Directed by Robert Lepage
State
Theatre, Melbourne Arts Centre, Aug 4 to 12, 2012
Reviewer: Kate Herbert
Stars: **** 1/2
Online at Herald Sun on Mon Aug 6 and in print on Tues Aug 7
WHEN ROBERT LEPAGE'S SPRAWLING, THEATRICAL NARRATIVE, LIPSYNCH, begins aboard a plane from Germany
to Montreal, the audience simultaneously embarks on a 9-hour, transcontinental,
multi-lingual journey through the lives of nine characters.
During six acts, we are
voyeurs peering into the intimate worlds of these loosely connected people,
often literally observing them through windows and doors.
The transformational set
design (Jean Hazel) constantly changes locations from a Lufthansa jet to a
London train, a Nicaraguan cantina, 1940s Vienna, a film set, a BBC radio
studio and a Hamburg brothel.
The backstage mechanics
of the theatre are revealed, becoming part of the dramatic narrative as
multiple, black-clad stagehands swiftly and magically manipulate the versatile
design.
The main narrative stream
concerns German opera singer, Ada Weber (Rebecca Blankenship), who discovers
teenage prostitute, Lupe (Nuria Garcia), dead on her plane to Montreal with
baby Jeremy (Rick Miller) crying in her arms.
Other characters’ stories
branch off like tributaries, while some flow back to the main narrative and
others remain incidental.
As in previous Lepage
shows, elaborate video projections feature but, in Lipsynch, language and the
human voice, both speaking and singing, are the primary focus for the
performers as they delve into their characters’ emotional, psychological and
physical lives.
Although the dialogue is
not poetic or lyrical – in fact it is often banal – the gentle, storytelling
style that verges on melodrama and soap opera, has its own lyricism and
poignancy as well as often being hilarious.
Lipsynch is a morality
tale with flawed, ordinary people whose failed relationships, losses and loves
we witness as a passing parade until the final denouement about Lupe’s terrible
fate tells us ‘whodunnit’.
The powerful abuse the
vulnerable, the rich take advantage of the poor and men abandon women. But at
the heart of the story is the earth mother, Ada, who not only rescues Jeremy
from his dead mother’s arms, but also salvages Lupe’s heritage and reputation.
The great successes of
this production are the fascinating, cunningly directed opening scenes and the
poignant, final scenes that end with a heartbreaking, closing image that
replicates Michelangelo’s Pieta.
The audience is engaged,
amused or touched by other scenes but they are diversions, detours from the
main narrative that are less satisfying than Ada, Jeremy and Lupe’s stories.
All the performances are
masterly, with each actor not only playing a key character but also playing
smaller roles and singing.
Blankenship’s
Ada provides a warm, still heart to the story and her velvety soprano fills the
space with its pure tones.
Hans
Piesbergen plays cool German neurosurgeon, Thomas, but also provides multiple,
comical cameos, while Sarah Kemp is the damaged and powerless Sarah, a former
Manchester prostitute.
Miller
is suitably smug as young Jeremy, the aspiring filmmaker, and also as Tony
Briggs, the smarmy BBC newsreader.
Nuria
Garcia is riveting as the naïve Lupe, confused Spanish actress Maria and as Simon,
the childlike diabled boy and John Cobb is sympathetic as scruffy, Scottish
detective, Jackson.
As
ambitious singer, Marie, Frederike Bedard sings some rich Jazz numbers before
facing losing her voice.
Carlos
Belda is the sturdy, stable sound recordist, Sebastian, who confronts his past
when he returns to the Canary Islands to bury his comedian father, and Lise
Castonguay is Michelle, the fragile bookseller who scrambles to overcome her
mental illness.
It may take 9 hours, but
the journey is somehow soothing and satisfying as we make friends with these
people who are simply trying to make sense of their world, just as we do.
By Kate Herbert
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