Creative – yes. Original – my word. Captivating – not so much.
I struggled with Apologia, which is a reflection on language, interpretation and communication across boundaries.
It is a piece for selective tastes.
Apologia is a bold undertaking and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. In fact, I commend courageous theatre.
The problem for me is that it becomes an endurance test, even though it runs for only 90 minutes.
Writer, director and star, English born Australian Nicola Gunn converses with a French translator in an endeavour to transform herself into a French actress.
Photos by Gregory Lorenzutti
While she has her ideas about what she wants, the translator – Severine Magois – who we hear through large speakers, but never see, is no easy sell.
Time and again, the latter waylays the conversation, which includes inserting the complex relationship she has with her mother.
That merely serves to irritate Nicola’s character, with fits of pique seen at various junctures.
Next, we have a couple of Japanese who find themselves in Paris in the aftermath of the fire that destroyed the spire of Notre Dame cathedral in April 2019.
Portrayed by Taka Takiguchi and Yumi Umiumare, they wax eloquently in Japanese (with English surtitles) about the pros and cons of rebuilding according to traditional practices.
They may be suffering from Paris syndrome, a form of culture shock, particularly noted among Japanese tourists.
It is not as if the acting in Apologia is bad. Far from it. That is solid, although Gunn’s character’s histrionics do appear somewhat manufactured, from time to time. Think exasperation mixed with petulant child.
What really challenged me was the interminable length of the first of four conjoined pieces (the last being the appearance of a circus act, in which no words are exchanged).
It seemed to go on forever. It took up all but half of the play’s total running time and could have been dispensed with in a much, much shorter time frame.
The back and forth between Gunn and her equally opinionated translator was stretched far beyond the bearable.
Discussion, diatribe, argument, with some humorous whacks along the way. Fine. I get it, but surely less is more.
The tête-à-tête about Notre Dame’s spire was more tolerable, even though that too started to wear thin.
Then, there was a phone call between mother and daughter and its aftermath, generating a range of emotions. I found that fulfilling.
Finally, the three performers in leotards took to the stage with what appeared to be large, coloured Perspex circles in hand, creating colourful shadows on the back wall.
I may be thick, but that was totally lost on me.
In other words, I have no idea what that was meant to say or represent. I just saw it as unnecessary.
The play could readily have stopped at the end of the third stanza and, in my opinion, would have been better to have done so.
Natural sound effects are a mainstay of this production and are evocative and affecting. They serve it well.
The lighting too has its incandescent moments, although at one point a pulsating strobe really grated, its use again stretched greatly beyond acceptances.
Perhaps, like the rest of the show, it is about pushing boundaries.
So, how do I react to Apologia in totality? With a sense of frustration.
Cut the whole thing in half and I would probably have thought differently. As it is, I saw it as esoteric (fine), but highly indulgent.
It is playing at Beckett Theatre at Malthouse Theatre until 18th August, 2024.
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