THEATRE: HOW TO LOSE SIGHT – FREELANCE PRIMATE
Review By Steve McGrath
Created by and music composed by: Michal Imielski
Cast and co devisors: Barton Williams, Cloe Fournier, Gideon Payten-Griffiths, Julia Landrey, Odile Leclezio, Peter Maple, Pollyanna Norwicki and Shauntelle Benjamin.
Synopsis: Inspired by true stories of Australians who are vision impaired, we become a fly on the wall in this site specific work as visually impaired characters share with us their loves and memories.
Review: We wait eagerly in the foyer of the Riverside Theatre Parramatta for the show to begin. A young smiling woman, Pollyanna Norwicki, greets us with a white chair that appears to be floating a few feet in front of her. I double take and realise the white chair is attached to a floppy pole she levitates with grace. She and the perky Barton Williams escort us not into a theatre but outside into the stark reality of the sticky Parramatta sunset and towards the park. We follow Polly as if we had become a gaggle of vision impaired people being led not by a white cane, but a white chair that symbolises us as “the audience”. This reassured me that we were being lured to a conventional seat, despite it being interactive, site specific, performance based theatre created by innovative artists.
As we cross the street, traffic grinds to a halt at the sight of our merry band following Polly’s floating chair. Car horns and those who press them sound encouragement to us as they assume we are a newly formed “Occupy Parramatta” group, about to take up camp in Prince Alfred Park. By now I fear the police will appear and pepper spray us; our resultant blindness being the director’s strategy to have us arrive in the right mind space for the play.
My paranoid fears give way when the chair, Polly and Bart lead us safely to a charming cottage that seems to have sprung out of nowhere, like a sight for sore eyes. We are immediately divided into groups of six at random and sent to our rooms. Myself and the five other complete strangers that make up our mini audience take our seats in our room that is decorated in what could be described as a mad woman’s breakfast. We wait. The room is small. We smile nervously at each other with nothing to distract ourselves but the music playing on a small sound system. Whatever is about to happen is going to happen right on our laps. Suddenly, the door bursts open, a manic young woman in a red mini skirt springs wildly into the room. We watch her struggle to stand on her head in the corner, hoping she is meant to be here. I wince as her high heels kick out wildly and scratch the paint on the wall. My anxiety mounts as I fear the company will not get their bond back from this heritage home when the run is over. The young woman proceeds to climb the walls like she was demon possessed. An elderly lady beside me recoils and begins shouting in Vietnamese. Luckily, the woman climbing the walls was an actress, not a latecomer in search of a seat. The elderly Vietnamese woman was real. Her daughter spent the rest of the night stroking her and whispering “They’re only acting … They’re only acting …” Thus, the mood is set for this extraordinary night of theatre we found ourselves immersed in.
As the manic young woman in the high heels, played by Cloe Fournier, begins to calm, she shares her first love affair with us through the eyes of a blind woman. It becomes touching and funny. A young couple in our mini audience rest their hands on each other knees as we all over come our initial discomfort and accept that we’re all in this together. No hiding behind programmes or chip packets in this show – and who knows how much more paint work would be scratched by the manic woman if anyone’s mobile had begun to vibrate.
She began flirting with the man sitting beside me and delighted at the discovery of the hair on his arms; pondering if this was love at first sight. We smirked at our colleague’s interaction with the actress and now audience and performer had become one. The only difference between us was that we were the sighted watching the sightless.
We are ushered into the next room to meet the next sight impaired person. We waited in limbo, like being in a dentist’s office without any magazines to read. After a few moments we could hear the familiar voice from across the hall of the manic woman we had just met. Upon hearing the sound of the crashing of furniture, the six of us immediately turned to each other and laughed; we imagined our fellow audience members reacting to what we had already experienced. We had bonded. Something an audience doesn’t usually do in conventional theatre until they queue at the bar at interval.
Deeper into the house we find a tranquil, dream like world as a calmer sight impaired lady, (played by Odile LeClezio) recalled memories of her father. Her experiences are expressed with simple but extremely effective visual effects and puppetry, (Julia Landrey and Gideon Payten-Griffiths).
Adding to our adventure was the reminder that our fellow groups were off having a journey of their own in some other part of the house at the same time. We heard angry male voices shouting from our future room and a familiar Vietnamese accent still reassuring her mother “It’s only acting, it’s only acting! …” Theatre was in the house. It was all around us and virtually coming out of the woodwork.
We departed the deep sea of memories and were escorted to the next room. Just as we gang of six felt we had conquered our environment, we came across our most confronting residents; a sight impaired couple (Peter Maple and Shauntelle Benjamin) bringing a new meaning to the phrase “love is blind”.
Creator Michael Imielski has woven together an insightful clutch of tales inspired by listening to the stories of genuine blind people and rebirthed by sighted actors of his SHH Theatre Company. Imielski blends his original music into the scenes and takes advantage of the house the show is staged in. A clever use of blinds and windows creates a fascinating voyeuristic effect mixed with a dedicated cast that work seamlessly in our faces. While at times it was a little too rich in concept when one yearned for more text, it’s still a powerful experience in theatre that challenges all our working senses.
Finally, the audience divided became united once again on the front lawn of the house. The cast emerged and we mingled as if we had all just appeared in a season of “Big Brother”. The elderly Vietnamese woman met the ensemble and finally believed they were “just acting”. Barton Williams said: “I love the intimacy of the confined working space, being able to really use eye contact to gauge my audience responses!” My gang of six agreed. “How To Lose Sight” plays until the 10th of December.
