At the End of the Strings (The Rose and the Black)

Burkett's marionettes have bodies which they're not afraid to talk about or to show
HERVÉ GUAY
English translation by Deirdre Mogan

Some things are held up by only one string, others by several.  But the number isn't important.  What counts is that the string attaches, supports and binds everything together.  And, in fact, we realize that if it weren't for all those strings holding on to Ronnie Burkett's wildly intricate marionettes, the stories he tells would surely not touch us as deeply as they do.  We, the spectators, are given a port of entry into the world that unfolds at the end of the strings. 

For all intents and purposes, the senior citizens' rooming house presented to us by the puppeteer from Calgary could easily go unnoticed.  A refuge for regular old geezers and a few eccentrics, this home comes to life thanks to the magical details buried within and lovingly revealed to us by Burkett's fingers, voice and occasionally sardonic dialogues.

The protagonist, ironically named Happy, is a veteran who has never recovered from an injury sustained long ago, an injury not directly related to the war. He tries, however, to continue to look at the world through rose-coloured glasses. This is less true of those who surround him: they have also been touched, at one time or another, by grief, loss and pain, and they are struggling to come to terms with their lot.  There's an inveterate smoker, a somewhat awkward young female poet, her hippy boyfriend, a silly old bachelor, two gay partners who have seen better days, a dog, a cat and more.  As a diversion, we are presented with a cabaret devoid of colour, a world through the looking glass, where each act reveals a different way to die.

Just as in life's ups and downs, the production oscillates between rose and black.  There is a constant search for balance between the need to learn, on the one hand, how to grieve and, on the other, how to enjoy moments of happiness when they occur.  To mark the euphoria that overtakes his marionettes, Burkett makes them twirl with a supreme grace.  When they expire, the King of the Castle gently places them in a bag, kissing them and laying them to rest.

IF IT WEREN'T FOR ALL THOSE STRINGS, THE STORIES BURKETT TELLS WOULD NOT TOUCH US AS DEEPLY AS THEY DO

Physically, the performance space is defined by of a square unit, one side of which resembles a huge cabinet.  Another side displays the sequined curtain of the cabaret, while the third vaguely abstract side is used for the production's more introspective moments.  The large cast of marionettes is placed around the unit, and throughout the show, a stage manager hands them over to Burkett, assisting him as he performs all the roles.

Burkett excels in equipping the marionettes with distinctive costumes and props, giving us a visual clue for identifying the individual characters:  Lucille's cigarette, Happy's ties, the gay couple's bathrobes, Raymond's oversized glasses.  Added to these are vocal or verbal clues:  Carla's poem, Drew's cool self-confidence, the distinctive style that each cabaret performer exhibits while singing and dancing on stage. 

Special mention should be made of the Pierrot cello player, whose solo performance is a miracle of satire and technical dexterity.

More amazing still is that Burkett's marionettes are not afraid to talk about or show their bodies.  One of the most candid scenes takes place in Happy's bath, where he is not the least bit ashamed to reveal his flesh, weakened by time, or to talk about his sexuality.  This physicality contributes significantly to the humanization of these creatures made of wood and cloth.  And let's not forget that they manage to say things to each other that most human beings avoid at all costs.

On another lever, Happy  pursues a quest that is also present in Burkett's previous production Tinka's New Dress , a quest for the freedom to express ideas that society suppresses.  It is not, therefore, by chance that the emphasis is placed on sadness and death, things that we must all learn to accept.  These subjects are not exactly in style in our culture with its focus on youth and beauty.  However, in the restless mind of the puppeteer, there is a reward for those who become capable of dealing with the end of life - it is the ability to embrace, more fully, joys of every kind.  Among these many joys, we must now count the universe of Ronnie Burkett, where a rare genius for juggling details is combined with a sane humour which does not shy away from serious matters.

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