A mesmerising ode to the eerie, uncanny, and oceanic
‘There are three types of men: the dead, the living, and those who go to sea,’ declares Ishmael in the opening of Plexus Polaire’s mystical production of Moby Dick. Directed by Yngvild Aspeli and performed in one act by an ensemble of actors, musicians, puppeteers, and fifty puppets, Moby Dick captures this third category of being, presenting the experience of the sea as otherworldly, terrifying, monstrous, and intensely human.
Puppetry, creating animate beings both human and not, controlled by people glimpsed in the shadows, who also move in a way that is both human and yet gracefully other, is the perfect medium for presenting an existence that is neither living nor dead. Moby Dick, in Plexus Polaire’s version, is less an epic narrative and more a fascinating, eerie exploration of what being at sea does to the body and psyche.
Whilst most of the whalers appear as puppets, it is the towering Captain Ahab who is the star of the show. Standing at about 8 feet tall, with a booming voice and surrounded by skull-masked puppeteers who evoke psychological torment, he has a mythical quality, uncanny and other than human. The puppetry of all the sailors is astonishingly skilful, particularly when the puppeteers were also agents in the action on stage. The human bodies became taunting phantoms to Ahab’s nonhuman body, with their skull faces alluding to a slippage between life and death. This confronted the audience with the human body as shadowy and other. What is so frightening about the sea, this production says, is that it presents shadows as our true essence. The sea disorientates the body and exposes the human’s obsessive cruelty. There is a core environmental message here, too, that it is dangerous to perceive ourselves as disconnected from nature. In failing to identify our own otherness with that of the sea, we destroy not just innocent animals, but ourselves, too.
Dazzling sequences came slightly at the expense of storytelling, which sometimes felt rushed or confusing. But I didn’t mind this as this Moby Dick was more an immersive, unsettling atmosphere than it was a narrative piece. Though the story was abridged, this production is not trying to replace the novel, rather it offers something compelling and provocative in its own right.
However, there were some striking moments in which non-verbal movement and sound took over from Ishmael’s narration. A moving whaling sequence was such an example, presenting the battle between small harpooning boats and a big, gentle whale. The whale’s gruesome dismemberment was depicted by a harrowing unravelling of the puppet, leaving its baby motherless.
The technical and design elements of the production worked brilliantly to enhance the effects of the puppetry. Elisabeth Holager Lund’s set, cleverly evoking both whale bones and a ship’s hull, gave the space a great depth and height, generally leaving its mechanisms bare for the audience to see. Keeping the puppeteers largely in shadow, Xavier Lescat and Vincent Loubière’s lighting was generally very dark, with high contrast focus on human subjects giving the impression of a dark expanse of the sea beyond. A highlight was a beautiful whale tail, illuminated incandescent blue, enhancing the undulating flow of the puppetry.
At times I felt there was a slight overreliance on videos of action, rather than presenting action onstage, but nevertheless David Lefard-Ruffet’s video projections did well to conjure a vivid, swirling sea. Moreau’s costume design was especially effective in enhancing the sense of being between living and dead, with flowing robes blurring the boundaries between humans, puppets, and waves. All combined, it was like watching both magic and its mechanisms. Seeing the ways the set, costumes, and puppets worked only served to enhance the effect of uncanny wonder, presenting both the supernatural and humanity of Moby Dick.
A special mention should go to the trio of fantastic musicians who sang haunting whaling songs and scored the play with live percussion, bass, and guitar, combined with pre-recorded effects (the mixing was notably accomplished, too). At time they were like foley artists, creating shimmering sound effects, and at others they infused the play with electrifying rhythmic energy. Singing dominated the production more so than dialogue, so their ethereal voices were integral to the enchanting soundscape.
In all, Moby Dick is a stunning and contemplative spectacle, a sure triumph.
Moby Dick is presented by the Barbican in association with Mime London.