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Review of The Collector: The Presence of Absence by Will Flanagan (Cork Midsummer Festival)7/8/2024 Cork Arts Centre, June 21, 2024. Reviewed by Sandra CostelloWill Flanagan stars in a one man show that offers entertainment, comedy and compassion in equal measure. Flanagan’s character is a reclusive hoarder or collector who remains mute for the entirety of the performance. He relies on his physical performance to communicate with the audience which Eddie Kay choreographs wonderfully. Flanagan moves around the stage and relates to the props around him in a very creative, endearing and unmistakeably Chaplinesque manner.
The set is beautifully put together with vintage objects such as suitcases, gramophones, chairs, a typewriter and an early projector. Flanagan’s costume is fantastically reminiscent of a travelling salesman from the early twentieth century whose wagon could comprise of the objects featured onstage. Comedy is found in everything. Flanagan clowns around, falling through the frame of a chair and then wearing that chair like a jumper. He opens a suitcase to discover a never-ending series of smaller suitcases within. He climbs into another suitcase and holds an umbrella over it when he hears the sound of rain. In this way, the sound design helps to bring about the comedy of the piece and gives Flanagan something to react against. At one point, Flanagan even types on a typewriter in perfect time to a jaunty tune. Flanagan’s circus skills are also on full display. He juggles objects and balances them on his chin. A suitcase and desk lamp have been fashioned together to make a pet companion for our protagonist. Flanagan brings the lamp-suitcase to life as he pets it and looks towards it continuously for reactions to his juggling and tricks. Hilariously, the lamp-dog always remains unimpressed by Flanagan’s various exploits. Accompanying Flanagan’s non verbal performance is an animated projection depicting the story of a cruelly treated brother and sister who decide to run away and start a new life. This story is given to us in installments throughout Flanagan’s performance. The story concludes when the brother and sister are separated at sea leaving the brother alone. This explains the protagonist’s isolation as he begins to interact with a female shaped object adorned in fairy lights. The projected story is narrated in the manner of a fairy-tale which allows this show to be suitable for children. I do wonder if the play might be more powerful without this animation, for an adult audience, however. This is mainly due to the strength of the Flanagan’s performance which does not need to be scaffolded with spoken word. Either way, this show is refreshingly sweet, entertaining and funny throughout. On another level, the show encourages us to reflect upon the experience of those who live on the fringes of society and movingly celebrates, rather than vilifies, diversity and eccentricity.
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Sandra Costello reviews Emma Martin's Night Dances.Emma Martin’s Night Dances begins with Jonas Krämer walking the stage in circles while making intense eye contact with audience members. Our attention is seized and the ear plugs provided cause us to engage with our own heart beat and senses in anticipation. There is silence as the young man begins to dance. He dances wildly, often overly extending his arms. After some minutes the band walk onstage – led by the talented Daniel Fox of Gilla Band – and begin to orchestrate an imposing techno-industrial beat upon proceedings. A large central spotlight ignites, and we are off on an invigorating journey through four vignettes/poems, each establishing the power and allure of dance. Martin informs us that Night Dances is not about something, it is for something. It is a celebration of dance in all its forms as it demonstrates dance as a channel for the body to express itself and gain freedom. It is a challenge against a culture of control and repression that has been all too evident in Ireland in the not-too-distant past. Martin admits that there is a mixture of love and rage driving this performance. The first vignette is titled “Lost Boy” and it features Jonas Krämer in a storming solo performance inspired by the story of Lucifer’s expulsion from heaven. Krämer expresses the anger of Lucifer as he stares down the audience. He is strong and independent as he dances but he is fighting something bigger than himself. He casts his rage out of his body through violent moves which warp his body and stretch him to breaking point. Dance is the vehicle through which he exorcises his demons. As we sashay into our second vignette, “God is a Girl”, there is seismic shift from the burdens of toxic masculinity towards blossoming femininity in the shape of five incredible young female dancers. Madison Watson, Beaux Barry, Tiffany Owens, Annie Jane Tarzan and Julia Merlak toss their hair and ponytails from side to side as they flip themselves majestically around the stage. They project a kind of American-cheerleader energy and are reminiscent of Donnie Darko’s ‘Sparkle Motion’. They are a breath of fresh air in all their hopeful enthusiasm and they explicitly remain unburdened from any trauma of adult repression. The third vignette is called “The Raver” and features another solo male performance from Ryan O’Neill. O’Neill’s performance takes us straight to the club or outdoor rave. He even ducks and dives as if avoiding a drunken encounter or two. He is transfixed in the music as he dances alone and perhaps under the influence of one substance or another. There is a quiet and serene beauty to his easiness as he completely surrenders to the dance and lets the music engulf him. O’Neill’s easiness is interrupted by the entrance of three haunting figures adorned in blue laced veils. The final vignette, “Red”, features Robyn Byrne, Aoife McAtamney and Jessie Thompson as they free themselves from the oppressive veils with a vigour and a hunger that women who have grown up in Ireland can all too easily understand. The veils deliberately bring to mind the Virgin Mary, almost always depicted in blue. The title of this vignette suggests a complete redirection of Irish female identity away from timid Catholic modesty to a complete and unapologetic embodiment of sexual liberty. The three women each perform superb solos and sequences together emphasising the importance of mutual support and solidarity as well as individual expression. “Red” is the most remarkable and thought-provoking of all the vignettes and a powerful note to end this show on. Along with the vibrations from the formidable sound design, this collection of dance poems will surely leave a lasting mark on those who experience it. By Marta Miniszewska. Warning: contains spoilers.Gone with the Boat is a moving tale of loss as well as the importance of family ties and values in times of crisis. Xiaoyu Chen explores these themes through different characters belonging to the same family: the mother Jin (Ge Zhaomei), the daughter Jenny (Liu Dan) and son Qing (Zhoukai Wu). Jin has lived her whole life at the village, Jenny moved to a bigger city, whereas Qing became a full-time traveller and tour guide. The change of focal points throughout the movie facilitates showing how differently can people behave in the face of a forthcoming tragedy even though their family ties remain the same. Apart from touching on the subject of terminal illness and different coping mechanisms of involved individuals, the term “home” is also explored. We may see a glimpse of how homeland can be something very different to each character, stemming from varying elements and stages of their life. On top of that, the story is wrapped around in a bewitching cinematography from Yichuan Huang full of long, wide shots exposing the role of the village’s landscape in the story. It is most apparent towards the ending when the scenery turns into a warm and hopeful vision of afterlife as we witness Jin’s send off to another reality beyond current understanding. By Marta MiniszewskaThe newest film from Nuri Bilge Ceylan - About Dry Grasses – is concerned primarily around conversation and image. In the winter Anatolian landscape, we get acquainted with a cynical and not quite pleasant art teacher Samet (Deniz Celiloğlu) whose biggest yearning is to leave the village and move to lively Istanbul. In the hopes of being able to leave for the city, he believes that doing so can solve all his problems and uncertainties. However, his life gets more complicated when a scandal breaks out which directly affects Samet and his housemate Kenan (Musab Ekici) and that pushes the protagonist more into misery. At the same time, a charming woman – Nuray (Merve Dizdar), also enters his life, which adds to the current disarray of ongoing matters. She isn’t afraid to question his beliefs and engage as the force of opposing argument in the conversation about history or equality. Through dialogue, the viewers are getting acquainted with different concepts and contradictory views but aren’t being provided with one indisputable answer, which they have to get to themselves. The main character himself is an ambiguous, morally grey person, who makes for an interesting protagonist to observe as he gradually incites more discomfort in the viewer. By Marta Miniszewska (warning: contains spoilers)Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person is a Canadian dark comedy directed by Ariane Louis-Seize. It follows Sasha (Sara Montpetit) the teenage vampire, who cannot bring herself to kill humans same as her family who’ve done so for centuries. So far, she has just used the blood packets provided by her hunting mother (Sophie Cadieux). However, one day she is propelled to leave home and try to learn to fare for herself under the guidance of an eccentric and violence-loving Denise (Noémie O'Farrell). Forced into these unfavourable circumstances but still haunted by her growing compassion, she decides to find a person who would give her consent to feed on and essentially kill them. Then, she meets Paul (Félix-Antoine Bénard) – a pessimistic teenager struggling with being accepted and happy. Both of them long for mutual understanding and being accepted for the way they are. As a result, the two form a unique connection, which contributes to making the upcoming execution of the final act even more difficult for the compassionate vampire. The film operates on paradoxes: a vampire that can’t hunt, a suicidal teenager that eventually gets turned to live forever. It also problematizes a predicament when a person is forced into being someone else while trying to remain themselves and keep to their initially practised values. It is, however, turning out to be rather optimistic in showing how two people from completely different worlds can form such an unlikely bond that enforces finding solutions together, rather than going through it all alone. by Marta MiniszewskaThe newest film of Cork-based director, Colin Hickey, delves into how a tragic event from the past can shape one’s identity in the future. We observe the journey of a young boy who has to deal with the aftermath of losing his friend in all the later stages of life. Perennial Light is divided into episodes corresponding with these stages – childhood, teenage years and adulthood. Although there is no dialogue in the film, we meet these different versions of the character in a variety of different ways. Music, live action recorded image and animated drawings are the main channels for diegetic information that viewers receive. Repeated motifs or new dramatic changes make for clear understanding that comes to mind the more we watch. Consistent piano classical music paired with picturesque views of County Cork create a very moving result of watching a story unfold in real time. It is not only however, a story about a “lost boy” trying to heal from a traumatic experience but also about the guiding presences of women that can help him find his way. What the film communicates right from the beginning is additionally how their absence can cause an internal turmoil difficult to mend on one’s own. Michele Riondino directs and stars in Palazzina LAF, a drama inspired by the real events surrounding Taranto’s Ilva steel company takeover in 1997. Riondino’s directorial debut sets an impressive standard as he aims to present multiple perspectives of workers in skilled and unskilled positions within the Italian company. Riondino himself plays Caterino, a manual worker whose job it is to clean battery coils, a kind of hard labour that poisons his lungs. Beaten down by the toil of his job and cynical of union practices, he presents as the perfect candidate for selection to be a spy amongst his co-workers on behalf of the company.
“Palazzina LAF” is the name of the dilapidated building to which skilled workers are dispatched who dare refuse demotion due to the company’s “reorganisation.” These exiled workers are known as “i reparti confino” in Italian. Caterino strategically requests to be sent to this department as a spy in order to escape his job; his work is hellish and inhumane, and he knows Palazzina LAF to be a place where workers have nothing to do. To Caterino, Palazzina LAF is a place of escape, whereas to “i reparti confino” it is in fact a prison. This sets up a definitive contrast between Caterino and the others. What Caterino cannot know due to the horrific nature of his own job, is that there is another kind of work, a type of work that can be fulfilling and an integral part of one’s identity. This is the case for the “reparti confino” who are interred within Palazzina LAF, forced to do nothing all day. Cinematographer Claudio Cofrancesco beautifully and heartbreakingly displays the painfully slow passing of time for these workers whose considerable talents are wasted. One noteworthy scene is a slowed down one which portrays Caterino walking down the corridor in a kind of daze, witnessing the inhabitants of Palazzina LAF trying to occupy themselves with banal and empty tasks around the building. Two men play table tennis with make shift paddles, two other men stamp on empty boxes, women pray in another room and one man lifts make-shift weights. Palazzina LAF is deftly shot like a prison or a psychiatric institution where its occupants struggle to keep their spirits up and their mental health in check. As workers arrive for the first time, they are framed as if a new prisoner or patient of the institution, afraid and full of dread. Despite observing the overwhelming despair in Palazzina LAF, Caterino refuses to admit a change of attitude in relation to “i reparti confino” who he publicly deems to be idle and selfish until the end. This aligns with general working class attitudes towards the exiled skilled workers that Caterino is reluctant to challenge. However, his guilt as a spy is conveyed through a magnificent scene in which he dreams of a Catholic Easter procession where he envisions himself as Judas Iscariot kissing the face of Jesus. Riondino’s performance as Caterino is authentic and unsentimental. Riondino’s character represents the very real class divisions and prejudices within the workforce that are exploited by those in power. This is a deeply personal project for Riondino who originates from Taranto. His own father worked as a manual labourer at Ilva and growing up he heard stories about the “i reparti confino” who were deemed to be lazy, entitled and worthy of punishment by the working classes. Riondino strives to consider all sides of the story for the workers at Ilva and places the burden of blame where it truly belongs, with the corrupt capitalist company directors who used and abused all their workers for their own greed. Palazzina LAF is an excellent socialist film that breaks down false attitudes and beliefs and inspires true worker solidarity. Sandra Costello Cork’s third instalment of N.I.C.E. Italian Film Festival opened to an emotive jolt with Matteo Garrone’s Io Capitano. Garrone’s previous work includes the critically acclaimed Gomorrah in 2008 and the successful Pinocchio from 2019. This film represents a different direction for the filmmaker; it is not set in Italy – as most of his films are – and there is next to no Italian to be heard in the dialogue. Io Capitano however, is entirely connected to Garrone’s home country, as it is not only the final destination within the plot of the film, but immigration continues to be an incredibly contentious and divisive topic in Italy. The film attempts to show the typical journey of migrants out of North Africa. Sensing a definite lack of empathy in Italy and Europe in relation to increased immigration, Garrone puts us in the shoes of those who are willing to face life-risking danger in the pursuit of a better life for themselves and their families. The film follows Seydou (Seydou Sarr) and Moussa (Moustapha Fall), two teenage cousins from Senegal who decide to leave their home country for Europe. The opening scenes convey a warm and colourful Dakar where Seydou lives with his large underprivileged family. Although living in poverty and in a single parent household, there is no lack of love and care in Seydou’s home. Seydou is an incredibly likeable protagonist whose devotion to his family is what gives him the strength to get through the severest of circumstances. He even chooses torture in a Libyan prison rather than subject his family to ransom demands they could not possibly afford. He later refuses to leave Tripoli without locating his cousin Moussa who was arrested in Libya. Seydou and Moussa’s maiden journey out of Senegal is besieged with exploitation and peril at every turn. Naive to the corruption of many authorities across Africa, the teenagers are given little choice but to pay their way from place to place and let themselves be exploited. At one point, one of the migrants falls off an overcrowded jeep and is left to die with little thought by the driver. Another woman dies of exhaustion while walking through the desert. Here, Paolo Carnera’s gorgeous cinematography expresses the beauty and deadliness of the desert in paradox. One of the most beautiful scenes in the film is when Seydou imagines the dying woman as his mother floating above him so that he can gently guide her onwards. Seydou repeatedly daydreams to escape his present dark circumstances. These make up some of the most stunning images in the film. We learn that the migrants are nothing but disposable bodies and a source of money to the authorities and rebels they meet along the way. This brutal exploitation is brilliantly juxtaposed with incredible moments of kindness from individuals and members of the Senegalese and larger African community in Tripoli meaning that there is an essential balance between hope and despair in the film. One example of kindness to be observed is when Seydou meets Martin in a Libyan prison whilst being tortured. Martin is a talented builder who takes Seydou under his wing when the opportunity arises to work as a slave for an estate owner. The two are quick to impress and their wealthy owner decides to free them and pay for their passage to Tripoli. Another example of kindness can be witnessed in the Senegalese community who support Seydou when he arrives in Tripoli and who are fundamental in helping him locate his cousin Moussa. The central performance of Sarr is spectacular. When Seydou is compelled to captain the rust-ridden and rickety boat to Italy in the final scenes of the film, he accepts the leadership role he was born to assume and Sarr performs his character’s untameable and courageous spirit superbly. As the migrants finally reach Italian soil, the film ends on a joyful and celebratory note with a relieved Seydou at the helm. Though presented with a happy ending, the audience is keenly aware of the hostile welcome this group is likely to receive and this powerfully serves to highlight the injustice of their potential ill-treatment. Io Capitano is a sometimes difficult to watch but crucial film for our times. by Marta Miniszewska (contains spoilers) Sleep is a South Korean feature debut of Jason Yu starring Lee Sun-kyun and Jung Yu-mi as the husband (Hyun-su) and expecting wife (Soo-jin) accordingly. It tells the story of a marriage struggling with weird occurrences happening during the night, revolving around the sleepwalking husband with no recognition of his nocturnal activity in the morning. Not only does the film delve into these odd behaviours while trying to find the cause of them happening, but it also shows how can this unwitting derangement of one spouse slowly lead to the madness of another. Although Sleep tackles serious issues such as an unknown illness, imminent threat from a loved one and a struggle to keep the marriage from falling apart, it does so under the coat of dark comedy humour. Jason Yu keeps the viewers on the edge of their seats while weaving between providing them with comedic relief from a suspenseful situation or going into tragedy, fear and even occult themes straight from the horror genre. The film is also clearly divided into a three-act structure, where the tension builds with every episode as illness’ explanations differ, and newly introduced cures don’t solve the issue. Those who got convinced the medicine provided works, could get surprised when the course of the story completely changes shortly after. The Beast has been brought by the French writer and director Bertrand Bonello, previously known for Coma (2022), Nocturama (2016) or L'Apollonide (2011). This newest piece makes the journey between different genres and conventions, all the while combining pleasure and lightness with heaviness and an inevitable premonition – a feeling of impending doom. We follow the story of Gabrielle Monier (Léa Seydoux) living in 2044, where her emotional attachment to her previous lives prevents her from living a fairly content, emotionless existence in the A.I. - controlled society. She keeps on trying to purify her DNA to get rid of painful memories and strong sensibilities, but they continue to resurface with the emergence of a mysterious Louis Lewansky (George MacKay) and his various incarnations. Feelings start to flourish between the two, doing so in completely different ways depending on the state of the world the characters meet in. The Beast not only plays with the viewer’s expectations, using generic conventions from period dramas, horror or science-fiction. It is also asking, how important it is to actually acknowledge and nurture emotions and feelings instead of succumbing to the bland existence and detachment, whilst showing how these previous experiences might shape one’s identity. |
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