A husband tells his wife tales to sooth her, calm her sorrows, reawaken for her the beauty of the world. This new work, inspired by a Vladimir Nabokov story, is dreamy and serene. It’s difficult to follow, but aesthetically entrancing. Two screens for projections are utilised as the sole set, enlivened with shimmering, flickering abstract images: flowers, squiggles, smoke, tree tops, sunlight. The effect is hypnotic, to beneficial and detrimental results.
Frankly I found the text a little baffling at points without being sure if that was because of the speed, the often static nature of the performer, or the densely poetic lyricism of the text. That’s not to say Matthew Bamberg-Johnson wasn’t engaging and skilled in his delivery, but it was the moments when he came amongst the audience to sit in the central aisle that the text really came alive, encouraging the imagination to conjure images. Matthew Bamberg-Johnson’s interaction with the audience was effortlessly relaxed, as he leaned into his listeners with confident familiarity and warmth. Listening to his voice reverberating around the auditorium, the visual focus was on the projections or the silhouette of his silent wife, played by Genevieve Gearhart, slowly dancing behind the screen.
Gearhart is graceful and elegant, with minimal gestural movements delivered with calm precision and brief moments of bright, wonderfully animated facial expressions. Her silence produces a disconcerting intensity when she is present, often seen behind the first screen as if lost in some other world. This separation is intensified through the tender interactions between the silhouette of Gearhart and the physical body of her husband. Is she lost to him forever in her grief?
The mesmerizing nature of both performers, physically and vocally, created an overly dazzling effect when teamed with the dreamy projections; at times this became monotonous in tone and mood. Overall the production was lacking in changes in dynamic to snap the audience out of a potential stupor.
