Arts > Theatre
Bells and Spells (NNF)
Norwich Theatre Royal
18/05/19
It is something of a cliché to say that a performance defies description, but Victoria Thierrée Chaplin’s audacious mix of mime, dance, puppetry and illusion really is in a category of its own. Starring her daughter, Aurélia Thierrée, Bells and Spells is an episodic, hallucinogenic journey through increasingly loopy vignettes drawn from Chaplin’s weird and wonderful imagination.
Book-ended by what looked like a long wait in a waiting room, I’m guessing what we saw was the daydream of Thierrée’s protagonist, who falls for a man in a picture on the wall, shortly after which he springs to life. Along the way she obsessively steals trinkets from him, and others, objects that then take their revenge on her. To be frank, though, I’m getting much of that from the programme notes. While there is a narrative of sorts that runs through the show, it’s tricky to see where the disembodied heads, the animated chandeliers or the quick change routine fit into the scheme of things. Trying to squeeze a story I’d been led to expect into the stage antics before me actually proved to be distracting – far better to enjoy the frequently startling stagecraft on show as stand-alone scenes of mayhem and magic
The company obviously delights in confounding expectation, and crammed invention and surprise into every minute. Aurélia Thierrée and her dancing partner Jaime Martinez were forever disappearing into armchairs or revolving doors, only to reappear in paintings or amongst bed sheets. Thierrée morphed into a vulture, then a bull, and then, inexplicably into what I think was a bed louse. Martinez, meanwhile, was content to swap heads with a pug. If not a lot of that make sense, then I can only say that it didn’t at the time, but neither did it seem to matter, and neither, after all, do daydreams, which I’m convinced the show was fundamentally representing. The best thing to do proved to be just to let yourself go, expect what you’re seeing, sit back and enjoy a spectacle that harkened back to the non sequitur randomness of Grand Guignol theatre, albeit a PG version. I am wary of saying much more than that, and certainly of being much more specific. This UK premiere will tour, and although the associated teaser trailer gives far too much away (steer clear of it if you’ve not seen the show) I’m inclined to keep the best reveals under wraps.
Consistently light-hearted fun, the production was charming witty and amusing. The occasional outright gag drew a chuckle from the audience, but it was the sort of polite recognition you get in a Shakespeare comedy – acknowledgement and appreciation rather than in voluntary reflex. Belly laughs aren’t everything, though, and the smaller pleasures of whimsy and charm are not to be dismissed. What worked best were the moments that transcended humour, or narrative, or even coherence. Sometimes these were straightforward stage illusions that wouldn’t be out of place in a Vegas show. Sometimes we saw superb puppetry skills. Sometimes the stage was filled by nothing more than billowing reams of cloth. I couldn’t say quite what it all added up to, but the show was never less than engaging, while some of the set pieces – the hat stand creature springs to mind – were extraordinary.
Coming in at a brisk seventy minutes, the performance flew by, seemingly finishing only moments before it started. The resonance left behind was akin to a particularly evocative dream – the kind that you desperately want to share, but can’t quite get straight in your head when it comes to the telling. Plaudits must be due to the festival for putting such an eccentric show on in such a large performance space. It was certainly well attended, which must be heartening for those that took at risk on it. With its moments of touching intimacy, not least those evoked by Thierrée’s expressive face, I couldn’t help but wonder how the show came across when viewed from the back of the auditorium. I can only say that those of us lucky enough to be close to the action were rewarded by a curious mix of grand spectacle, exuberant eccentricity, and touching tenderness, the like of which I can’t recall having ever seen before.