The Chairs, MTC, May 7, 2000

 by Eugene Ionesco, by MTC

 at Fairfax Studio May 7 until June 3, 2000

Bookings: 136166

Reviewer: Kate Herbert

A comic routine often works on repetition. 

In his 1951 play, The Chairs, Romanian playwright, Eugene Ionesco, pushes repetition to its farcical extreme. By the end of the play, the stage is so jam-packed with chairs of all shapes and sizes, that the ancient couple cannot reach or even see each other.

Ionesco is a master of the Absurd. Although a Romanian, he wrote in French and was part of a coterie of intellectual and artists who challenged conventional forms after the Second World War in Europe.

The Chairs is gloriously anarchic and director, Douglas Horton leaps bravely into the chaos, revealing some surprising and refreshingly new interpretations of this poignant clown tale.

The Old Man and Old Woman (Paul Blackwell, Julie Forsyth), living in confusion and despair on an isolated island, are visited by an enormous crowd of dignitaries who come to hear the Old Man's message about philosophy, existence, the whole damn thing.

His message is to be delivered, not by himself, but by a celebrated Orator. The tragedy is that, when the Orator (Marg Downey) finally arrives, she speaks gibberish and the old couple have leapt to their deaths into the sea.

The pace is relentless. One hilarious moment occurs in the frantic chair moving when three versions of the old woman appear simultaneously. Another inspired choice is the brief appearance of Downey as Orator. Suffice to say, think of SBS without subtitles.

This play can only work with a clutter of detailed comic action and perfect timing. Fortunately, both actors are superbly cast as the two eccentric centenarians and both have the unmistakable look of a clown.

 Forsyth scuttles and twitches as she cossets, admires him. She calls him "poppet" and, like an indulgent mother, believes he is a genius who could have achieved anything - had he bothered.

Blackwell makes the inner world of the Old Man visible as he whines about his missed calling and fawns over his famous guests.

The excellent translation by English playwright, Martin Crimp,  maintains the comic rhythm and wordplay of the original French. Designer,  Dale Ferguson's design - a wall of doors bleeding rust, captures the seediness the farce beautifully. The production is lit stylishly by David Murray and has an unobtrusive, effective soundscape by David Chesworth.

by Kate Herbert