It's a story that kicks off with a summery Sunday afternoon with the limelight on a little French cafe, complete with characteristic little round tables and dainty white chairs. 1950s dresses of tight waists and large flares, gentlemen in suits of civil politeness, the grocers and its resident couple at the side. Then suddenly, a roar thunders, dust flies rampantly all around, and everyone jumps up in panic and horror... a rhinocerous -gasp- has stormed across town! The characters go on to debate - after a second sighting later on - on whether African rhinoceroses have two horns or one, or Asian rhinoceroses, or maybe the first one had only one horn and the second had two, or the second one was the first one and dropped a horn, or maybe the first one had one horn anyway... (rather like Monty Python's african swallows, eh?) Everyone's obsessed about the rhinoceroses; everyone's curious; everyone's thinking hard about them. And slowly, but quickly enough to be terrifying, everyone starts turning into a rhinoceros as the play progresses......
Absurdist theatre, yes, and it sure was hilarious when it was meant to be funny. But the terrifying bits were portenteous and sinister enough to send constant chills down your spine (well, mine). As the play moved into its third, fourth and subsequent acts the message can't be any less than clear: the mindlessness of Man's herd mentality, the vulnerability of human minds towards reckless idealism, its horrific consequences; Nazism, brutality, violence. For all the absurdism and laughter, there was so much real pain, human reality and struggle. Pathos.
And I was blown away by the acting, really. Because the theatre was small enough every detail of body language and facial expressions were easily discernible, and those, along with pacing of repartee and conversation, were incredibly well-delivered. Jean (Jasper Britton) morphs into a rhinoceros before our very eyes as his skin takes on an abnormal green, his body gradually slouches into a hump, his face becomes increasingly contorted and his voice increasingly throaty - all these over a good period of time of conversation with Berenger. At the last we see him completely naked, almost hunched to all fours - a manic, violent, obsessive creature - charging through the doors of the set and running off to join the rest of the herd...
And oh yes, who can forget Benedict Cumberhatch (Atonement, 2007; Amazing Grace, 2006):
There's something seriously, seriously attractive about men who're incredibly passionate about their art, and who can deliver a soliloquy that well! And having to fill Laurence Olivier's (who led the 1960 cast) shoes as well... tsktsk!
And to boot the evening, I went to the play with a coursemate of mine (from Germany) who really enjoys absurdist theatre/drama like I do, including -ahem- Spongebob Shwammkopf. One of the few girls on the course I get along really well with, so needless to say it was a fun night of conversation and walking around with her. Will blog more about other stuff soon!
(Martin Crimp's translation of Eugene Ionesco's Rhinoceros continues to show at the Royal Court till Nov - check it out if you can. The same cast acts in The Arsonists till December.)
