I was at the Barbican Theatre the other day watching an excellent production of Moby Dick (produced by Plexus Polaire). Prior to the production commencing, the audience could see what appeared to be a whale bone at the back of the stage.
One row behind me in the audience, a boy asked his Dad (I assumed based on the conversations I overheard and their degree of familiarity that their relationship was father and son) if the whale bone was real. His Dad responded, "don't assume that anything in the theatre is real".
If you know me at all and even if you don't, let's just say that this statement has acted as a red rag to a bull. So let's begin...
Reality and realism are two of the most hotly contested philosophical concepts. Almost as popular and open to debate as existential concepts exploring the meaning of life. Well, for the purposes of this blog, I am going to summarise reality as any experience of any given moment by either a living, dead or inanimate person, creature or object.
So if we accept my admittedly basic summation of reality as lived or unlived experience, the young man's Dad is attending the theatre and experiencing its possible delights and offerings in a way that may detract from his future memories of the theatrical experience. This could be his reality. I am not assuming that will always be the case but for some reason, he has chosen to somehow differentiate his theatrical experience from his walk to work or his experience of a plate of corn flakes. I don't think that you can.
For me, theatre is as much a part of my lived experience and reality as brushing my hair or reading a book. In fact, theatre is more of a rewarding experience than many aspects of reality because it is a communal experience, even though as is the case with every other aspect of life, we experience it in our own way.
Let's use the example of Plexus Polaire's production of Moby Dick the other night to explore how if anything, theatre can even heighten our sense of reality. It can transport us from the mundane to the sublime.
I arrived in the theatre and sat down. On this occasion, I didn't see the safety curtain/barrier open (the Barbican Theatre's safety curtain/barrier is arguably the most impressive one I have seen. It's a metal reflective surface that separates, half of it goes to the top of the stage and half of it descends into the front of the stage), but I did get to experience the sensation of gazing at the stage, taking in the details of the 'whale bone' at the back of the stage and the musical instruments to either side of the stage, which included an electric guitar and a double bass etc.
The audience behind me chatted happily and the person alongside me complimented me on the fact that I had the most central ticket in the front row as it offers the most immediate sight line of a production. It's not always the best position, particularly if the stage is higher, but for most theatres, if you want to feel as though you are engaging with the proceedings on stage, it's a good place to sit. Just watch our for the actors' saliva if you are watching a play by Shakespeare or even an angry scene from a play by Tennessee Williams.
When the play started, music, movement, puppetry and song were framed by the narration of a character who in many respects served the role of an 'Everyman' style figure; a point of connection between the audience and the future action on stage.
The whale bone in the shape of a horseshoe became the symbolic basis for Captain Ahab's ship and also the central focus for other theatrical devices. Also Captain Ahab (as represented by a puppet) was alternately huge in size or much smaller depending on his proximity to the audience and his perceived sense of omnipotence.
Puppetry was an intrinsically important aspect of this production and there were several beautiful and memorable scenes including the scenes involving the whales swimming against a constantly changing backdrop, conveyed by lighting and projection etc.
My favourite scene and I hasten to add not because of its horror but because of its emotional tenderness, involved the visceral image (represented by puppetry) of a whale being stripped of its flesh, whilst a young whale swam around, possibly its mother or father. The scene depicted the fact that the whaling industry was (and I guess occasionally still is) dependant on processing the whales at the point of the kill. It's an industry like any other and the sperm oil was very valuable and used in perfumes etc.
When the performance ended essentially after another narration, the audience applauded and the performers came out a couple of times acknowledging the positive engagement from the audience and gesticulating towards the other people involved in the making of the production.
Okay, that was my remembered experience. There were a lot more details that I have chosen to keep to myself, in case you get to see the show if it tours, but let's return to my original summation of reality as any experience of any given moment, in this case by an individual, me.
For me, theatre at its most rewarding can engage on an emotional, philosophical, physical and visual level.
By its very nature, theatre is sensory. It engages all of the senses of perception. If you experience any issues with your senses, it won't make your experience any less enjoyable but it will change how you engage with the proceedings on stage. My sister and I once saw a performance in the dark (Tutto Bene, Mamma? at the Print Room in London), where we were led to our seats and were not aware of the physical mise-en-scene until the lights were turned on at the end of the play. We could hear and even smell the events as they happened on stage (the audience were seated around the performance space) but we could not see them. Also it made our experience of the actors entirely different as we couldn't see them and they didn't come out at the end. But we could feel their movement in the air and their vibrations.
Our sensory perceptions are augmented by the lighting on stage, regularly directing your attention to what the director and production team want you to focus on. Of course, as an audience member, you may be drawn to something else. This is your experience. If you want to focus on a detail, as it may bring back a memory of something else, you go ahead and do this.
Emotional engagement is another crucial aspect of the reality of the theatrical moment. I saw a production of Lorca's Blood Wedding at the Young Vic in 1996 and was held mesmerised by scattered flower petals that covered the stage area at the end of the first half and for the majority of the interval. For me, they encapsulated the sense of loss and emotional damage that pervades the play and also helped me to explore my own lived experiences around this time.
The theatre can also be highly educational, philosophical or moral. The theatre troupes or companies are trying to convey a message. In the case of Moby Dick, the reiterated idea that obsession can be very unhealthy. To try to conquer or destroy from a position of anger and rage will undoubtedly leave you ruined. The complexity of the human condition can be represented on stage in a way that allows the audience to feel more or less safe in its engagement with the events unfolding before it.
As is the case with other artistic forms, the reality we experience when we sit in the dark or light is ultimately, our reality. We can be shocked if something in the production incites or arouses a reaction from us. For example, The Years at the Almeida Theatre in London resulted in a number of the audience members experiencing sickness etc throughout the production's run because of certain aspects of the play, most notably, a fairly graphic depiction of the aftermath of an abortion. Also the highly intelligent, detailed and mature exploration of the emotions and sensations that a woman would experience in the situation could be triggering if anyone has gone through the same experiences.
It intrigues me these days, how trigger warnings are added to the theatre websites to give the audience an idea as to what they can expect to experience when they see a play.
Theatre may be mediated reality at times, but what it does and on many occasions does so well, is to offer an alternative way to view the world. It can translate memories, imagination and lived experiences into a pure and immediate form.
Your theatrical experience, young father with your child is not mine. Your experience of reality is your own, but next time your son asks you if the whale bone is real, the answer is yes, someone has made a symbolic representation of a whale bone or jaw as you chose to perceive it. It may not be an actual bone formed of calcium etc but it stands for a whale, a ship and an industry that resulted in mass extinction. It symbolises death, yet also in this theatrical experience, a new beginning, a hope that through this theatrical moment, a lesson can be learnt.
I am at the theatre and I am living my best life.
Barry Watt - 27th January 2025.
Afterword.
Plexus Polaire are an amazing theatre company. Please see their website below for photos from their version of Moby Dick and other productions. It's in French but you can translate using Google etc:
Moby Dick was originally a novel by Herman Melville. It's available in so many editions. Any references to characters etc from the novel are copyright and are used for illustrative purposes.
The other productions and plays referenced in this blog are copyright. The Years has transferred to the West End of London for a short season and is well worth seeing:
BW.
Photo (My photo of the whale bone in Plexus Polaire's production of Moby Dick).
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| Whale bone in Moby Dick. BW. |
