Clowns and Profound Stoppardian Witticisms

At noon, I met with Raymond Keane, Artistic Director of Barabbas Theatre Company, at his Dublin office. Raymond had been very gracious through email when he agreed to sit for an interview, so I knew we would have a nice conversation. He also gave some directorial advice to the performers of Songs of Joyce, and I therefore had no doubt there would be plenty to talk about.

We didn't even get to Songs of Joyce, because we spent over an hour talking about clown. Raymond specializes in clown and physical theatre, both of which I have become very interested in recently. A few months ago, I attended an amazing clown workshop at Williams with a man named Trey Lyford. Trey himself is a clown, and had a lot of wise things to say about his technique.

Okay, so first some background information on clown. This isn't just your stereotypical silly circus clown, with the big feet, crazy outfits (well, sometimes), etc. Yes, you wear a red nose-- referred to in clown as "the smallest mask in the world," but clown training is intense. It's all about developing an honest, authentic PRESENCE (the key to great acting!). You develop your own personal clown that stays with you, not so much as a character you play, but perhaps closer to your alter ego. But it's an authentic you--exaggerated, of course-- a you that is not afraid to embrace all your insecurities, your flaws, the human things about you that are just ridiculous. Your clown embraces all of your humanity in all its glory and wonder-- your "divine spark" if you will. The goal of the clown is to play, to risk, to fail, and to embrace and relish in that failure and divine play. I think it's pretty great!

So we talked a lot about all of that. Raymond trained in clown, mime, corporeal mime, tai chi, dance, etc, so he had a lot of interesting insights. He is also mostly self-taught, which is pretty inspiring. He would just go out into the street and do his thing, and learn that way. Raymond was also a hairdresser before he started doing theatre, and he talked for a while about hair as a mask. Think about it- how tied up our hair is to our identity, how we hide behind it, or change it to suit different purposes, and so on.

Although there is no separate performance tradition of Irish clown-- the predominant clown style is European clown, which is basically what Raymond teaches-- we had a very provocative discussion about the development of the Irish clown through works like Beckett's Waiting for Godot. Raymond suggested that perhaps Beckett was influenced by the American hobo clown, along with, of course, the Buster Keatons, Charlie Chaplins, and the rest. It's official- I can't escape from Beckett! I'll always be waiting...

In addition to being generally awesome, I think clown is particularly relevant to McDonagh, whose work is very influenced by Beckett. McDonagh's plays often tread the line between the silly and the serious, the mundane and profound, and many of his characters could be said to be clown-like. I'm hoping that further study of this art form will give me greater insight into his work.

In the evening, I attended a performance of Tom Stoppard's Arcadia at the Gate Theatre, which is located at the intersection between O'Connell and Parnell Street. I thought the first act was slow, but the second act was much better. I've been a little spoiled with Arcadia, having seen a recording of the Lincoln Center production, as well as a lovely production done in Agard living room at Williams. One of the major challenges in a play like Arcadia, I think, is having the actors present a strong, reserved British affect on the outside, while maintaining all the sexual energy and passion of the characters underneath. It's very easy to slip into a reserved manner that enjoys the dryness of Stoppard's wit, but loses that internal energy, and I think that's what was happening in the firs act. However, it was great to see Hugh O'Conor as Valentine (he also played Stephen Dedalus in the film Bloom), and there were certain moments where the language is just so beautiful you can't help but be moved. In one such moment, Septimus is assuaging Thomasina that she need not fear the loss of knowledge, because:

"We shed as we pick up, like travelers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You don't suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?"

Arcadia is a lot about the great pursuit of knowledge, and how that pursuit itself can be more powerful than the answers one hopes to find. As it is said at the play's end: "When we have found all the meanings and lost all the mysteries, we will be alone, on an empty shore."