a cheeky heart shape, immediately you knew something different was going to take place. Not to mention, the soft air current running through the building left the curtain pulsing and already created an atmosphere in its own right. We are plunged into blackness and out of the dark the silhouette profile of a head is picked out, floating in mid air. Silence. The light shifts. The head is fully lit, but almost seems to be pulsating. Silence. The head's eyes start to shift about in their sockets, 'nervous' before the line even gets uttered. The actor's nervous, the character's nervous, we're nervous. On snaps Peggy Lee singing 'I could have danced all night', but the stage is still still, and the lights begin to fade. Amongst the fading light a moth dances on stage and flits about the actor's head. He doesn't move. When the actor begins to talk - it's as if we have no idea where the voice has come from. For two minutes or so, we have watched stillness, silence, lights. I expected from the slow beginning of the show for the text to go wild, rampant, fast. And yet, it stayed ever so cautious, continually painting a picture, restrained and thought out. There was madness in this character, but far from the stretches of the ranting, raving, shouting lunatic articulated for us at the end of the story. No, Kosky's protagonist was gentle, naive and to a degree rational - but nervous.
With the exception of the Peggy Lee song, all other music was played and performed live, with Barrie Kosky at the piano. Breaking in at what should have seemed inopportune moments only brought in elements of conflict underneath the text - the struggle of the murder not of the old man but the eye. Although this element has been somewhat panned by critics - if I go off hearsay - I found it really touching and left me wanting more. I found both the simplicity and delicate performance of the music so haunting and so atmospheric, giving another layer to the story.
Watching an actor work a vertical plane as opposed to a horizontal one is true inspired genius. Drawing the eye down the centre of the stage gives a true sense of claustrophobia, but also allows for so much more black space leaving the body floating in the middle of - where? In the end so many symbols represented by the simplicity of this text left many readings open to the audience and therein grew the complexity.
Some divine changes were made to the text, most noteably leaving out mention of the words 'hell' and 'kill', which gave the character such depth and such remorse left unarticulated by a traditional reading of the text. And the repetition of a line 'Can you hear it?' often followed by a small click of the teeth, continually drawing the audience back into the story. Additionally, pacing could've been so much quicker - instead it was drawn out deliciously for just over an hour - although, maybe it was a little slow at times. The two bits of quicker text, which flowed freely without break for the character's thought processes, stutter and measured cleanness in the tones of his voice were a scream followed by a flowing account of the old man's death up to the point of discussion of the dismemberment. Then as the character retells the story of the discussion with the cops, drawing the description of the tour of the house in languid beautiful syllables, stretching into minor chaos as - what is usually perceived to be the most drawn out part of the story - the conversation with the officers as the heart continues to beat, much less haunting than the description of the death, murder and plan. Finally a break between his confession and his discomfort - displayed by an almost hallucinogenic shaking of the head side to side, blurring his face and distorting his features in a way people assume only CG can do - a beautiful (mainly) accapella song, which I didn't catch the title of descending into darkness and then as the lights faded back up, we saw the actors body draped down the stairs, head resting on one of the steps, leg draped over the edge of the staircase, toes pointed to the ceiling... and very quietly, very resigned 'tear up the floorboards... can you hear it?' it left shivers up my spine, and left the audience to silence before applause probably for a good 30 seconds.
There is so much I could say about this production, but to pick out elements almost seems to devalue how everything came together as a whole. Truly lovely theatre. I would encourage all to go see it, but I think perhaps from rumours, it is all sold out. Sadly. I wanted to go again!
Time to talk
I was very glad to stay and listen to Kosky talk about his work. Perhaps more than any other artist in Australian theatre today, Kosky is continually vilified for being self-serving (what artist isn't?) and up himself to the point of indulgent and slap in the face theatre. Listening to Kosky talk about his process with the text and indeed his relationship to theatre, what he thought theatre should be and what his relationship with the audience is. Without wanting to go into too much detail on this whole discussion, there was one thing picked up that perhaps he shouldn't have dirted on the RSC and their interpretations of such works like Chekov as horse shit, but on the other hand, it was justified by the way he saw theatre and what it should do - that is, that theatre is an extended lyrical, rhythmical and musical production. Music is something of the soul as he said that articulates something undefinable in words, and therefore - i assume by extention - theatre also had to touch somewhere this chord of what can only be understood as a whole - which makes sense in that he referenced Beckett, and also said he disagreed with Brecht, (theatre isn't about thinking, it's about feeling). Not to mention, such a frank open discussion about what he thinks about during the process and whatnot.
Anyways, I'm not sure that people who say Kosky's got something up his arse really know what they're talking about. He's 2 for 2 in my books.
To say I was excited when back in May I read that the Malthouse was offering up The Tell Tale Heart directed by Kosky would be an incredible understatement. Indeed, I could almost say it was the very reason I subscribed to the season. Sure, other works have been charming, well defined and interesting theatre, but every now and again you see something and think 'yep, that's certainly got it.' When I walked out of Boulevard Delirium in November '05, I remember walking into the College office at close to 11pm and saying that I had just seen a piece of theatre that had changed my life, and the way that I thought about performance in general. I'm not sure that I can claim the same for tonight's piece, but - unlike most shows I get to - I was certainly carried by this piece to another place and out of my own headspace into some magical new interpretation of Poe's classic. While I have always loved the rhythm and the language of the short story, I'm never quite sure I let myself feel or be open to feeling in tune with the plot. Well, this cracked that right open and left any uncertainty as to madness, sympathy or pain well out of question, bringing an offbeat drama which was unexpectedly paced but beautifully realised.
From the opening of the show, with a soft fade on two spots located on the red curtain - oh, how much a curtain can add to a performance, how we can forget so easily - forming a cheeky heart shape, immediately you knew something different was going to take place. Not to mention, the soft air current running through the building left the curtain pulsing and already created an atmosphere in its own right. We are plunged into blackness and out of the dark the silhouette profile of a head is picked out, floating in mid air. Silence. The light shifts. The head is fully lit, but almost seems to be pulsating. Silence. The head's eyes start to shift about in their sockets, 'nervous' before the line even gets uttered. The actor's nervous, the character's nervous, we're nervous. On snaps Peggy Lee singing 'I could have danced all night', but the stage is still still, and the lights begin to fade. Amongst the fading light a moth dances on stage and flits about the actor's head. He doesn't move. When the actor begins to talk - it's as if we have no idea where the voice has come from. For two minutes or so, we have watched stillness, silence, lights. I expected from the slow beginning of the show for the text to go wild, rampant, fast. And yet, it stayed ever so cautious, continually painting a picture, restrained and thought out. There was madness in this character, but far from the stretches of the ranting, raving, shouting lunatic articulated for us at the end of the story. No, Kosky's protagonist was gentle, naive and to a degree rational - but nervous.
With the exception of the Peggy Lee song, all other music was played and performed live, with Barrie Kosky at the piano. Breaking in at what should have seemed inopportune moments only brought in elements of conflict underneath the text - the struggle of the murder not of the old man but the eye. Although this element has been somewhat panned by critics - if I go off hearsay - I found it really touching and left me wanting more. I found both the simplicity and delicate performance of the music so haunting and so atmospheric, giving another layer to the story.
Watching an actor work a vertical plane as opposed to a horizontal one is true inspired genius. Drawing the eye down the centre of the stage gives a true sense of claustrophobia, but also allows for so much more black space leaving the body floating in the middle of - where? In the end so many symbols represented by the simplicity of this text left many readings open to the audience and therein grew the complexity.
Some divine changes were made to the text, most noteably leaving out mention of the words 'hell' and 'kill', which gave the character such depth and such remorse left unarticulated by a traditional reading of the text. And the repetition of a line 'Can you hear it?' often followed by a small click of the teeth, continually drawing the audience back into the story. Additionally, pacing could've been so much quicker - instead it was drawn out deliciously for just over an hour - although, maybe it was a little slow at times. The two bits of quicker text, which flowed freely without break for the character's thought processes, stutter and measured cleanness in the tones of his voice were a scream followed by a flowing account of the old man's death up to the point of discussion of the dismemberment. Then as the character retells the story of the discussion with the cops, drawing the description of the tour of the house in languid beautiful syllables, stretching into minor chaos as - what is usually perceived to be the most drawn out part of the story - the conversation with the officers as the heart continues to beat, much less haunting than the description of the death, murder and plan. Finally a break between his confession and his discomfort - displayed by an almost hallucinogenic shaking of the head side to side, blurring his face and distorting his features in a way people assume only CG can do - a beautiful (mainly) accapella song, which I didn't catch the title of descending into darkness and then as the lights faded back up, we saw the actors body draped down the stairs, head resting on one of the steps, leg draped over the edge of the staircase, toes pointed to the ceiling... and very quietly, very resigned 'tear up the floorboards... can you hear it?' it left shivers up my spine, and left the audience to silence before applause probably for a good 30 seconds.
There is so much I could say about this production, but to pick out elements almost seems to devalue how everything came together as a whole. Truly lovely theatre. I would encourage all to go see it, but I think perhaps from rumours, it is all sold out. Sadly. I wanted to go again!
Time to talk
I was very glad to stay and listen to Kosky talk about his work. Perhaps more than any other artist in Australian theatre today, Kosky is continually vilified for being self-serving (what artist isn't?) and up himself to the point of indulgent and slap in the face theatre. Listening to Kosky talk about his process with the text and indeed his relationship to theatre, what he thought theatre should be and what his relationship with the audience is. Without wanting to go into too much detail on this whole discussion, there was one thing picked up that perhaps he shouldn't have dirted on the RSC and their interpretations of such works like Chekov as horse shit, but on the other hand, it was justified by the way he saw theatre and what it should do - that is, that theatre is an extended lyrical, rhythmical and musical production. Music is something of the soul as he said that articulates something undefinable in words, and therefore - i assume by extention - theatre also had to touch somewhere this chord of what can only be understood as a whole - which makes sense in that he referenced Beckett, and also said he disagreed with Brecht, (theatre isn't about thinking, it's about feeling). Not to mention, such a frank open discussion about what he thinks about during the process and whatnot.
Anyways, I'm not sure that people who say Kosky's got something up his arse really know what they're talking about. He's 2 for 2 in my books.