Theatre-maker Aja Marneweck dismisses heavy-handed criticism of her latest work in one of the dailies as blatant male chauvinism. “I suppose that it is expected when dealing with themes that strike at the core of a diseased patriarchal society and centuries of making and breaking the feminine,” she says.
I have to agree. There was no engagement with her work, and it was quite clear even its most basic content hadn’t even been understood. This was yet another case of challenging work arbitrarily dismissed by the television sated.
With the Zuma rape trial daily in the press it seems indispensable that we have at least one theatre space exposing the nation’s violent phallocentric subconscious through new and dangerous work.
Yet Residue has moments of grotesque humour. Central is a colossal female character – played with wonderful and contagious exuberance by Vaneshree Lingham – in a huge dress that seems to have a life of its own. The other characters, both from the past and present, emerge from under it, while video clips are projected on to her giant skirt. There is the classic footage of a woman in chiffon running through a forest – an image that immediately in this country is enough without any other reference to conger up the spectre of rape.
There is no story, but instead a series of emotional inscapes that unfold, exploring the issues of how women are constructed. In one clip, a man constantly places one overcoat after another around a woman. The suffocation of a unique and creative identity is effectively captured.
Residue is undoubtedly a gruelling and recondite piece. Much of it is wordless, using screams and sounds – an intuitive deconstructed language that communicates more effectively than the scripted parts. Marneweck comments, “I found it very interesting that I got an extremely aggressive and bad review from a male reviewer at the Argus…He called the sounds obscene.”
Marneweck uses eerily striking two-foot high puppets operated by several puppeteers, and choreographed movement and dance to tell her own version of the archetypal journey of the Handless maiden in La Selva Subterránea. The amputated hands are restored, but as part of a reconstruction of the woman’s self that alienates and even violates her. It has a nightmarish quality.
With such a tightly knit cast it seems almost unfair to single out any one performer, but Tali Cervati as the handless dancer exhibited extraordinary power.
Mention too must be made of West African musician and singer Prince Alfredo who produces a beautiful guitar accompaniment.
The Paper Body Collective who workshopped this production in France, now travel to the Dance Factory in Newtown, and then to the World Festival of Puppetry Art in Prague in June.
http://www.paperbody.co.za/Site/Home.html
