Made for those who enjoy the post-dramatic, abstraction, and devised work
As soon as the performers in The Opposite Of Distance at Playhouse Easthad taken their final bows, they addressed the audience directly. The show, they explained, is in development and they would be grateful for any audience feedback. Audience members received pens along with slips of paper sourcing our thoughts and opinions on the previous hour.
With the understanding that The Opposite of Distance is a work-in-progress, it is full of magnificent potential. It begins as an exercise in patience. When the show opens, the audience is immediately asked to sit for many long minutes listening only to the sound of dripping water, after which a single hand emerges painstakingly from a pile of chairs, inch by inch, for what feels like an interminable amount of time. Forcing the audience into total, excruciating awareness of time is, of course, intentional. The importance of waiting becomes clear with the first line of dialogue; the speaker explains we are in a play about science. Specifically, a play about stalactites (rock formations that hang down from the ceiling of a cave) and stalagmites (rock formations that rise up from the floor of a cave). These two formations eventually meet to form a column but only after hundreds of thousands of years – the passage of time results in connection. Connection which is, of course, the opposite of distance.
Though science remains one of the more salient parts of the show, The Opposite of Distance is not straightforward. Most of the play is symbolic, the literal is few and far between. It is perhaps more accurately described as a series of moments, vignettes and movements held together by threaded themes and props. Minimalist sets, costumes and props allow the performers to create their own physical world, but props are repurposed repeatedly, to great effect. There is a moment of particular brilliance using pure light and gauze to create the experience of moving deeper into a pitch-black cave. The piece could also be experienced as poetry or collage. Music is its own character. As, confusingly, is the movie Ghost.
It is rare to see a play that is truly surprising, but when The Opposite of Distance transforms midway through into a piece about theatre and the artists living inside of it, it was genuinely unexpected. That the beating heart of the piece is theatre-making, however, comes full circle in hindsight. There are choices involving staging and technology in the play’s initial moments that have new meaning when repeated at the end.
The Opposite of Distance is created and performed by Hannah Mook, Jake Walton and Lowri Jones, members of the Paper People Theatre company. It has the distinctly intimate feel of devised work, as though the performers spent hours physically embodying a stalagmite, playing with chairs, and sharing personal audition stories. They are deeply connected to the work, each movement, look, word, and lyric feels critically intentional. The performers are equally connected with each other, as though they are living the performance in unison.
Audience members who prefer traditional narrative and dialogue may not be suited for the experience. It is made for those who enjoy the post-dramatic, abstraction and devised work. The Opposite of Distance is likely also not for audiences who want theatre “magic” that feels effortless and hides anything technical or laborious from view. In The Opposite of Distance, the labor is visible. We see the effort of the performers as they carry chairs and each other; we hear the thud as their bodies repeatedly hit the floor. The realities of theatre making are laid bare visibly and thematically.
The Opposite of Distance was, as the company explained, a “one and done” at Playhouse East. Paper People Theatre will incorporate feedback before their next production. I, for one, look forward to seeing what they do next.
Check the Paper People Theatre company website for more information.