A Monday night at the theatre after a busy
weekend of filming was apparently just what the doctor ordered. Greenwich
Theatre was host to hit Edinburgh Fringe Show 'The Trench' by Les Enfants
Terribles. The audience walked into a smoky auditorium with the outline of a
blackened trench showing the stage. It took a while for me to notice the members
of the cast sitting in the darkness also.
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| http://lesenfantsterribles.co.uk/shows/the-trench/ |
My lack of awareness was probably because
of the sense of dread I had at the amount of teenagers there on a
school trip. I wouldn't normally have minded this but fifteen minutes into the
production, having listened to a wealth of inappropriate comments by a single teenage boy, I, not far from teen-hood myself, had to turn around and tell him to be quiet for me
to actually begin to start understanding and becoming part of the performance.
Back to the show.
As the play began I found it a little
difficult to get used to the main character's third person narration. Once I'd
settled into it though, it got easier to follow and the physical theatre was
not only supportive of this narration, but simply brilliant. The incorporation
of minimal props, of shadows, of projection, of movement, of puppetry and of
song was what made a fairly ordinary written piece, into a stunning one.
The still images I've included show you
just how imaginative Les Enfants Terribles have been with their production
although it doesn't not show you the carefully choreographed movement that
accompanied each episode. The breathing in of the monster during the 'gas
attack', the moving of the set across the stage during the projections to give the
illusion of time and movement, the beautiful embodiment of the beast and of our
soldier's wife.
The set was more than just a prop, it was a part of the
production, cleverly designed to seamlessly interact with the cast. The props
are passed through it, the lights are shone through it, the cast are seen
within it and above it, it folds down to show the bedroom of our soldiers
pregnant wife, it moves and collapses to become part of our soldier's journey
and to show the disorientation of being buried alive - but to name a few.
The props and puppets were beautifully made
and we as an audience appreciate them all the more as they are so tenderly
manoeuvred. A particular favourite moment was when the wife reaches out her
hand for the rain and snow and smooths over the snow beneath her.
There was symbolism everywhere too. The
story follows our entrenched soldier as he faces three challenges from the
beasts of his prison, challenges to prove his good and strong heart. The first,
is to walk the path of the dead and not falter. Overcome his fear and walk on
towards the exit - The fear that comes with war. The second, to tell another
beast what you could possibly give those in charge of war to stop them, as
smoke rises and blisters his skin, he answers nothing - a gas attack and
battling hallucination and pain to stay true to the cause of war. The third, to
put his inner child aside and others first as he rescues his comrade buried
alongside him - the loss of childhood innocence and camaraderie that came with
war, lost brothers in arms. All symbols within the symbol of walking the path
towards death. Pain, loss of hope then one last push before denial and death.
The walk towards the light could have been
him facing death, it could have been the end of the war, it could have been his
escaping the tunnel. The truth may be death but the production leaves it so we
make up our minds, create our own story, our own endings... as they who fought
could not.
Overall a wonderful piece with a voice that transcended our subconscious into seeking every metaphor, asking every question. A tremendous voice that I am eternally grateful exists outside of the theatre circuit. He stills your soul with his falsetto and makes our journey with 'The Trench' complete. You can buy his music here:
http://alexanderwolfe.bandcamp.com/
Enough of the poetry, a truly stunning show
that was not to be ruined by the ignorant teenage boy at the start, who failed
to appreciate the emotive performance we all became a part of.
