One recurring theme in the
physical/visual work seen at the London International Mime Festival is
man’s relationship with space and with physical forces. These shows may
involve some contortionism, some
trompe
l’oeil design, some precise choreography of human interaction
with usually inanimate objects. Sometimes such work can be revelatory:
I remember with joy my first exposure to Compagnie 111 at the Mime Fest
several years ago. Sometimes, however, it is simply
there. And sometimes it may even
shade into a kind of self-congratulation. Claudio Stellato’s
L’Autre, I am afraid, moves between
the two latter categories.
In dim light a man slowly crosses the stage, carrying a
small-to-medium-sized four-legged cabinet on his shoulders. With
agonising slowness he crouches, shifts its weight to his neck then lets
it settle on the floor. He clambers over, around and into it (it is
barely big enough to accommodate an exceptionally crouched human form).
Even more slowly, over a period of ten minutes or so, a longer cabinet
has been slowly emerging from the darkness at the back of the stage.
Finally, it swings on to its base, oscillates and comes to a gradual
and only momentary halt. Stellato’s movements in, out and round now
involve both objects, and also entail several instances of seeming to
balance the larger on top of the smaller in ways that are physically
impossible.
It is all highly deliberate and slow-mo. The darkness, and the help of
Martin Firket (who also resembles Stellato closely enough in this
quarter-light), give the cabinets lives and unusual properties of their
own. But it does not connect. Perhaps this is because the human figure
itself feels so “other” that we feel no bond with it; there is
certainly no display of thought or emotion. Indeed, somewhat bizarrely
for a piece lasting less than 50 minutes, there may be an element of
durational aesthetic to the work: “Let’s see how slow we can make this
without losing the audience.” Not nearly that slow, is the verdict from
Row N. Still, if nothing else, the sequence in which Stellato’s upper
torso protrudes from the smaller cabinet and he drags himself and it
across the stage shows us what a centaur designed by Ikea would look
like.
Written for the Financial
Times.