James Thiérrée performing Raoul
at the Barbican, London
James Thiérrée's audience at Brooklyn's
BAM Harvey Theater gathers before a stage that resembles an old sailing ship run aground, once proud sails collapsed upon themselves. In a sense, this first impression is true. Thiérrée's
Raoul--a solo work from the brilliant leader and star of the renowned
Compagnie du Hanneton--introduces a man who lives a shipwrecked life, castaway in a world of his own. Over the next 80 minutes, we're drawn into the fortified hut Raoul has built for himself. We become privy to its magic and its vulnerabilities.
Having first witnessed Thiérrée and his troupe in their 2005 BAM debut (
Bright Abyss)
, I count myself among his fervent New York fans
. I eagerly anticipated a work promising a focus on Thiérrée. Rest assured, for this year's
Next Wave Festival, the man has packed his show with nearly everything he knows how to do. Given his multifaceted authority--as director, actor, dancer, mime, clown, acrobat, trapeze artist, magician and musician--that's quite a lot.
With gentle, stately music, houselights start to dim. A sunset glow drifts behind one "sail" and flows across another. Soon, fabric whips away, revealing a dark, looming structure of metal pipes draped in what could be a giant, dense and very dusty cobweb. A bearded, bedraggled fellow also appears--our Raoul. Or is it?
As Thiérrée storms the structure, crying hoarsely and mounting and dangling from it with his feet treading open air, some of the heavy poles begin to give way, dropping to the ground with a frightening jolt. You cringe and want to say, "James, are you sure?"
Raoul's trouble is that there's at least one other "Raoul" lurking, invading what he once believed to be a well-constructed reality. Thiérrée's skill at misdirecting our attention helps this annoying, not easily contained "double" seem to appear, like a magician's shiny coin, where we least expect him.
The hut, itself, is a kind of Raoul, harboring outdated but dearly loved things such as a gleaming Victrola and scratchy records. The two beings--man and armored home--are closely attuned to each other. They communicate. Now and then, Raoul grumbles something at the hut. When he rattles his shoulders and arms, it responds with a noisy metallic quivering of its own. It can also shift parts of its structure at will. Even the air answers to Raoul's movements with gusts of musical sounds. But the air, too, has a stubborn will, and the loner finds himself batting away these chords as if they were big, invisible flies.
The disheveled, often frenzied Raoul is, without question, a diagnosable refugee from the abyss. We are left to guess the source of his damage and his reason for isolating himself. He attempts to hold himself together as best he can, but his body wages war on itself. Other "Raouls"--not all of them of the human species--continually fire his nerve endings and seep through his pores. For instance, and for no detectable reason, Thiérrée channels a high-spirited horse with such exacting, exhausting and finally convincing physical detail that he thoroughly deserves that feedbag he straps on near the passage's conclusion.
Over time, certain external Others attempt to engage Raoul, and these creatures are absolutely beguiling, thanks to designs and fabrications by Thiérrée's mother and mentor, Victoria Thiérrée. (She is the daughter of Charlie Chaplin, sister of Geraldine Chaplin, and wife of Jean Baptiste Thiérrée with whom she founded traveling New Circus troupes that included their kids, James and Aurélia.) Since I expect you to try to see Raoul, I will not spoil surprises by describing Mme. Thiérrée's handiwork. I will say, however, that her contributions perfectly resonate with the whimsy, beauty and melancholy entwined in her son's artistry.
Raoul's dark underpinning is inextricable from its humor. If you go, you might notice some audience members chuckling at certain things that you do not find funny, and vice versa. Or you might feel sensitive to the grief floating beneath the playful illusions. Thiérrée connects with each of us and reconnects us with something vulnerable within ourselves.
Remaining shows November 9, 10, 12, 13 at 7:30pm and November 14 at 3pm
BAM Next Wave Festival
BAM Harvey Theater
