A waiter pours a glass of wine for a restaurant customer. It hardly seems like a philosophical matter, but not everything is as it seems here.
This is a masterclass of clowning, comedy, physical theatre and absurdism
The set is simple: a table, arranged with cutlery on a pristine white tablecloth, with a solitary chair. There is a waiter’s station stage left and two spare chairs.
Our two performers, Bertrand Lesca and Nasi Voutsas, wander on to the stage at Summerhall. This seems unusual, as if they are about to issue a banal health and safety announcement. They seem borderline apologetic and explain the scene that is about to unfold. Is it suddenly tell, don’t show? They, somewhat hesitatingly, describe the scene, iteratively adding forewarnings of layers of complication regarding what ought to have been a straightforward premise. And, in so doing, they verbally lose the thread of the action about to ensue, confusing themselves.
They realise that it would have been preferable all along to have simply played out the scene, so they finally set about this. They now assume characters of waiter and customer, identically dressed.
The waiter pours a sample of wine, the customer approves, a glass is then to be filled, but the waiter pours too much and some is spilt on the table, to be cleaned up. The dialogue is initially delivered in deliberately stilted style, no verbal nuance to play with or build upon. But then the twist, signposted during the preamble: once the tablecloth and associated items are removed and replaced, the performers swap roles. They proceed to play out the same scene again.
And again. And again.
Each time, there is at least a subtle development in proceedings, either with regard to staging or performer’s demenour, at other times a shift. Their physicality unfolds, a swirl of exaggerated movements, stillness, confusion, stuck on a seemingly infinite time loop of repetition and variation.
But what can it all mean? The piece is open to a myriad of interpretations. Identities? Nihilism? An examination of addiction? Is it a commentary on mankind’s struggle and inevitable failure to control external events? ...or indeed understand one’s place in the universe? The invisibility or anonymity of service sector employees? A variant on Waiting For Godot? Are one or both in purgatory, iteratively washing away their mortal sins? No need to decide.
This is a masterclass of clowning, comedy, physical theatre and absurdism. Their initial dialogue, in which they interrupt, or over-explain, or finish each other’s sentences, or confuse themselves, is not only delivered with immense skill and timing, but acts as a prelude to the physicality to unfold. They have palpable chemistry, testimony to Tim Etchells’ direction, which is expertly tight, entrusting his talented cast.
We are left on the existential matter of the bill – l’addition – but this extraordinary production will live long in the memory.
