"Tess". Oxford Playhouse

This review was written for Daily Information, and appears on their website here. 

Welcome to the 100^th President’s Husband’s Review. I decided to celebrate by… going to the theatre.

There can’t be many theatre companies like Ockham’s Razor. They combine physical performance and circus skills to create bold, distinctive, beautiful experiences. They tell stories of human suffering, love, tragedy and emotional honesty, and they express all that through the medium of human pyramids, tumbling, rope-work, and even the occasional bit of clowning.

Don’t expect red noses, enormous shoes or lion-tamers though. This is serious art, not Billy Smart.

Ockham’s Razor’s latest production is Tess, an adaptation of Thomas Hardy’s tragic 19^th-century novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Even with a cast of only seven (almost supernaturally gifted) performers, the stage seems constantly full of activity as they roll, dance and climb over planks, walls and each other. The story is narrated by just one figure, Macadie Amoroso in the role of Tess (and occasionally speaking as other characters too). While Amoroso is Tess’s voice, Lila Naruse takes on the parallel role of Tess’s body, immersed in the action.

The way this works out on stage is that Amoroso effectively introduces each scene, and then we watch a silent dance/circus sequence set to music that illustrates her introduction.

At this point the power of the production splits in two directions.

On one hand, the sheer physical skill and boundless creativity of the company make for a sequence of scenes that are both gorgeous to watch and impressively virtuosic. Tina Bicât’s sets and costumes, all wood and linen, give the action a free-flowing, homespun elegance that feels earthy and natural. And there are many moments when the worlds of circus and theatre collide to create something especially pleasing and new. Tess’s first meeting with the sinister cad Alec has him revolving around the stage inside a Cyr wheel like a dastardly version of Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian man. The wedding dance between Tess and Angel is performed with them standing motionless on the shoulders of other performers whose footwork makes it seem as though the bride and groom are moving awkwardly together. An entire herd of cows being milked is conveyed with surprising accuracy using little more than some cloth bags and a few ‘moo’s. A cross-country hike over hill and down dale is created by Lila Naruse climbing over and under some planks that are held and moved by the rest of the company. Most impressive of all, and the crowning moment of the entire evening, is the climactic death of Tess herself, hanged for murder. Naruse performs this with a corde lisse (circus rope dance), and her strength and skill honestly make it look as though she is weightless. Such is her control that, climbing up the rope or slipping down it, both seem equally effortless.

On the other hand…

Running at over two hours, the pace of this show is metronomic. Circuses are supposed to be energetic, like a vinyl record played at 45rpm, but Tess feels as though it has been turned down to 16. The repetitive nature of many of the scenes, with similar music, similar movement and similar settings, has an almost hypnotic effect. And the fact that it is played out in near silence beyond Amoroso’s narration makes for a soporific, strangely hushed atmosphere emanating from the stage, like watching a troupe of extremely acrobatic librarians. From the half-hour point, audience members were trickling out of the theatre. If cut to one hour, it would be scintillating. At two, despite all the wonders on display, it is a challenge. The pre-recorded music is extremely same-y, and there are simply too many scenes involving planks. At one point, as a large piece of wood started to nose its way onto the stage for the umpteenth time, I heard the woman in front of me whisper to her husband, ‘Not the planks again’. She spoke for many.

Although most of the characters do not talk, they still have voices. While Tess narrates to the audience, the others natter unintelligibly to each other while dancing and leaping, creating a sense of conversational hubbub. But the fact that we can’t understand what they are saying is strangely distancing, like watching a ballet performed by the Sims.

So Tess is a show of two halves: wonderful creativity, over-indulgent execution.

…But actually, it doesn’t matter about the over-indulgent execution.

What’s far, far more important is that this show, and the creative people behind it, have something very rare: true artistic integrity. They are prepared to experiment with ideas and theatrical forms that push the boundaries of stagecraft in new directions. They have pride in and respect for the heritage that lies behind their very special range of skills. And in sharing their passion they bare their souls. If that makes them a tiny bit over-serious, and a soupçon over-long in running time, well, they’ve earned it.

It is only through productions like Tess that theatre in our society is able to move on from the middle-brow, middle-class, middle-quality mountain of everyday stage fodder like Agatha Christie and Andrew Lloyd-Webber. That final hanging scene is a perfect synthesis of art, tragedy, strength and skill. If the price is a few planks, it’s one worth paying.