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Stephen Mottram
Animata:
The Seed Carriers
The Seas of Organillo
In Suspension

BAC / London International Mime Festival
January 2006

Reviewed by Matthew Isaac Cohen


A retrospective of three of Stephen Mottram’s works for puppets and automata, In Suspension (1988), The Seed Carriers (1995) and The Seas of Organillo (2004) was presented as part of the 2006 London International Mime Festival. Mottram has developed a distinctive style of work as a solo artist maximizing the use of his hand-crafted puppets and automata and remarkable skills as a string puppeteer.

The Seed Carriers, perhaps Mottram’s best-known and most-travelled work, is an allegory of exploitation and survival told with some forty beautifully designed string puppets, automata and other figures. The wordless play actualizes a ruthless ecosystem on a circular platform with sliding curtains and compartments. The eponymous seed carriers are small wooden figures who are captured and killed by the puppeteer and then harvested by the puppeteer’s co-agent, a mysterious old man (a tabletop puppet), an alchemist and fisherman with a head like a medieval physician’s mask. Redemption is achieved at the end: the seed carriers evolve, evading bear traps and nets and morphing into man-animal hybrids. The performance is a combination of stunning imagery and faultless manipulation. Much is made of the play of scale – the hulking puppeteer and the delicate seed carriers, the fragile and innocent seed carriers, and the indifferent mysterious old man. Some sequences are haunting. A cabinet opens up into a triptych, becoming the laboratory of the old man, who rummages through a pile of seed carrier corpses, discarding body parts in a pile, and opening up torsos to get at the precious seeds inside – represented as metallic balls, feathers, sand. These are measured on a scale and stored in vials. When a bit of inferior seed (represented as crumpled paper) is found not to measure up, it is discarded along with the body parts – and all subsequently end up churning in a black urn. Another moving scene shows baby seed carriers being extracted from pods, their cries of birth and their incubation inside of hanging nets.

The Seas of Organillo is a window upon a completely different world – a wordless undersea fantasia of creatures of the sea, carnivorous spheres, sea urchins, humanoid man-fish and shoals of fish. The puppeteer stands in a tower in the centre of a circular platform that covers most of his body and manipulates string puppets and automata in the ark before him. While the puppeteer plays an active role in The Seed Carriers, the highly focused stage lighting means that we see little of the puppeteer in this second piece. There is little in the way of story or progression, though there are many delightful images – a bubble escaping from a fish’s mouth, a fish-eating crab, the delicate kicking of humanoid feet. The audience sighed in delight when thirteen fish on fish paused in alertness and changed directions in unison – such was the precision of the animation and the illusion of life. There is even an interlude of magic – with one ball becoming two, a levitating ball and so on. The performance, though technically superb, is very slow and unmoving. The real star of the show is perhaps the mechanical organ that Mottram built for the show’s pre-recorded soundtrack. As the puppeteer/maker explained in a brief after-show demonstration, all of the music and effects (creaking, squealing and other mechanical sounds) are generated from this reconstruction of a 19th century instrument. Mottram was charming in this presentation, joking about his collaboration with composer Sebastian Castagna, explaining which parts were purchased from B&Q (emphasising he had no financial arrangement with the company) and bringing some much-needed human interaction into the proceedings.

In Suspension is a wordless cabaret show in six scenes enacted on a semi-circular platform backed by a curtained puppet booth. The first scene, a number entitled Animata dating to 1986, is a circus of monochromatic, barrel-bellied string puppets – a white acrobat, a blue strongman, an orange unicycle rider, a yellow trapeze artist, a red tightrope walker. All not only demonstrate the dexterity of the maker and animator, but also subtly allude to human foibles and eccentricities portrayed allegorically through superhuman feats. The masochism of the acrobat is apparent from the start in the way he pulls himself across the ground and contorts himself to stand on his hands. The blue strongman’s act smacks of exhibitionism, and the pride he takes as he casts down his dumbbells on the ground garnered laughter from the audience. The unicycle rider is manic, all starts and stops, hands quavering and moving to a syncopated beat. And so on. At the end of each artist’s bit, the puppet is whisked off and draped at the back of the stage, forming a mute audience of fellow-artists. And when the scene is over, all five puppets are quickly covered with a black sheet—a reminder of the circus’ perpetual play with death.
The second scene begins with the death of a large, two-legged bird. Tenderly, the puppeteer rubs the bird’s belly, unpeels a layer of skin and opens up its belly so that a baby bird can emerge from the corpse of its mother. This bird takes its first awkward steps and then meets another bird of its own size. The two birds play together, mirroring each other’s movements, dancing joyfully. The second bird slips over the edge, and the newborn bird is left by itself, plaintively looking over the edge of the platform for his friend. He too disappears over the edge and the mother’s corpse flies away.

The third scene is a dream. A white-skinned, corpulent man, with a perpetual frown sits on a toilet in the shape of an elephant’s foot. The sound of African drums and singing can be heard. A fly, naked to the eye, buzzes around the man and he tries to catch it. The man falls asleep on the toilet and starts to snore. (A beautiful effect, evidently accomplished by an internal motor in the bunraku-style puppet.) The fly of the man’s dream becomes visible: a giant six-limbed dancing grotesque, accompanied by a Latin pulse and with a gyrating lower extremity (a sequined dress). The limbs fly away from the body, the fly circles through the air, the legs and body move in precision to the music, until finally the white man wakes up, the African drumming resumes, and, with a rare smile of acknowledgement from the puppeteer and a bow from the puppet, the number concludes.

The fourth scene is the play of a body-less string puppet which shuffles its feet, flies to pieces, distends itself, glows in the dark. The fifth and sixth scenes are magic shows. In the fifth scene, a bunraku-style puppet dressed in a cowl and with a pentagram inscribed on his gown, does a cup and ball trick, levitates a ball, swallows a sword, pulls handkerchiefs and internal organs from its mouth and decapitates himself. In the evening’s finale, the back curtain is lifted away revealing a puppet booth. A glove puppet magician cranks up a phonograph, plays around with a pair of dancing feet, pulls a bunny and handkerchiefs out a hat, dodges a bouncing ball. The action is slapstick and the magician’s failures to control the recalcitrant rabbit, successfully dodge the ball and keep the phonograph running are all strangely endearing. While the glove puppet is the physically furthest and among the smallest puppets of the show, the magician is also among the most engaging characters, and it is hard not to feel sad when the puppeteer’s black-gloved hands swoops him up and carries him away.

Mottram has developed in this body of work a distinctive style of puppetry. The figures are all well crafted, finely detailed and best viewed in close proximity. Mottram’s manipulation and sense of timing are impeccable, and the coordination with music and subtle use of light is extraordinary. Many of the devices used in the shows are standard tricks of the marionette trade – In Suspension in particular is a veritable catalogue of string puppet tricks developed over centuries by masters of the trade. But Mottram’s studied use of sound and light, scenic design, rhythm, and staging elevates even the most mundane of tricks to the level of art.

Two points merit further commentary. Though the puppeteer is nearly always visible on stage, he does not emote with the puppets nor does he even take on a convincing attitude of concentration. His face displays little feeling, though occasionally it suggests ironic detachment. This distances us from his fragmentary narratives, making it harder to follow through-lines. Instead, we become focused on technique. Recorded music confirms the impression that the puppeteer is himself a puppet or automaton, moving according to the designs of a soundtrack pre-recorded a decade or more in the past. The performances thus feel slightly musty, not quite of the moment.

The second point is the matter of representation. The London International Mime Festival and Battersea Arts Centre marketed all three shows as ‘not suitable for children,’ while in this critic’s estimation they are very appropriate for kids over 5. Mottram’s productions are not children’s shows. But they are also not ‘adult shows,’ in the sense that there is nothing overtly sexual, vulgar or gratuitously violent in them. All this points to an endemic problem in British puppetry, the desire on the part of promoters and some artists to segment the sector into ‘children’s entertainment’ and ‘adult art’. Such a division is insidious and can only lead to bad shows for children and even worse shows for adults. Mottram’s puppet art deserves to be celebrated for what it is – highly evocative bridges to other worlds that can be traversed by young and old alike.

Andrew Dawson
Absence and Presence
ICA / London International Mime Festival
January 2006
Reviewed by
Beccy Smith

Absence and Presence is a physical meditation on memory; the very specific blend of affection, sadness, guilt, of images and emotion, connecting Andrew Dawson to his father who, after his death twenty years ago, was left undiscovered at his home for over a week. Dawson’s effortless economy of movement packs images onto the starkly white and empty stage. His mime dovetails breathtakingly from the mundane detail of his father’s daily subsistence to epic imaginary adventures and resonating images of father and son.

The magic of this performance is that it achieves that rare triptych, its movements and images communicating not only on a warmly intelligent level, but also one that is unashamedly emotional and powerfully theatrical. Joey Talbot’s vividly poignant orchestral score exponentially heightens the impact of the mime sequences’ power and beauty, perfectly complementing the contained control of Dawson’s physicality. Recurrent images of a moth furiously exploring the space and futilely returning to ever-higher bare bulbs evokes both the empty house, the contrast between his departed life and this minuscule life-force continuing and, like later diving and underwater sequences, translate as a recognisable metaphor of living with depression. Intercutting these are scenes of gut-wrenching intensity, Dawson imagining his father’s final throes and recreating the sense of abandonment experienced through the double loss of his father through first depression then death.

Theatrically, absence is incarnated from the smallest sounds of a fridge’s hum, to the pale canvas of a stage bare except for two chairs, three bulbs, a TV set and a wire mesh figure. Using the television to bring in footage of Dawson’s father (played by Dawson himself), who is charmingly, fleetingly present but forever sliding out of view – and in one bravura sequence of an inert body which, as we scroll across it, is seemingly conjured in empty space, aptly captures the remorselessness of the subject both within (at points in centre stage) of the piece and crucially, irreversibly removed from it.
Inclusion of this piece in Animations was inspired by a single sequence when (without directly touching it) Dawson uses hand-held light to vividly animate the sitting mesh figure of his father’s memory. This changing shadow, huge on the back wall screen, suggests both life and movement and sale of emotion and relationship. Its silent scene is one of the most evocative pieces of shadow puppetry I have witnessed. Later, as Dawson transforms the figure from babe-in-arms to prone older man, carrying him on his shoulders, and then as a dead body in his arms, it drives home that the re-animation of this life-sized figure, and its material of malleable, fleshy, translucent, invisible mesh, enacts the heart of the piece. Dawson has created a world where experiences of absence are beautifully and thoughtfully evoked for a theatre audience. And what better than puppetry itself to capture the simultaneous experience of absence and presence?

Compagnie Mossoux-Bonté
Out of the Heart of Darkness
Compagnie Mossoux-Bonté
Twin Houses
Purcell Room, SBC
London International Mime Festival
January 2006

Reviewed by Dorothy Max Prior


Twin Houses is a wordless solo performance which combines dance-theatre with puppetry/object animation. Specifically, the female performer works with five mannequins to create a series of short scenes – movement sequences and tableaux that evoke the Gothic and the surreal; a catalogue of moving pictures that reference the imagery of dreams and nightmares. Described in the publicity as a ‘spine tingling study of physical and spiritual possession’ that is ‘eerie, sinister and erotic’, I was disappointed to find Twin Houses none of those things. It was originally made ten years previously and cited as a landmark of visual theatre, so maybe the world has moved on and the piece no longer has the power it held originally? Lest I have given a different impression, it must be said that it is a very competent piece of work – a visually attractive piece, well-executed; but I found it neither haunting nor particularly thought-provoking. And although the manipulation is very skilled, I rarely suspend disbelief for long enough to believe in the mannequins as anything other than an extension of the dancer.

It starts in a low-key tone that continues throughout most of the piece. I like the low-level yellow-tinged lighting that evokes Fuseli’s nightmarish Gothic paintings; I appreciate the insistent drone of the soundscape that floods the space with an ominous atmosphere; I admire the fluidity of the movement and the way the mannequins are worked in symbiotic harmony with the performer. But having established the ground-rules of the piece, it doesn’t seem to progress; as one section morphs into the next, there is little that shifts, few surprises or moments of revelation. An exception is a light-hearted partner-dance section that lifts the piece by injecting a shift of tone.

A pleasant enough experience, but leaving the theatre there is hardly anything that remains to stay with me.

Royal Shakespeare Company
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Novello Theatre, London
February 2006
Reviewed by Penny Francis

The romance, the featherlight wit, the knockabout comedy, the faerie and folk elements, all of these combine to make this one of the most popular of The Bard’s comedies.

The production by the RSC is reviewed here because there are puppets in it. We saw a toddler and some tiny fairies made by Lyndie Wright in the workshop of the Little Angel, the toddler being the little changeling Indian boy who causes the marital spat between Titania and Oberon, and the fairies being – well, the fairies, carried as fluttering icons by human actors dressed as fairies, presumably their doubles. The puppet fairies made only minimal impact: given their size and the cluttered background for their fluttering, they were not very visible. Actually, they were manufactured dolls with wings attached. Steve Tiplady and Rachel Leonard had coached the actors in their manipulation, but some need reminding of how to make their fairy flutter better. Shadows haunted the otherwise modernist backdrop of the forest scenes rather beautifully: Steve Tiplady and his Indefinite Articles company were at least partly responsible: he knows a thing or two about shadow play.

The Indian boy baby looked endearing and turned his head very prettily. Not much more was demanded of it or the other figures, though there was a shocking moment at the beginning when Puck dashed a fairy to the ground, ripped off her wings and stamped on her. To a puppet fanatic it was sheer horror. Puck (or Robin Goodfellow) was the surprise and star of the show. The actor’s name is Jonathan Slinger and he looks like a plumper version of Phelim McDermott (from Improbable) – and behaved like him too. He was very, very funny, in an interpretation of the role I’ve never witnessed before. Shambling, laid back, insolent, but as mischievous as Puck should be, he sported a bright red hairdo with spikes, and wore baggy t-shirt and trews.

The rude mechanicals were funny too, and Bottom, played by the mightily tall Malcolm Storry, made me laugh more than any other Bottom I can recall. The lovers, on the other hand, did a lot of shouting and cavorting to little effect, and I cared nothing for them. Any hope of their living happily ever after seemed unrealistic. A good laugh at the expense of the short one, Hermia, came when her friend Helena called her a puppet.

Otherwise the ‘real’ puppets brought overtones of fantasy and otherworldliness to the production, but perhaps they could have been exploited to greater effect. The fleshly fairies supporting them seemed very solid and the forest setting very jagged by contrast. They were, I’m afraid, overwhelmed. But how good that yet another fine company has found in puppetry a treasure to enrich their work still further!

Sketty Productions
Imogen
Oval House, London
February 2006

Reviewed by Chris Abbott


Well received at the Edinburgh Festival, Imogen recently returned to London before setting out on a national tour. Against a detailed naturalistic set, a cast of six tell a story of loss and death. We see the central character, Leonardo, trying to cope with the loss of first his daughter and then his partner. The daughter, Imogen, is portrayed as a puppet (wearing a rabbit hood in the early scenes), sensitively operated by Lowri James with Alex Clarke.
Although this character is always believable, it did take a while to accept the remote (and rather too cute) child voice-over as being her, and it was surprising that her lines were not spoken by the puppeteer. In a large cast for a small venue, Dani Machancoses’ central mesmerising performance was well matched with Miranda Keeling as his partner and Ollie Simpson in a supporting role. The other puppet character, the Crow, was beautifully handled by Alex Clarke, who managed to convey the weight of the bird as it landed, and its preening movements, so that it was totally real for the audience.
Writer/director Toby Clarke has created a thoughtful and effective piece and he is probably wise to keep it to around an hour in length. The intensity of the central action would be difficult to maintain – or for an audience to accept – for a longer period. Darryl Worbey’s puppets were always effective and often added weight to the narrative in a way which would have been impossible for human actors. The puppets were well integrated into the action and puppetry illuminated the human actors when Leonardo began to move Amie as if she too was a puppet, and when he was later moved by others. The malevolent crow – perhaps standing for the returning cancer, or for death? – was the most striking part of the evening, although the central actor’s athletic and intense performance will also remain in the memory.


Oily Cart
If All The World Were Paper
Lyric, Hammersmith
February 2006

Reviewed by Penny Francis


You could call this show ‘material theatre’ since it was all about paper and nearly everything was made of paper. The scenography by Amanda Webb was pleasing, starting out in a black and white setting before a paper proscenium with a paper curtain, and three actors in black and white with paper hats, and ending in a highly coloured rainbow land where even the trees and their fruit and flowers were paper.

The show was billed for 2-5 year-olds and was written by someone who must be the most prolific and experienced writer in this field – Tim Webb. He directed, too. There was a story which didn’t matter too much but which worked very well: a string of cut-out paper girls, one of whom runs away and finds many adventures and finally returns to find her formerly attached sisters restless to be free, like her, worked very well. On the way we met some imaginative situations and characters, such as a giant paper bird, a paper boat, amusing activity around a paper house, and lots and lots of paper bags which made that wonderful popping sound when collecting strange items. I remember Eric Morecambe of Morecambe and Wise doing it and I still don’t know the secret. It’s magic as far as I’m concerned, so please don’t tell me. Lots of jolly music and songs accompanied the journey, some recorded and operated from a laptop onstage, some live.

Criticisms or could-do-better section: as the show progressed I became increasingly uncomfortable at the full-on volume of the playing, especially of the two women who, otherwise charming, easily went into screech mode. Moments of softer, lower tones and the occasional under-playing would improve things. The action also became wearyingly frenetic: even the movement in the underwater sequence suggested anything but the world of the deep where it’s difficult to do anything quickly.

The production was, however, characterised by originality, invention and a sense of fun which kept the young audience and their mothers attentive. Everyone left smiling.


Little Angel
Sleeping Beauty In The Wood
Little Angel Theatre
Islington, London
February 2006

Reviewed by Sarah McAlister


The Little Angel Theatre had a full house of assorted ages to see their new production Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. Based on the familiar fairytales (by Grimm and Perrault), it includes all the elements of the originals - a King and Queen, Princess Rose, six good fairies and one wicked fairy, and a handsome prince who comes to the rescue.

Directed and designed by Joy Haynes (from Banyan Theatre, who also directed previous production The Frog Prince), this inventive show involves two delightful performers, Rachel Leonard and Andrew Nixon (who also composed and performs
the music), expressive puppets and three ingenious wooden automata (all made by the creative Jan Zalud), a great use of shadow scenes, and generally excellent lighting (by Adam Crosthwaite).

There’s an engaging start as the performers come in from the back with some curious props (including a large teapot and potty) and start the storytelling with some zany shadow scenes showing the queen, who wants very much to have a baby. The much-desired small baby finally arrives, rather curiously, by being tossed to the front of the audience. (‘Why is it a rabbit?’ asked one child near me, but we soon realised it wasn’t). The princess was named Rose by her delighted parents, who invited six fairies to her christening – a beautiful scene with the feather-fairies giving their gifts in a pink light. The audience was gripped when the scene suddenly went dark: with loud knocks, the horrible shadow of the long-nosed uninvited fairy appeared. Of course, she brought her shocking prediction that Rose would prick her finger on a spindle on her fifteenth birthday and die.

The scene where the king ordered that all spindles should be burned was brilliantly effected with flashing red light. Dark shadows were equally effective in showing the scary thorn hedge which grew to surround the enchanted palace. An unusual character, which captivated the whole audience at this point, was a small puppet skeleton whose limbs and neck extended as it danced, producing spontaneous laughter and applause.

The Little Angel has always been a magical place, and this latest production provides an imaginative and colourful experience in storytelling.

Jose Navarro

Animalia
White Bear Pub Theatre, Kennington
March 2006

Reviewed by Chris Abbott


A rainy Monday night in south London is not an enticing prospect, and arrival at a deserted pub with two customers in the gloomy interior didn’t increase the sense of expectation. I was concerned that I was in the wrong place as there was no poster anywhere to say that a performance was planned, although plenty of evidence that the rival attraction in the bar would be Wigan v. Manchester United on the big screen. However, sure enough, at just before 7pm, the doors to the theatre box office opened and I collected my ticket. I queried the starting time and was told it would be not 7pm but 7.15ish… At 7.30 we were at last called in to the theatre – myself, one other audience member and a group of people who seemed to be friends of the performer.

Jose Navarro’s performance was of a quality that deserved a far more professional setting. A physically adept and technically accomplished puppeteer and mime, his set of divertissements presented a series of creatures formed mostly from his own hands, arms and feet. A lively and appropriate soundtrack was used together with reasonably effective lighting, although it was unfortunate that the performer was sometimes in the shadow rather than the lit area. It was also very annoying that one of the group of friends took photographs throughout the performance: the camera was silent but the green laser beam from the camera auto-focus completely wrecked the effect of the lighting on the characters.

There were many effective moments in the show although there was also a degree of repetition at times. The silent arguing faces, the shoe as a sea-horse, the foot fish and the dog were all memorable, and the character performing the kiss of life aroused the first noticeable reaction from a rather unresponsive audience.

What the show needed – apart from a more professional attitude on the part of the venue – was a director and some sense of narrative or overall coherence. I thought at first this was a piece in development but I notice from Jose Navarro’s website that it has been performed since 2001. Too often the series of vignettes presented something rather too much like an artistic version of a puppet cabaret – a series of striking turns but no overall build-up. Jose Navarro is a talented performer with commitment and concentration, and it is to be hoped that he will find collaborators who will help him to harness his talents to create a more satisfying performance. I look forward to seeing future performances by him – but I don’t plan on returning to the White Bear Pub Theatre in a hurry.


Wax Baby Productions
iDollEyes
The Rosemary Branch Theatre, London
March 2006


The umbrella title, iDollEyes, takes as its inspiration the vision of the puppet, and this seemed to lie at the heart of the diverse array of shorts presented by Wax Baby productions, out of the London School of Puppetry. The puppet’s world has its own rules and its own slant on the world, a surreal perspective. The pieces in this cabaret-style selection captured this sense theatrically, immersing us in a bizarre universe of grotesqueness and cuteness, weirdly re-imagined classics and fantastical one-shots. Self-styled as ‘the new theatre of animation’, the aesthetic certainly drew much from an animated style and had its cartoonish elements but it was also underpinned with a craftsman’s eye –beautifully made figures and imaginative material stagings were recurrent.

The evening’s performances varied in quality but highlights included the elegantly thought-through simplicity of Tratincica Slavicek’s Birdybrella, where a lonely, gawky bird finds its wings and a family; and inventive and energetic shadow puppetry by Urko Redondo Pescador whose romping reinvention of Shakespeare in Bottomed Out had great comic characterisation and energy; Yuki Muramatsu’s precise focus and dextrous technique were especially notable, creating fantasy worlds of flying rabbits, fruit-based melodramatic street theatre (Tutti Fruity AKA Romeo and Juliet!) and warm subaquatic sagas all demonstrating the skills of a refined performer.

Overall though, such skills could be patchily in evidence and the evening for me suffered from a lack of production value, occasionally sloppy staging and moments where the performances simply weren’t up to scratch. Its strengths lay in showcasing the work of a range of exciting emergent artists; work which was inventive and effortlessly crossed boundaries of live art, street art, installation and theatre. When it worked, iDollEyes succeeded in showcasing the craft of puppetry and an intriguingly inventive aesthetic. By investing a similar level of commitment to direction and production, perhaps this new ‘theatre of animation’ really could be nurturing a revolution.

Basement Theatre of Tbilisi
Faust
Athis Mons, Paris
November 2005

Reviewed by Julia McLean


This version of the classic puppet drama Faust (by the renowned Basement Theatre company from Tbilisi in Georgia) was played by a16-strong ensemble using table-top rod puppetry. Aquiline heads and delicately carved hands of lime wood, characteristic of Russia and east Europe, season the performance – each character controlled by a team of up to three puppeteers.

Three doctors sedate an asylum inmate who imagines himself to be Faust. The veteran patient falls into a twilight slumber where he relives Goethe’s story of the anti-hero’s pact with the devil – to sign away his soul in exchange for eternal life. The ‘physicians’ retire to their table and glasses of water to voice text for the action taking place on a long blacked trestle centre stage, while above and beyond is a spacious black void (which is used to good effect at the witches Sabbath scene). The open format does not attempt to conceal puppeteers’ heads or hands, or the demonstrative trio of actors now stage right on the apron.

Goethe’s tale of the permanent fall from grace focuses on Amore and the price of temptation: young Faust’s seduction of Gretchen, aided and abetted by Mephistopheles; her ruin and death, his murder of Valentine in a duel who dies trying to avenge his sister. However, Faust’s subsequent repentance cannot halt her fate or the gleeful triumph of the dancing devils. Back in the infirmary, the patient is condemned to forever dream the replay of Faust’s never-to-be-resolved dilemma.

The exploration of these ‘dark materials’ no doubt has resonance for a company which has physically dug out an arena for puppet theatre from a basement in Tbilisi, against many odds.

Faust is defined by ingenious ensemble work from a troupe whose size would surely be unsustainable in Britain – a remarkable and unique production.



> Top of page

REVIEWS IN eDITION 16

> Stephen Mottram
Animata:
The Seed Carriers
The Seas of Organillo
In Suspension

BAC / London International Mime Festival
January 2006

Reviewed by Matthew Isaac Cohen

> Andrew Dawson
Absence and Presence
ICA / London International Mime Festival
January 2006
Reviewed by Beccy Smith

> Compagnie Mossoux-Bonté

Out of the Heart of Darkness
Compagnie Mossoux-Bonté
Twin Houses
Purcell Room, SBC
London International Mime Festival
January 2006

Reviewed by Dorothy Max Prior

> Royal Shakespeare Company
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Novello Theatre, London
February 2006
Reviewed by Penny Francis

> Sketty Productions
Imogen
Oval House, London
February 2006

Reviewed by Chris Abbott


> Oily Cart
If All The World Were Paper
Lyric, Hammersmith
February 2006

Reviewed by Penny Francis

> Little Angel
Sleeping Beauty In The Wood
Little Angel Theatre
Islington, London
February 2006

Reviewed by Sarah McAlister

> Jose Navarro
The Man Who Discovered That Women Lay Eggs
Animalia
White Bear Pub Theatre, Kennington
March 2006

Reviewed by Chris Abbot
t

> Wax Baby Productions
iDollEyes
The Rosemary Branch Theatre, London
March 200
6

> Basement Theatre of Tbilisi
Faust
Athis Mons, Paris
November 2005

Reviewed by Julia McLean


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> AO16 Book Review
chattentheater/Shadow Theatre 3 by Rainer Reusch

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