Photo: Jeff Busby |
It’s rare these days a play
that stays with us. A play that occupies our thoughts for hours and days after
leaving the theatre. A play we wish to discuss with others. A play we wish to
see again, looking for more, looking for everything we know we missed the first
time. “Ganesh versus the Third Reich”, by the Australian Back to Back Theatre (presented at Culturgest on 14 and 15 May), is a play that did this for me.
I was very happy to be able to see a performance by Back to Back Theatre in Lisbon, because they’re one of the very few companies that have managed to turn disability into a side-issue, not the main issue, and to place their productions on different stages around the world not as the minor work of intellectually disabled actors, but simply as interesting, challenging and exciting art.
I was very happy to be able to see a performance by Back to Back Theatre in Lisbon, because they’re one of the very few companies that have managed to turn disability into a side-issue, not the main issue, and to place their productions on different stages around the world not as the minor work of intellectually disabled actors, but simply as interesting, challenging and exciting art.
The story in “Ganesh versus
the Third Reich” – one of the stories - is that of Indian elephant-headed god
Ganesh, travelling through Nazi Germany to reclaim the
swastika, an ancient Hindu symbol. The other story is that of the company itself, a kind
of autobiography, a place where reality and fiction get mixed and where they
share with us their creative process - the result both of internal questioning,
as well as of external challenges and criticism. Both are stories of power: the
power exercised by a fascist regime over its citizens (and especially, in this
case, disabeld citizens) and the power of ‘normal’ people over ‘disabled’
people (in this case, of a non-disabled theatre director over intellectually
disabled actors).
Reading the programme before the play
started, I realised that the company had struggled with the issue of cultural
appropriation and, at first, they had decided that they couldn't do this
show. Can Australian actors, who are
neither Hindu nor Jewish, create and perform a story around a Hindu god and the
Holocaust? Do they have the right to? Eventually, one reads in the programme,
their way of thinking changed and the attempted self-censorship became the main
argument to do the show. Things became even clearer when the company visited a
building in Linz, Austria, that used to house a hospice for the intellectually
disabled, people who, after the annexation of Austria, were exterminated by the
Nazis. “If we couldn’t do this play, then who could?”, director Bruce Gladwin
told us in a conversation after the show.
Photo: Candy Welz |
At the same time, in the
parallel story of the people involved in the construction of the play, many
more issues come up. What is intelligence? Who’s considered disabled? Do the
actors understand what they are doing? Can they distinguish reality from
fiction? Is this something they want to do? Are they really involved? Is this
ethical? Issues integrated in the story, but which are also part of the
questioning the company promotes and the criticism it faces. This questioning
is further intensified by the character of the manipulating director, the only
one performed by a non-disabled actor. His role, intentions and ethical
standards are openly questioned by one of the members of the cast. It’s obvious
that he thinks he’s dealing with ‘lesser’ people. His abusive attitude may be
subtle (for instance, when he softly asks one of the actors: “Have you got the
mind of a goldfish?”) or open and out of control (when he attacks the actor who
doesn’t understand the logic behind what he’s asking him to do or who simply
doesn’t want to do what he’s told). The director’s physical appearance does not
seem to be irrelevant or a mere chance in this context: aryan-looking,
constantly changing clothes on stage and exhibiting his well-trained body,
accentuating the contrast with the bodies of the other actors, challenging our
perceptions of power, ability, beauty. In the end, it is those actors that
unite and become stronger together, able to control and expel the director; we
see the beauty in their solidarity towards the fellow actor verbally and
physically abused.
Photo taken from the website of Back to Back Theatre |
And finally, a challenge
directly addressed to the audience: why are we there? What have we come to see?
A freak show? Freak porn? It is the director who looks at supposedly empty
seats asking these questions (and we are left thinking: “Are we supposed to
answer?”). He believes that disability sells, there is a market for it. For
him, Mark (the actor with the “mind of a goldfish”) is the most valuable /
expensive person on stage: he’s obviously disabled, he’s the big attraction
and, at the same time, he’s got the shortest role, the one he can handle.
I was puzzled with the fact that
intellectual disabilty and all this questioning regarding the ethics around the
work of the company had such a prominent place in the play. I hadn´t expected
it, considering the reputation of Back to Back Theatre. After all, isn’t the
whole purpose taking people’s mind away from the disabilty and ‘simply’
inviting them to see a play with professional actors? Bruce Gladwin explained,
in the conversation that took place after the show, that this is not an issue
that comes up in every production, but that it is a relevant issue in this
specific story.
Photo: Candy Welz |
It is shows of the quality of
questioning and production of “Ganesh versus the Third Reich” that can actually
have an impact on our mentality and stereotypical thinking regarding
disability, either they openly discuss it in the script or not. It takes time
and a number of close encounters, like this one, before we all get to feel more
comfortable in dealing with disability and embracing it as a different state of
normality. When the actors were asked to talk to us about their time in the
company, I couldn’t understand what Mark Deans, an actor with Down Syndrom,
answered. My natural reaction would have been to ask if his colleagues, who
spend time with him and understand him better, could help us also understand
what his answer was (it’s funny that this also happens in the play, when the
director seeks more than once help to confirm what one or other actor has told
him…). I had a quick look around the room and realised that, if I did such a
thing, it would have been considered offensive to Mark. Everyone listened to
his answer, without understanding, and stayed quiet. Maybe next time....
More on this blog
3 comments:
It is like you explain... in my mind I felt a kind of intelectual earthquake and cant stop thinking about the play. It seems like small yet powerful replicas keep bursting... revisiting the bits and pieces of the play, the mixed feelings, the doubts, the misunderstandings, and the conversation in the end... five years to produce this play... such a ride for us the spectators. Disruptive and challenging. Thank you for sharing these thoughts and insights Maria.
This is beautiful, Joaquim.... Thank you
Thank both of you for this wonderfully impressive experience and for your precious analysis on this creation...
MCP
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