12
Mar

In the arms of the other

   Posted by: Kathe   in Performance, Puppet art

Theodora Skipitares’ new production at LaMaMa (it looks amazing) blends people and puppets in a retelling of “Medea.” Shadow puppets, rod puppets, and “realistic life-size figures operated by actors” – this last is the configuration I was drawn to for my novel, the performers in closest conjunction with their human counterparts.

I’ve blogged before about the Alma Mahler sex puppet/doll, and what strikes me as saddest about it, or her, is the sense of abjection, the total victimhood: a mute slave, made of silk and feathers, meant to bear the heavy, slippery weight of frustrated human desires. When I envisioned my Poppy troupe, Homo ludens was what I had in mind: the one who plays, with the puppets as real partners in the frolic. Constructed they may have been, but constricted, no.

Which is what I tried to demonstrate in this scene:

This night he premieres a new playlet, “Castor & Pollux,” after the Gemini sons of Leda, brothers from myth, wherein he and his new familiar, himself named from myth, enact a fraternal union of a different sort, with LaDuchessa [another puppet] as its springboard and a giggling cousin of the marchioness its foil. If few in the audience take to heart the deeper import of the piece – a defiant affirmation of affinity deeper than blood, harder than lust, stronger than any method meant to part it, sung in eerie twain to the tune of Dusan’s feet beating time on the drawing-room’s rosewood floor –

We are two, we need none other

Cloven not by wife or mother

Even a mistress cannot twist us

We’ll just share, like goodly brothers!

- the rest are amply titillated by its lithe, if louche, athletics, not least the giggling cousin of the marchioness, who for not a little time afterwards pursues the traveling pair through various drawing-rooms, until her mamma, mortified, bundles her off to a boarding-convent in Switzerland, where she relearns virtue, but never forgets her romp with the wooden man.

* * * * *

Nor should she. How often does life offer us the chance to have a romp with the wooden man?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 12th, 2008 at 12:14 pm and is filed under Performance, Puppet art. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

2 comments so far

 1 

Coincidence, the first live puppet theater I remember was “Medea” in high school or eighth grade– ewww nasty, strikingly so. There was a man (Professor somebody, I can’t recall) traveling the country doing the one-man puppet show for lit classes and assemblies.

Great writing! (as usual) ~e m

March 19th, 2008 at 9:48 pm
 2 

What a tribute to that puppeteer, that you still remember his long-ago performance. The visceral lingers!

It’s been both a surprise and a thrill, while researching/writing this book, to learn how very much alive the art of puppetry is, here, now, today. The visceral lingers. . .And thank you for the compliment.

March 20th, 2008 at 4:15 am

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