Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage : The Solo Shows [1 ed.] 9781443812894, 9781443897853

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Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage: The Solo Shows By

Aristita I. Albacan

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage: The Solo Shows By Aristita I. Albacan This book first published 2016 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2016 by Aristita I. Albacan All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-9785-X ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-9785-3

TABLE OF CONTENTS

List of illustrations..................................................................................... vii Foreword .................................................................................................. viii Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 o Short Outline of International Research .............................................. 3 o The Concept of Distance in Theatre ................................................. 18 o The Remediation of Theatre ............................................................. 25 o Hypothesis and Integration of Research ........................................... 32 Chapter One ............................................................................................... 37 Subchapter 1: Robert Lepage and the Québécois Context ................... 38 1.1.1. The Québécois Theatrical Context and its Development ..... 39 1.1.2. Robert Lepage’s Formation .................................................. 46 1.1.3. The Emancipation of Québécois Theatre ............................ .49 1.1.4. Théâtre Repère and the Repère/RSVP Cycles ...................... 52 1.1.5. Ex Machina and its Relationship with the Québécois Identity .............................................................. 58 Subchapter 1.2: Robert Lepage’s Method of Creation ......................... 63 Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 72 Intermediality and Theatre 2.1. The Concept of Intermediality ...................................................... 73 2.2. Intermediality and Theatre as a Medium ...................................... 82 2.3. Intermediality and Spectatorship in Contemporary Performance . 84 2.4. The Intermediality of Robert Lepage’s Original Theatre Work .... 88 Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 90 Contemporary Spectatorship 3.1. Audience and Spectatorship in Theatre Studies ............................ 94 3.2. Spectatorship in Media Studies: The Problem of Contemporary Perception ........................................................ 105 3.3. Spectatorship in Robert Lepage’s Original Theatre Work .......... 121

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Table of Contents

Chapter Four ............................................................................................ 131 The Solo Shows o Vinci (1986) .................................................................................... 135 o Needles and Opium (1991) ............................................................. 156 o Elsinore (1995) ............................................................................... 177 o The Far Side of the Moon (2000).................................................... 205 o The Andersen Project (2005) .......................................................... 231 o Comparative conclusion regarding intermedial practice ................. 271 Conclusion ............................................................................................... 274 Annex A: Chronology of Directorial Work ............................................. 283 Annex B: Awards and Honours ............................................................... 310 Bibliography ............................................................................................ 320

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Front Cover: Robert Lepage by Claudel Huot Chapter Four: Figure 1: Vinci, untitled, 1986 by Robert Laliberté ................................. 154 Figure 2: Les Aiguilles CH13 [1990] by Claudel Huot............................ 171 Figure 3: Robert Lepage Rehearsing Elseneur, 1995 by Richard-Max Tremblay ................................................................. 192 Figure 4: Lune _1 [2000] by Sophie Grenier ........................................... 219 Figure 5: The Andersen Project [2005] by Erick Labbé .......................... 242

FOREWORD

In times of war, or political uncertainty, when thousands of innocent people are killed and other hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, across the globe worry about or fear the future, it is worth reminding ourselves, based on evidence, that theatre is a powerful tool for change. Societal, formal/ medial, in terms of values and mentality… Many phrases can be used here, none enough to define completely the potential of theatre as a medium. The emancipatory role of theatre, ostensible since its beginnings, applies in the case of Robert Lepage’s practice, too, on combined cognitive, sensorial and emotional levels, even if this influence can be observed rather obliquely. This study addresses the work of one of the most prominent theatremakers, who developed his practice starting with the mid 1980s, in direct relation to the notion of theatrical communication. A director who strived towards a meaningful relationship between auditorium and stage in relation to contemporary realities, with an aesthetic discourse that combines novel ways of theatrical communication meant to address current sensibilities and literacies. This book is a re-visitation of doctoral research undergone as a member of the International PhD Programme in Performance and Media Studies at the University of Mainz, Germany (between 2002-2006) and of the PhD thesis defended at the University of Munich (2008). I would like to thank first and foremost Prof. Dr. Christopher Balme, my PhD adviser, for his highly competent, gracious and always supportive advice throughout this process. I would, also, like to thank all members of the International PhD Programme in Mainz, whether staff or students. The environment created there, the feedback received and the stimulating ideas shared have been inspiring throughout the entire research process. I am, also, immensely grateful to the Ex Machina Company staff for providing support and access to material highly relevant to this research. Also, my gratitude extends to those who helped illustrate this publication. Their names are credited in the illustration section. And lastly, but equally important, I would like to thank my friends and family who have provided emotional support throughout this period of reconsideration and rewriting.

INTRODUCTION

The Québec based director-actor-playwright-set-designer-filmmaker Robert Lepage has imposed himself in the past more than three decades, as one of the Wunderkinds of contemporary theatre, a magician of theatre alternative, an international star whose theatre, opera and film productions are widely acclaimed at the most prestigious festivals around the world, a “cultural commodity”1 and with Ka (2005) – the mega-show premiered at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas and developed in collaboration with Cirque du Soleil2 – as the best paid theatre director in the history of 1

At a meeting with students at Université Laval in Québec-City on 9 March 2005, Robert Lepage described himself as a “cultural commodity” within the international circuit of theatre production and further commented, on the one hand, upon the freedom to dispose of impressive amounts of money, time and artistic control, essential to the development of his original productions, and, on the other hand, on the limitations that the status of “cultural commodity” and the public image implicitly engendered brought to himself as an artist. 2 According to Stéphane Baillargeon’s account in Le Devoir (2005), Ka required 265 million $ for production and another 1.5 million $ per week for the running of performances, a sum that Las Vegas as the US capital of entertainment could afford, yet at the same time a sum that represented the budget for four years of the Council of Arts and Letters of Québec, the main funding body for contemporary/experimental theatrical productions in Québec. The journalist rightfully observes that even Hollywood film productions rarely have such a budget and notes that the show was conceived as a sort of stage 3D “derivation” of the special effects typical of Hollywood blockbusters like The Matrix (1999) and The Hero (1993). As the most ambitious project of Cirque du Soleil to that point Ka, employed 158 technicians and 75 acrobats, and the seating was designed to accommodate 11.000 spectators. The set designer appointed to work with Robert Lepage and Cirque du Soleil was Mark Fisher, a British architect famous for creating unique set-designs for rock and/or pop mega-star concerts, for artists such as: Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, U2, and Elton John. According to Baillargeon, one of the main ideas behind Ka’s design was to conceive a space that would provide audiences with a new and uncanny perspective upon viewing. A unique mechanical stage world was created, buried in a deep pit (of tens of meters), designed to multiply the apparition of floating platforms and other dramatic accessories and to maximize the impact in terms of spectatorial experience. Lepage’s fee was 2 million $. This puts the Québécois director in the position of the best-paid theatre

2

Introduction

Western stage production. The accolades for Lepage, however, do not stop here. 3 Part of the reason the director has acquired the status of a unique theatre-maker on a par with Robert Wilson or Peter Brook is that, after his international breakthrough with The Trilogy of Dragons (1984), the Québec based director has quickly become a favorite of theatre critics and scholars over the world. His theatre and/or film productions made and still make, to this day, the subject of intense and inspiring cultural critique and debate. Whilst cultural journalists from different parts of the world hailed or dismissed with passion each and every new production by Lepage, responding to their formal novelty, scholarly studies strived to find a conceptual framework able to define the complexity and novelty of Lepage’s artistic undertaking. Thus, one can safely assert that the director’s international profile as a “theatre maverick” and “Renaissance artist,”4 has been construed both through his own practice and the wide range of critical responses. However, irrespective of the aspect of the director’s practice that made the object of academic scrutiny, a recurrent fascination with the formal novelty of his approach imbued most, if not all critical considerations devoted to his work.5 A persistent appreciation of Lepage’s ability to tackle one of the most controversial and sensitive issues within contemporary culture – that is visuality – filters through throughout the existing body of scholarship. Challenging cultural assumptions and conventions regarding the construction of the theatrical image, building, in each of his performances, self-reflexive meta-narratives related to the medium of theatre and consistently attempting to break previously established aesthetic and medial boundaries of theatrical representation, in the attempt to widen its

director in the history of theatre, according to publicly accessible accounts so far (Baillargeon 2005). 3 For more details see Appendix B. 4 Several critics and scholars attempting to portray Lepage as a complex artist, interested in arts and sciences and their possible combination on stage, have recurrently used the term “Renaissance artist.” The director himself seems to favor such a label/definition, as he declared numerous times throughout his career. The diversity of his artistic and intellectual preoccupations and the multiplicity of stimuli used in his theatre-practice, including non-dramatic and non-fictional, or literary, speak of this tendency. 5 For a list of the main studies and articles that cover Lepage’s theatrical work, see Bibliography.

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horizons, were and (still) are acknowledged as quintessential for the director’s particular approach and signature. As implied above, complexity and hybridity lie at all levels in Lepage’s process, starting with the very moment of inception until its end several years later. Consequently and in direct relation to the hybrid medial, narrative, and/or cultural complexity of his work, critical frameworks within the existing body of research vary in focus from interculturality, to intermediality, to the development of meta-narrative strategies or strategies of “writing directly-on-stage” (écriture scénique), etc. One could assert that, since Lepage’s international breakthrough (in 1984), academic studies strive to discuss the work from a conceptual perspective that (implicitly) acknowledged the impact on audiences, whether specialized – i.e. cultural journalists, scholars, practitioners –, or non-specialized spectators from various parts of the world. Moreover, it is generally agreed – albeit in most cases obliquely rather than explicitly – that what is defined in this study as Lepage’s intermedial directorial approach is one of the main, if not the main reason for the significant impact of his theatre in diverse cultural contexts in recent decades.

Short Outline of International Research As suggested above, the existing body of research on Lepage’s theatre is extensive and diverse in terms of frameworks. The intention here is to outline the main directions of study undertaken in the past three decades, in order to identify a range of recurrent themes in academic analysis and to link them to the scope of the present research. For this purpose, studies by: Chantal Hébert and Irène Perelli-Contos, Ludovic Fouquet, Aleksandar Dundjerovic, Natalie Rewa, Marta Dvorak, James Bunzli, and Christopher Balme, will be drawn upon. Chantal Hébert and Irène Perelli-Contos performed probably the most extensive and thorough investigation of Robert Lepage’s theatre, highlighting its critical impact upon the development of contemporary theatrical culture in Québec and its further recognition abroad. Their studies6 monitored throughout the years the main developments in Lepage’s artistic process, discussing many of the theatre-maker’s original creations, at different stages of their development, as works-in-progress. Based on direct access to the various stages of several of the director’s creative processes, as well as on the possibility to observe closely the local 6

A detailed account of each study exceeds the purposes of the present outline. For a list of Hébert and Perelli-Contos’ main work on Lepage see Bibliography.

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Introduction

audience response, their research is of inestimable value for Lepagean studies. The authors define the director as a “unique faiseur d’images”7 and as the most successful representative of “théâtre de recherché” in Québec – a new theatre strand pertaining to the local scene and arising in mid 1980s.8 According to the scholars, Lepage’s theatre was a major instrument in redefining theatricality “par la création d’un langage théâtral différent, imagé et polysémique” (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2000-01, 65)9. Furthermore, through his substantial contribution to the development of what scholars termed as “écriture scénique,” the “théâtre de recherché” in Québec can now be described as one of the revolutionary moments in Western theatre practice in the past decades. According to the authors, the term “écriture scénique” indicates that: L]e travail de composition s’effectue d’abord et avant tout dans l’espace scénique. […] Cette écriture scénique consiste en un assemblage, un brassage ou un bricolage d’objets, de paroles, de musiques, de sons, d’éclairages, de textes, de gestes, de mouvements, d’appareils technologiques, d’écrans, etc., bref, d’éléments disparates et hétérogènes qui s’offrent comme des ressources sensibles potentiellement exploitables tout au long de la création théâtrale. La combinaison, recombinaison, le déplacement, le jeu de ces éléments permets la constitution de la matière ou texte spectaculaire, laquelle tient précisément dans le rapport intime que ces matériaux ou éléments scéniques établissent entre eux et avec l’espace théâtral. Le syntagme écriture scénique rappelle d’une autre part, le caractère inévitablement éphémère du théâtre comme art vivant, précisément en ce qu’il est dynamique et non pas statique, processus et non pas aboutissement. Ainsi, c’est en tant que système vivant que nous

7

In English: “unique image-creator” (author's translation). In English: “theatre of research” (author’s trans.). The new strand is interpreted as the specifically Québécois version of a wider trend in contemporary practice: the theatre of image. Authors cited consider that the Québec version distinguishes itself as a practice with intensive focus on the hybridization between theoretical enquiry and practical experimentation. The notion of experimentation translates here into an engagement with all the elements that could potentially enter a stage configuration, and is geared towards the systematic innovation of the theatrical language, based on subverting the established aesthetic conventions and artistic practices of the time (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2001, 10). One could assert that this particular approach towards theatre making has methodological similarities with practice-as-research/artistic research practices increasingly widespreading in the UK and Western Europe in the past decade. 9 In English: “through the creation of a theatrical language that is different, image based and polysemic” (author's trans.). 8

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proposons d’examiner cette écriture scénique (Hébert and PerelliContos 2001, 9, emphasis in original).10

In their book-length study La Face cachée du théâtre de l’image (2001), scholars aim to discuss the novel and “revolutionary” nature of the above mentioned Québec based phenomenon by defining it as a theatre of complexity. In doing so, they propose as an exemplary model of “théâtre de recherché” and use, as a detailed case study, Vinci (1986) – the performance generally acknowledged by scholars and by Lepage himself, at the time, as the director’s artistic credo. According to Hébert and Perelli-Contos, Lepage’s mise-en-scene strategies challenged the mainstream local theatre practice, predominantly naturalistic, both in terms of production and representation. By integrating the spectator in the creative process, Lepage’s theatre succeeded in altering quasi-traditional habitudes of spectatorship relying on passivity and potentially un-critical reception of the stage discourse. Moreover, scholars postulate that the most significant change that occurred in terms of spectatorship, at an individual level, took place mainly through a dynamic transformation of vision. Hébert and Perelli-Contos proposed as analytical tools for Vinci: (a) the dialogic principle, in terms of content, defined as the paradoxical interrelation of autonomy and interdependence in theatre between reality (“la logique rationelle11”) and fictionality (“la logique imaginative12”); (b) the hologramatic principle, in terms of structure and the organizational complexity of the work, where almost any element or scene of the performance contained in itself the whole performance and could either reproduce or be used as a source for reproducing/recreating the whole; and (c) the recursive principle, in terms of impact and reception, based on a 10

In English: “The ‘composition’ work is done first and foremost on stage. […] This scenic writing consists of an assembly, a patchwork, a ‘montage’ of objects, words, music, sound, lighting, text, gestures, movements, technological devices, screens, etc. In sum, short, disparate and heterogeneous elements that exist as potentially exploitable throughout the theatrical creation, and are sensitive resources. The combination, recombination, moving around and playing with these elements allow the formation of performance material/performance text constituted precisely through the intimate relationship that the materials or scenic elements establish between themselves and with the theatrical space. The term scenic writing reminds us of the inevitably ephemeral nature of theatre as art, precisely because it is dynamic and not static, process and not outcome. Thus it is as a living system that we propose to examine this type of scenic writing” (author’s trans.). 11 In English: “the rational logic” (author’s trans.). 12 In English: “the imaginative logic” (author’s trans.).

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Introduction

loop circuit of quasi-continuous interaction between the different elements of the performance, including the audience as feedback providers. In relation to the focus of the present study, one important aspect of Hebert and Perelli-Contos’ findings is the acknowledgement of a dynamic involvement of the spectator in the creative process, both at the level of production and reception. According to the authors, the agency of the spectator was significantly enhanced by the unexpected strategies of vision proposed by the mise-en-scene. The cognitive aspects pertaining to the “théâtre de recherché” – whose aim was, amongst others, to extend its explorative nature at the spectators’ level and stimulate their intellectual and creative involvement – were accomplished mainly through the transformative aspect of vision (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2001, 11). A further parallel drawn to Augusto Boal’s theorization of agency in spectatorship lead Hébert and Perelli-Contos to go as far as to (over)enthusiastically propose the replacement of the term spectator, in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre work, with the Boalian term “specta(c)tor,” to highlight the seminal importance of the changes that occurred in terms of spectatorial involvement. However, even though a substantial change in spectatorship is indubitable and, actually, constitutes one of the key foci of the present research, the term borrowed from Boal is, I suggest, misleading in this context.13 Hébert and Perelli-Contos’ approach towards discussing Lepage’s theatre, albeit interdisciplinary in nature and acknowledging the occurrence of specific, key moments of multi-sensoriality in spectatorial experience, devotes little space to an in-depth discussion of the formal aspects of the media used by Lepage in such varied and complex ways within in each performance, or to the perceptual consequences of such uses in terms of spectatorship. Consequently, the approach proposed by the scholars provides a limiting account of what exactly constitutes the novelty and the uniqueness of the theatre that is observed on stage, in terms of spectatorship. Hybridization taking place between different “elements of the performance”14 is noted several times as a recurrent and important strategy in Lepagean practice, but the combination of semiotic and cognitive, positivistic assertions regarding the changes in perception that the authors propose proves, in this particular instance, a limiting 13

For a clarification of reasons and an in-depth discussion of the matter see Conclusion, pp 294-96. 14 Throughout their entire body of research on Lepage, the various media discussed are interpreted only as “ingredients” of performance (i.e. transparent transmitters of content). Consequently, formal medial differences are not called into question in terms of their impact on perception.

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framework for understanding the particularities of spectatorial experience. Moreover, although multi-sensoriality is considered the dominant attribute of the experience – “ce théâtre, créateur d’images multidimensionnelles, est en train de bouleverser le régime de vision du spectateur” (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2000-01, 66)15 – the analytical focus remains on the alteration of the regime of vision, overlooking the other senses involved in perception within the situation of live performance. The authors conclude that the novelty of this type of theatre originated in Québec, that has Lepage as a “flagship” director, is mainly established by its ability to determine a new hegemony of vision, thus definitively displacing the long lasting/imperialistic logo-centrism, key to naturalistic drama. Ludovic Fouquet16 dedicates an extensive doctoral dissertation to Lepage’s theatre practice: De la boite à l’écran, le langage scénique de Robert Lepage (2004), in which he offers a thoroughly documented and minutely detailed account of the Lepagean scenic apparatus, with its developments from the early beginnings, in 1979, until 2001. The “deployment of new technologies” in the process of theatrical production and representation and the enquiry of the ways in which the “new technologies” influence the director’s practice in matters of representation and symbolic meaning are Fouquet’s main foci. The scholar defines Lepage’s theatre as a work situated under the sign of perpetual innovation and transformation and, therefore, significantly contributing to an enlargement of the “territory of theatre,” and to the development of “new forms of artistic expression”17 via an innovative integration of various media (i.e. photography, cinema, video, music, etc.) within live performance. Fouquet considers that, born through the free-play of improvisation, collective creation and the recurrent, internalized use of the notion of “marionette” regarding the condition of the actor within a multimedial stage environment seen as an actualization of the Platonic cave, 15

In English: “this theatre, creating multi-dimensional images, is about to shake the spectator's established system of vision” (author's trans.). 16 Fouquet published, in book format, the key findings of his doctoral research, alongside substantial visual documentation (pictures taken while observing Lepage’s creative process, and in the situation of live performance, for several performances) in Robert Lepage: Horizon en images (2005) (see further details in Bibliography). For the purposes of this study, however, Fouquet’a doctoral thesis offers more useful insight. 17 The phrases “forms of artistic expression” and “new technologies” tend to bear similar meanings in Fouquet’s thesis, and they are used accordingly, in discussing his findings. I interpret them both as standing for the term “media.” However, since there is no particular media theory framework proposed by the dissertation, or any explicit media definition, I chose to use the author's terms, for accuracy.

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Introduction

Lepage’s theatre becomes – as with Hébert and Perelli-Contos – a new and significant development in the contemporary strand of the theatre of image. In Fouquet’s opinion, Lepage’s theatre blends tradition and modernity into a new type of theatrical narrativity, which makes use of stunning theatrical imagery as a stimulating interface between performance and the spectator. An extensive (and quite useful) account of the technical details of the scenic apparatus in relation to the mise-enscene is provided. The description of the ways in which “new technologies” are ostensibly integrated within the performance framework, a thorough look “behind the scenes,” at the scenic apparatus – including a detailed account of the screen set-up and its functions (pragmatic and symbolic) within the economy of various performances –, and a perceptive account of the process of collective creation, described as favoring chaos and crossovers of all kinds in order to generate striking theatrical imagery and construct unexpected meanings that intentionally challenge spectators both in terms of cognitive and aesthetic involvement,18 add significant value to Fouquet’s research. However, a mainly historiographical and rather general discussion of media theory and the lack of in-depth analysis19 of the formal differences between different medial elements integrated in performance, or of the consequences engendered in terms of spectatorship, tends to limit the scope of Fouquet’s highly valuable study, at least in relation to the topic of the present book. Nevertheless, several notable and highly perceptive observations pertaining to effects of shock, displacement and the alternation of distance in terms of spectatorial experience are made throughout the study, such as the following: Malgré l’utilisation du gros-plan, malgré le recours à des images jouant de la caméra objective- plongée dans une conscience-, ou à du matériel d’amplification sonore permettant la proximité (le HF), le public 18 Fouquet describes and, then, discusses the collective creation of The Geometry of Miracles (1998), in its second stage of development from the start of the creative process to the moment of official public representation in Québec-City. 19 General statements such as: the Lepagean practice is most of all a “practice of exploration based on the developments of the ‘videosphere’” (Fouquet 2002, 15) (author’s trans.) are frequently offered by the dissertation, but no conceptual framework related to the use of media within the creative practice, or an in-depth discussion of the medial terms used within the context of analysis are provided. Instead, a succinct historical outline of the development of visual technologies of reproduction that influenced the development of theatre, throughout the twentieth century, hints at the (potentially) pervasive impact upon Lepage’s creative approach, with no further sustained references to any media or visuality theory.

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expérimente aussi une distance obligée avec le plateau, puisqu’il est invité a suivre diverses information simultanément mais de natures (matérielles, temporelles) et de registres différents. L’évolution de l’image scénique au XXe siècle témoigne de l’importance accrue du regard du public, convoqué afin de réunir les informations diverses, littéralement les déchiffrer, puis les analyser avant de les interpréter, en relation avec l’ensemble de la proposition scénique. Bien souvent, la référence se fait sous le signe de la métaphore, de la suggestion plastique, sensorielle plus que précisément anecdotique, car c’est aussi l’imaginaire du public qui est convoqué. […] Le public est ébloui de la disproportion entre les éléments convoqués sur scène et l’impact poétique final de l’image scénique composée, une image qui suppose observation et interprétation dans un même élan. Le public voit et il se ‘voit voir’, ou plutôt il a la conscience de sa vision. Le public n’est pas hypnotisé, mais capté à force d’implication et de révélations (Fouquet 2002, 9-10).20

Such valuable assertions remain, alas, not further integrated within the overall findings. As with Hébert and Perelli-Contos research, a similar accent is put on the acknowledgement of enhanced spectatorial involvement – through the upsetting/challenging of the regime of vision – and provides a similarly implied conclusion: in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre, there is a definite primacy of the visual which, consequently, brings significant changes in spectatorship and provides an adequate explanation for the stunning novelty of the performances.

20 In English: “Despite of the use of close-up and of images from the camera, playing the objective plunge into consciousness, or of the Hi-Fi sound amplification system stimulating the sensation of proximity, the public experiences a distance necessary in relation to the stage, as they are invited to follow simultaneously different types of information, of material and temporal nature, and on different registers. The evolution of the scenic image in the twentieth century reflects the increased importance of the eye of the audience, called in to put together diverse information, to decipher, then analyse and interpret them in relation to the ensemble of the proposal on stage. Often references are under the sign of metaphor, they are visual suggestions, sensory more than anecdotal, because it is the imagination of the public that is invited. [...] The public is dazzled by the disproportion between the elements called on stage and the final, poetic impact of the scenic image composed on stage, an image that requires observation and interpretation to the same degree. The audience see and they see themselves seeing, or rather become conscious of their own act of seeing. The audience are not hypnotized, but captivated by their own involvement and revelations” (author’s trans.).

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Introduction

Aleksandar Dundjerovic’s The Cinema of Robert Lepage: the Poetics of Memory (2003)21 is the first study to examine, in interrelation, Lepage’s creative methods in film and theatre, and connect them to an analysis of the socio-cultural context in Québec. The scholar defines Lepage as a multi-disciplinary “Renaissance artist” and pleads for the necessity of an interdisciplinary reading, based on what he observes to be an organic interconnection between film and theatre practice: Lepage thinks about theatre in a cinematic way: based on a Québécois tradition of collectively creating ´text` for theatre and dance performance, his theatre practice is thus fundamental to his creation of film narratives. Thematically and stylistically, his films [and theatre productions] reflect the concerns and preoccupations that permeated much of the 1990s: shifts in social, individual and political boundaries and borders; conflicts between the personal and the collective, and the national and the global; the phenomenon of creative expression through a hybrid of arts, culture and new technology (particularly the use of internet and digital systems (Dundjerovic 2003, 1).

According to the scholar, the Québécois theatre director‘s main interest is in telling stories, to an international audience, “about the relationships between personal and collective identity, the social centre and its periphery, past and present, reality, memory, truth and myth” (2003, 2). Underlining the research/explorative aspect of Lepage’s film process, an aspect acknowledged as functioning to an even greater extent in his theatre practice, Dundjerovic observes that: Lepage is an important auteur not only because of the quality of his films, but also because of the manner in which he works. […] He works as a renaissance artist, freely engaging with other art forms essential to his selfexpression and unafraid to enter into group collaboration where art is produced in the workshop (2003, 5).

21

Dundjerovic’s study engages with notions of interculturality and “new auteurism“ operating in Lepage’s films. Prior to the book’s publication, Dundjerovic had urdergone doctoral research on Robert Lepage’s theatre, at Royal Holloway University (UK). Expanding on that particular research, the scholar published further: The Theatricality of Robert Lepage (2007) and Robert Lepage – Routledge Performance Practitioners (2009) (see Bibliography for further details). The key arguments of the scholarly analysis, however, most useful in relation to the foci of the present study are already presented in the study outlined by the present survey.

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Beside the focus on the cinematic aspects of the creative process, Dundjerovic’s findings remain important as they highlight Lepage’s creative processes in film and theatre, based as they are on an adaptation of the Repère/RSVP Cycles22 and considered within the context of the contemporary culture in Québec. Dundjerovic draws a perceptive outline of the historical and cultural background of the Québécois theatre in the 1970s and 1980s,23 the period of artistic formation for Lepage, which, in interconnection with the director’s bi-cultural upbringing, are offered as explanation for Lepage’s consistent engagement with the affirmation/discussion of the Québécois identity, both in national and international contexts. The study also provides a detailed account of the Repère/RSVP process,24 with special focus on the ways in which the methodology contributed to the development of Lepage’s own creative approach. The research/explorative aspects of the director’s medial work and the focus on hybridization strategies, using film or theatre as framing media, are considered both as informed by multicultural formation and the ongoing search for an adequate response to the perceived needs and expectations of Western audience. According to the scholar, Lepage uses fundamentally Québécois stories, yet he develops an original, artistic language able to communicate such narratives to an international audience “through influences taken from popular references: cinema, rock concerts, television, visual and physical imagery, intercultural and interdisciplinary arts, and multi-lingualism” (2003, 16). Research upon issues of multiculturalism in Lepage’s theatre has been developed in numerous studies out of which Natalie Rewa’s “Clichés of ethnicity subverted: Robert Lepage’s La Trilogie de Dragons” (1990) and Marta Dvorak’s “Représentations recéntes des Sept branches de la rivière Ota et d’Elseneur de Robert Lepage” (1997) stand out for the purpose of the present survey. Although the issue might appear secondary or even farfetched in relation to the present foci, its importance for the scholarly body 22

The RSVP Cycles, developed by the San Francisco based choreographer Ann Halprin and architect Lawrence Halprin in the late 1960s, were “imported” to Québec by Jacques Lessard (artistic director of Théâtre Repère) who further adapted them into the Repère Cycles. The Repère Cycles, in their turn, influenced substantially Lepage’s own creative approach, particularly at the beginnings of his national and international career. For a detailed account and discussion of both methods see Chapter 1 section 1.1.4 of the present study. 23 The study also contains a valuable description of the social and political development of the Québécois society after World War Two, which informs Chapter 1, sections 1.1.1 and 1.1.2 of in the present study. 24 The scholar provides a detailed discussion of the method in the first chapter: “Film Narrative as Myth and Memory” (pp. 9-30).

12

Introduction

of research on Robert Lepage’s theatre is not to be overlooked as it brings to the forefront a “cultural studies” dimension that reflects upon questions of language and ethnic affiliation, a dimension considered central to the development of the contemporary Québécois theatrical culture and of the artist himself. Thus, it becomes apparent that the strategies employed by Robert Lepage in relation to the issue of multiculturalism constituted a radical departure from the recently established (at the time), yet highly influential local theatrical tradition, and aimed to look beyond the restricting local framework.25 Natalie Rewa sustains that the Trilogy of Dragons is “a performance of cultures in the theatre” (1990, 159) that “enacts confrontation between ethnicities in fundamentally non-linguistic ways” (149) and maintains that the significance of Lepage’s mise-en-scene “lies in the way in which he employs cultural stereotypes both as a method of characterization and a way of subverting the audience’s expectations of ethnicity” (1990, 149). Multiculturalism is, therefore, staged through a very specific attitude towards theatre-making, using everyday objects as resources and capitalizing on theatre’s possibilities of provoking imaginative associations for spectators (1990, 152). According to Rewa, Lepage’s work constitutes a radical departure from traditional explorations of cultural communities and an appropriation of cultural stereotypes into a new Québécois context (1990, 149). Marta Dvorak, on the other hand, maintains that, since the beginnings of his (widely acclaimed) international career, Lepage made, through the intercultural nature of his theatre, both a political declaration and an affirmation of artistic principles: Lepage a toujours choisi de mettre en avant l’interaction des cultures en créant des productions multilingues. Vu la susceptibilité Québec en ce qui concerne l’infiltration de l’anglais dans sa langue, le ‘patriotisme de Robert Lepage a souvent été mis en doute. […] Son recours à un texte multilingue qui reste ouvert, qui garde tous les signes d’interaction linguistique et culturelle, est en effet une déclaration politique aussi bien qu’une déclaration des principes artistiques (1997, 139-40).26 25

It is generally agreed by scholars that Michel Tremblay’s masterpiece play Les belles soeurs (1968), in which the local idiom was used for the first time, constitutes a milestone in the history of Québec theatre. At the time of its initial production, the play was declared a manifesto for national emancipation and the affirmation of a specific Québécois identity. In English: “Lepage has always chosen to highlight the interaction of cultures by creating multi-lingual productions. Given the susceptibility of the Québécois culture regarding the infiltration of English in its own language, Robert Lepage’s ‘patriotism’ has often been called into question. […] His use of multi-lingual texts that remain open and maintain all the signs of linguistic and cultural interaction is,

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

13

According to Dvorak, Lepage's work never ceases to question the traditional opposition between the Anglophone and the Francophone cultures inside Québec as well as to provocatively account for linguistic and cultural differences in relation to other cultures outside the province. It does so through: (1) the constant usage of subtitles27 – developed as a medium integrated in the always multi-lingual productions, (2) the staging, with extra-linguistic means, predominantly visual, of stories based on widely spread cultural conventions and clichés, and (3) the omnipresence of multi-cultural themes throughout the entire theatrical creation. To a multiplicity of languages and cultures a multiplicity of forms of artistic expression is attached and, very often, the choice of a multinational cast. Dvorak also usefully acknowledges that the different layers present within the construction of meaning discussed above require and stimulate the spectator’s active rational and imaginative participation. James Bunzli’s study “The Geography of Creation: Décalage as Impulse, Process, and Outcome in the Theatre of Robert Lepage” (1999) proposes the notion of décalage28 as a key concept for the development of an interdisciplinary framework for Lepage’s theatre. The scholar considers that: At the heart of Lepage’s modus operandi is a concept that combines autobiography, coincidence and paradox, and the performance moment. It is a way of working, thinking, living, which gives Lepage’s work a relentless indeterminacy and a dynamic, unique, imagistic inner life-even in fact, a political statement as well as a declaration of artistic principle” (author’s trans.). 27 According to Dvorak, Lepage is more than aware of the inherent translation problems related to the use of subtitles, yet he compensates the unavoidable slippages and inaccuracies by attempting to transgress the limits imposed by such translations through a reliance on enhanced visuality, as part of the mise-en-scene strategy, whereby well-known cultural clichés are inserted within the spoken passages of the performance. 28 The term “décalage” brings in several perceptual connotations out of which I would like to underline the temporal, as well as the spatial. Both connect to a certain gap in perception developed as a result of a significant change of parameters in spectatorship. The impression of “décalage” in perception tends to occur frequently in the act of spectatorship, especially starting with modernity, and it is present to an even greater extent in contemporaneity, in relation to technologies of reproduction and their employment in artistic contexts. The overall aim of such effects is that they offer the impression to bring closer (spatially and temporally) objects or sensations considered as situated at distance. The notion of “décalage” relates also to the concept of remediation discussed further in this chapter (pp. 25-32).

14

Introduction in (because of) the work’s chronic ‘unfinished’ state. That concept, décalage, first surfaced in Vinci: ’Leonardo da Vinci wrote from ze right to ze left, like in a mirror. Zis leaves the reader with a strange feeling of décalagen. […] Leonardo da Vinci could not bear ze human suffering, and yet he invented war machines. Zis leaves the reader reeling with a strange feeling of décalage, a feeling of décalage’ (Lepage: 1986) (Bunzli 1999, 84, original emphasis). 29

In Bunzli’s opinion, each Lepagean performance “responds to a different professional and personal, often practical impulse on the part of the creator” (1999, 81). Therefore, productions range widely in style and subject matter and, by giving preference to the process rather than outcome, the mise-en-scene allows the creative process to become an end in itself (1999, 82). The framing term of décalage is borrowed from the artist himself and it means, in this instance, displacement. Whether this is linguistic, through the use of several languages within the same performance, and/or extra-linguistic – i.e. cultural, visual, medial or behavioral –, it always has a particular impact in terms of sensorial perception. Lepage’s blind narrator in Vinci talks about “a feeling of décalage” that occurs as an effect in perception, irrespective of the nature of the source that provides the effect. The discourse, in itself, engenders ambiguity and indeterminacy. Therefore, a certain unsettling of perceptual habitudes is brought to the forefront of spectatorial experience and highlighted for the spectator’s consideration throughout the experience. Bunzli states that: For Robert Lepage, décalage is the main impulse, the principle mode of working, and a major of his production, both onstage and in the audience. It is an acknowledgement of gaps, indeterminacies; it is the way of working that trades on impulse, intuition, and broad creative freedom; it results in a theatre of simultaneity and juxtaposition in which actor, image, ‘text,’ and audience are brought into a dialogue, a questioning, and an active co-constitutive role. […] The process, with its focus on improvisation and indeterminacy, combines the narrative and the theatrical act, and thrives on manipulations of time/space, images and actors, icons and metaphors, peppered with disarming technological intrusions, and laced with the danger and possibility of questions without answers. Finally (and throughout) the role offered to the audience permits the performance to reinvent itself – and the very medium it occupies – on an ongoing basis (1999, 89-90).

29

The italicized quote used by Bunzli belongs to the unpublished manuscript of Vinci.

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

15

The “feeling of décalage” does not alienate audiences, observes Bunzli. It rather unsettles spectatorial habitudes and stimulates an enhanced participation to the creation of meaning (1999, 95). Furthermore, the scholar acknowledges that to offer the audience a co-constitutive role in the performance is not a new strategy in theatre. However, the creation of “a bath of sensations, ideas and emotions” through a set of “décalages” tends to stimulate spectatorship “on an intuitive and emotional level, rather than an intellectual one” (1999, 97) and this, in particular, constitutes a novel aspect proposed by Lepage’s practice, as the scholar pertinently observes and the theatre director, indirectly yet provocatively, suggests through the voice of the blind Narrator in Vinci. The director himself devotes little space in performance to develop further this interdisciplinary argument, in spite of its relevance for his own creative process overall, thus maintaining an open space for suggestion and multiple interpretations. Bunzli, also, devotes limited space to the further discussion of the differences in perception engendered by the use of various media in Vinci. Nevertheless, the notion of décalage as a key tool in the performance making process, relates to concepts considered central to this study. Thus, the “feeling of décalage,” in fact stimulated by what will be discussed throughout this book as a set of intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene proposed by Lepage, translates, in terms of perception, into an alteration of distance in spectatorship. The last stop of this survey, but by far not the least important, is constituted by the research undergone by Christopher Balme. In “Robert Lepage un die Zukunft des Theaters in Medienzeitalter” (1999) the scholar introduces for the first time the concept of intermediality in relation to Robert Lepage’s theatre. The study uses Lepage’s original performance Seven Streams of River Ota (1995) as a key example to discuss the use of intermedial strategies in Western contemporary theatre. Balme positions Lepage in a Brechtian tradition, of transferring various aesthetic media conventions into the framing medium of theatre,30 and underlines that Lepage’s intermedial approach relates openly to the multiple medial competencies of contemporary audiences. The scholar maintains that the director develops clear intermedial strategies in all his theatre productions 30 According to Balme, Brecht uses in his plays aesthetic conventions belonging to literature, as well as other medial elements, but in his theoretical writings he pleads for a “filmishes Schreiben” (“filmic writing” – author’s trans.), a writing that should integrate conventions pertaining to the medium of film into the dramatic text. Lepage most frequently integrates filmic conventions in his theatrical narratives, but also resorts to other media such as photography, television and video, which play a major role in Seven Streams of River Ota.

16

Introduction

“mal ohne, mal mit dem Einsatz technischer Medien” (Balme 1999, 136)31. In discussing some of the key scenes of the performance, where intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene are innovatively deployed, Balme proposes the following frame for interpretation: Drei mediale Ebenen lassen sich in diesen Szenen identifizieren, die ich als Rahmen-, Binnen- und thematisches Medium bezeichen möchte. Das Rahmenmedium ist Theater das im Laufe der Inszenierung nie ernsthaft in Frage gestellt wird. Lebende Schauspieler interagieren mit anderen Medien: mit Film- und Videoprojektionen, mit Fotografien. Das Binnenmedium in der ersten und dritten Szene ist Film bzw. Video. In der siebten Szene ist es Video, das sich am Ende in eine Repräsentation des Mediums Fotografie verwandelt. Das thematische Medium wiederum ist Fotografie, signalisiert bereits durch die Präsenz des Fotoapparats in der erste Szene. Fotografie ist überdies das thematische Medium des gesamten Inszenierung, weil sie zu einem zentralen Motiv im Verlauf der Handlung wird. Fotografie stellt eine motivische Verknüpfung der Komplexen, über fünfzig Jahre Weltgeschichte under drei Kontinente sich erstreckenden Handlungstrage dar: Fotografie als das Medium der Erinnerung im 20 Jahrhundert (1999:137;emphasis in original).32

Balme’s considerations refer further to the elements of the above mentioned frame of analysis, to the replacement of a pre-existing dramatic text with an intermedial “text,” based on collective creation and developed on stage,33 in rehearsals, and to the particular role ascribed for the

31

In English: “sometimes without, sometimes with the use of technology” (author's trans.). 32 In English: “Three levels of media usage can be identified in these scenes: framing, integrated and thematic. The framing medium is theatre, yet it is never openly under scrutiny in the course of the representation. Live actors interact with other media via film and video projections or photographs. The integrated media used in the first and third scene are film and/or video. In the seventh scene, the integrated medium is video, which turns into a representation of the photographic medium at the end of the scene. Then, in turn, photography becomes the thematic medium, after being already signaled by the presence of the photographic apparatus in the first scene. Moreover, photography becomes also the thematic medium of the entire mise-en-scene, and a central subject in the course of the action. Photography stands as a central theme and a link for carrying the action across fifty years of world history and three continents, thus becoming the representative medium for memory in the twentieth century” (author’s trans.). 33 The term “écriture scénique” proposed by Hébert and Perelli-Contos (2001) finds a linguistic equivalent in Balme’s term “Szenishes Schreiben” (1999, 142). Although the meanings slightly differ, due to specific linguistic and cultural

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

17

performer(s) within the economy of performance. The scholar maintains that the live interaction that takes place on stage between performer(s), the video material (whether this is pre-recorded or produced live) and/or other medial elements constitute an important postulate in the development of contemporary performance. The context thus created provides the framing medium of theatre with a self-reflective function (1999, 140). According to Balme, a satisfying evaluation of Lepage's concept of theatre cannot be formulated without an appropriate discussion of the director’s interest in different media. Moreover, although Lepage maintains that form is always located in the centre of his work, this is never limited to purely formal explorations (Balme 1999, 144). Consequently, the scholar postulates: Lepage’s Theater eröffnet eine neue Perspektive für das Verhaltnis des Theaters gegenüber den technisch gestützten Medien. Will das Theater Anschluß an eine neue Zuschauergeneration finden, was zu wünschen ware, dann müßte dieses Verhältnis ein produktives, auf intermediale Wechselbeziehungen ausgerichtetes sein (Balme 1999, 144).34

To conclude the present survey, according to academic findings so far, Robert Lepage’s theatre practice can be defined as a significant step forward in the development of contemporary Western theatre. Through the practice developed in the past three decades, Lepage: (a) demonstrated a significant potential in transforming contemporary Canadian theatre (especially Québécois)35 both at the level of production and reception (Hébert and Perelli Contos 2001); (b) promoted locally and internationally36 a concept of identity as a hybrid of local and global tendencies in continuous transformation (Dundjerovic 2003); (c) portrayed – through the narratives developed in performance, containing a hybridity of themes and aesthetic conventions from different media – Québec and, connotations, pertaining to French and German languages, and the particular definitions the scholars propose, the equivalence nevertheless still stands. 34 In English: “Lepage’s theater opens a new perspective for a new segment of audience, inclined towards technology. Should theatre wish to follow and find a connection with this new generation of spectators, this would become then a productive relationship, oriented towards intermedial interaction” (author’s trans.). .35 As numerous critics acknowledged, Lepage’s work is more influential outside Canada than inside, with the exception of Toronto and, of course, his home province of Québec. 36 Lepage creates theatre works that address an international audience rather than a local one. His narratives always contain Quebecers and issues related to the Québécois identity, seen in relation and interaction with other cultures. For more details see Chapter 1, section 1.1.

18

Introduction

by extension, Western contemporary society as a cultural “melting pot” (Rewa 1990 and Dvorak 1997); (d) pushed the formal boundaries of theatre performance through the integration of new media/technologies into the scenic apparatus and the development of theatre as process with highly transformative capacities (Fouquet 2002); (e) developed a theatre based on “décalage” that favors process over product, related to the sensorial and offering the audience a co-constitutive role (Bunzli 1999); and (f) used intermedial strategies of mise-en scene relating directly to the complex medial competences of contemporary spectators (Balme 1999). Overall, as stated at the beginning of this outline, the preoccupation to find an adequate, interdisciplinary framework to discuss both formal and content related aspects pertaining to Lepagean practice constitutes a common feature of the entire body of scholarship surveyed. The main argument of the present study is that an observation of Lepage’s theatre inevitably leads to the acknowledgement of significant changes in spectatorship occurring throughout the experience of live performance. The intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene proposed by the director engender changes of distance in perception, in a cumulative manner, ultimately altering spectatorship in a significant way. However, before the further elaboration on the proposed hypothesis, I suggest a preliminary theoretical detour: (1) to discuss the notion of distance in theatre (Ben Chaim 1984) as instrumental in accounting for the changes that occur at the level of perception, in terms of spectatorial experience in the situation of live performance, and (2) to outline the notion of remediation (Bolter and Grusin 1999) and attempt its application to the medium of theatre, in order to account for the radical formal changes in contemporary Western theatrical practice, of which Lepage’s work has proved to be one of the key representatives.

The Concept of Distance in Theatre Although distance has been a critical factor in the development of modernist and contemporary theatre – as the ongoing preoccupation of numerous seminal practitioners implicitly or explicitly attests, especially in relation to notions of fictionality, mise-en-scene and the impact on spectatorship – the concept of distance remains rather under-theorized in theatre studies. Daphna Ben Chaim, however, provides an extensive discussion of the development of the notion in her book-length study Distance in the Theatre: The Aesthetics of an Audience’s Response (1984). Since the research constitutes an attempt to discuss the concept both across and within the fields of theatre, film and philosophy and situate them in

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19

inter-relation, an outline of Ben Chaim’s argument is necessary. Right from the outset the scholar identifies a diversity of approaches towards the notion with one common denominator: Dramatic theorists and theatre practitioners characterize distance in the theatre in a variety of ways, though nearly all assume that it concerns the spectator’s psychological relation to the theatrical event. Concern with the state of mind or mode of perception, of the spectator is perhaps the single unvarying feature in the entire history of the idea (Ben Chaim 1984,1).

According to Ben Chaim, distance37 evolved as a theoretical concept from the idea of “aesthetic disinterestedness,” presented by Aristotle and further articulated by several eighteenth century British thinkers.38 The idea received its most influential treatment by Immanuel Kant in Critique of Judgement (1790), where the philosopher explained how aesthetic judgment was possible. According to Ben Chaim, Kant maintained that all aesthetic judgments were particular, subjective judgments yet devoid of any personal stake, and distinguished the experience of the “beautiful” from that of the “pleasant” and of the “good” on this basis. Ben Chaim, however, finds Kant’s formulation reductive. She maintains that “there are surely some senses in which art is both a personal matter and a matter of self interest” (1984, 3) and proposes, instead, Edward Bullough theory, presented in “’Psychical Distance’ as a Factor in Art and an Aesthetic Principle” (1912), as an attempt to overcome the Kantian restrictions and to initiate a new line of thought. According to Bullough: Distance does not imply an impersonal, purely intellectually interested relation… On the contrary, it describes a personal relation, often highly emotionally colored, but of a peculiar character. Its peculiarity lies in that the personal character of the relation has been, so to speak, filtered. It has been cleared of the practical, concrete nature of its appeal, without, however, thereby losing its original constitution (Bullough in Ben Chaim 1984, 3, emphasis in original).

Thus, Bullough – as outlined by Ben Chaim – considers distance an independent mental force that operates bifoldedly: (1) in a negative, inhibitory way, by inserting itself between the practical self (with needs 37

The word “distance” in English is used to suggest emotional withdrawal or noninvolvement. This metaphorical use, according to Ben Chaim, is well established since Shakespeare (1984, 1). 38 Ben Chaim mentions as representatives of British thought: Lord Shaftesbury, Addison, Hutcheson, Alison and Edmund Burke.

20

Introduction

and desires) and the experience of the work; and (2) in a positive way, by permitting an elaboration of experience on the new basis created by the inhibitory action. Distance, therefore, is seen as an essential characteristic of the perception of art, though its effects are variable (1984, 3-4). Ben Chaim underlines that, “[i]n choosing the phrase ‘psychical distance,’ Bullough moves the discussion further towards the perceptual and psychological and away from the absolute attributes of the work of art itself, a shift congenial to contemporary philosophy and aesthetics”(1984, 4). Further on, in her account of Bullough’s essay,39 Ben Chaim observes that: (1) the British author rejects “fictionality” – the awareness of the artificiality of the art work – as the cause of distance, instead making it a product of psychical distance; (2) his argument does not explain what exactly triggers the mental attitude when confronted with art works, that is what signals distance to insert itself when the aesthetic attitude occurs; and (3) his account does not explain how distance actually affects/determines the viewers’ involvement with the artwork. Thus, Bullough’s implied contention on the matter of distance – according to Ben Chaim – is that there is a lack of emotional involvement, without the complete loss of a personal relationship. A paradoxically involved-yet-removed relationship with the work of art takes place, but how this occurs it is not altogether clear. In other words, the paradox is perceived, but it is yet to be resolved by means of psychology (1984, 6). Finally, Bullough postulates that: “the ideal experience of the work of art takes place when the viewer has the least amount of distance without losing it, the most intense personal experience without too much subjectivity” (Bullough in Ben Chaim 1984, 6). Ben Chaim considers this to be “a basic principle which Bullough refers to as the ‘antinomy of Distance’– the ‘utmost decrease of Distance without its disappearance’” (1984, 6). A final point of relevance in this theorization – as highlighted by Ben Chaim – is that distance is seen as a central element in the perception of art. Bullough’s concept of distance is then further applied to the experience of theatre: Bullough […] considers the ‘bodily vehicle’ of drama to be a considerable risk to distance: its use of real objects and real people within actual space could blur the perceiver’s awareness of the art-character [fictionality] of the event, its artificiality. ‘To counterbalance a confusion with nature,’ Bullough explains that other features of the theatrical presentation increase our awareness of theatre as art – the stage, costumes, artificial light, makeup, etc. Bullough’s emphasis on the artificiality of the theatrical 39

For a more detailed account of Bullough’s essay is to be found in Ben Chaim’s study, pp. 5-8.

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conventions and their importance in relation to distance foreshadows the views of Antonin Artaud and Bertolt Brecht, who both shared this crucial principle in their otherwise apparently opposed theories (Ben Chaim 1984, 9).

Further on, incorporating arguments from other thinkers as well as theatre and film theorists of the twentieth century, Ben Chaim looks at the findings by Jean Paul Sartre, Bertolt Brecht, Jerzy Grotowski, Antonin Artaud, Christian Metz and André Bazin40 in an attempt to develop a comprehensive framework that facilitates a more precise and nuanced understanding of the notion of distance in theatre. In Psychology of Imagination (1948) Sartre characterizes theatre as manifesting “absolute distance,” with the physical distance that separates the audience from performance working as a metaphor towards the psychological/emotional protection of the spectator. According to Ben Chaim, the French philosopher distinguishes between perceiving and imagining,41where imagining is considered an involvement with the unreal, with fictionality. Consequently, the hybrid condition of theatre becomes a tension between what is seen and what is imagined and this tension – a voluntary act of consciousness – is the source of the most pleasant aspect of theatre experience (Ben Chaim 1984, 20). Elaborating further on Sartre’s theory, the scholar suggests that: Distance is not an involuntary seizure of the mind, nor an automatic (even though it may become conditioned) response to objects of a certain kind; it is an act of will. In this case, then, distancing techniques are not merely intensification of our awareness of artistic conventions, or of the fictionality of the object, but reminders of our original contract with the object: that its existence as an aesthetic object rests on our complicity (Ben Chaim 1984, 23-24).

In relation to Brecht’s conceptualization of the notion, Ben Chaim observes that the spectator’s distance is not simply “a protection from the characters’ ‘white of eyes,’ but particularly a frame of mind”42(1984, 25). 40

Both Christian Metz and André Bazin, as film theorists, developed their arguments on filmic spectatorship by drawing comparisons with theatre spectatorship, which makes their contribution valuable and significant to Ben Chaim’s own argument and relevant in the context of the present study. 41 In the chapter dedicated to Sartre’s theory, Ben Chaim underlines that, for the French philosopher, the image is not a “picture,” but merely a relationship between object and consciousness, and ultimately an act of consciousness (1984, 86). 42 Ben Chaim draws on Brecht’s “Schriften zum Theater” (1964 [1922]) (see Bibliography for further details).

22

Introduction

Instead of trying to eliminate the emotional involvement, Brecht advocates the use of emotions in a controlled, specific way. The awareness of theatre, as a medium, puts the spectator in a more active mental state, resulting in an enhanced intellectual participation, as part of the spectatorial act (Ben Chaim 1984, 28). In looking for strategies that would increase spectatorial distance, through an emphasis on the fictionality of the theatrical event, Brecht – according to Ben Chaim – suggests that: (1) the stage environment itself can distance the dramatic events; (2) emphasis on the narrative rather than on characters creates a more distanced perspective upon the theatrical event; and (3) by treating each scene like a play-withina-play, intensive and/or ongoing emotional participation is prevented and, consequently, a critical frame of reference is maintained (1984, 29). Ben Chaim concludes: It is Brecht’s assumption that without his strenuous efforts the spectator would be mesmerized in the theatre, totally deluded into a transference dream-state. What Brecht wants instead is a critical perspective on the part of the spectator; one he thinks can be achieved by creating ‘partial illusions.’ By ‘partial illusion’, Brecht seems to refer to a need for the image to be at once recognizable and distanced, which seems essentially identical to Coleridge’s definition of illusion as ‘poetic faith.’ Brecht seems to be maintaining that the ‘reality, however complete,’ becomes art when it is perceived as fiction (that is when it is ‘recognized as an illusion’). He apparently means two things by this word ‘illusion’: fiction and delusion. Therefore, what he means by ‘partial illusion’ is the awareness of fiction (that is, the delusion removed) (1984, 32).

Christian Metz and André Bazin’s theorizations of film spectatorship constitute further stepping stones in Ben Chaim’s development of a theory of distance in theatre, relying on the differences between the theatrical and cinematic experiences. For both theorists “the relation of the unreal to the real is of prime importance for understanding the qualitative difference” (Ben Chaim 1984, 51) between the two media in terms of spectatorship. The distinctions proposed “hinge on notions of distance” (51). In Metz’s view, film, as a medium, creates the conditions for the spectator to imaginatively engage with the unreal aesthetic object and to acquire minimal distance. The unreality of filmic images does not intrude upon the fictional world, thereby compelling the viewer into engagement. Theatre, on the other hand, creates too much distance, making it difficult for the viewer to imagine the nonexistent fictional object. The materiality of the theatrical means of representation – actors, props, scenery, and the actual space, in sum: the perception of the reality of the stage – often overpower the imagination (Ben Chaim 1984, 52). Metz maintains that fictional film

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

23

is even more fictional because the “unfolding” itself is fictive, whereas in theatre the “unfolding” of the narrative involves real time, space and people, performers and spectators.43 On the other hand, Bazin44 considers theatre as predominantly reliant on convention, and film predominantly relying on illusion. This, in terms of spectatorship, means that, whilst in theatre the conventionality of the event is situated at the core of the spectatorial experience, throughout the filmic experience images are primarily perceived as a continuation of the real space, of the world, and filmic conventions, although used, mainly create an “illusion of reality,” an extension of reality (Ben Chaim 1984, 61). Thus, Metz and Bazin’s theoretical postulates regarding the factors that lead to the reduction of distance in terms of filmic spectatorship are situated in opposition. Metz considers film’s unreal, shadowy nature a central factor, while Bazin maintains that it is the verisimilitude of the filmic image that is essential in spectatorship. In the context of Ben Chaim’s own argument, however, remains essential the acknowledgement of a certain degree of distance in spectatorship, variable both inside each medium and between the two media in discussion, the existence of distance as intrinsic to the perception of both, film and theatre. As the scholar highlights, perhaps Metz’s most significant contribution to an understanding of the concept of distance is that “that an involvement with the art object is made easier when ‘fictionality’ (nonreality) is inherent in the medium itself: Bullough’s paradox is as fundamental to film as it is to theatre (or to other art forms)” (Ben Chaim 1984, 64). At the end of her theoretical journey outlined above, Ben Chaim proposes the following (descriptive) definition of distance in theatre: The combination […] of unreality with recognizable human characteristics seems to be the minimum requirement for identification, and both of these conditions are variable and provide the borders within which distance operates. Those qualities that make the object seem like ourselves (humanization) pull the object towards us; those aspects which distinguish the object from ourselves and our real world (an awareness of fictionality) push the object away from us. The aesthetic tension between these two opposing tendencies constitutes distance and provides the conditions for the variability of distance: as Bullough explains, distance involves a personal relationship with the object, on one hand and the object’s dissociation from the practical world of reality, on the other. […] The most 43

Ben Chaim draws mainly on Christian Metz’s “The Imaginary Signifier” (1975) (see Bibliography for further details). 44 The scholar looks at Bazin’s theory of cinematic spectatorship in: What is Cinema? (1971) (see Bibliography for further details).

24

Introduction intense personal relationship with a minimum of awareness of fictionality is ‘low’ distance and the combination that the realistic film and realistic play aspire to. An increased awareness of fiction combined with the lowest humanization is largely the province of farce in the theatre, of Punch and Judy, and stylized theatre of extreme abstraction (1984, 67).

In addition, the scholar observes that the conditions of distance can vary with different types of play or theatrical genres, but also within any given performance. She maintains that no distancing technique should be read outside its specific context, since distance is “a relational and a relative factor, and no technique has absolute distancing value” (1984, 72). In other words, theatrical effects are always (to be) interpreted in interrelation, and according to their particular context, since “style, subject matter and audience assumptions are inseparably interrelated” (1984, 72). Ben Chaim also significantly distinguishes between the variable components of a source of distance and the varying effects of distance in particular, given contexts. In the scholar’s opinion, the “deliberate manipulation of distance is one of the distinctive features of the twentieth century theatre” (1984, 78) and the result of the various theatrical experiments since the beginning of the century (i.e. Alfred Jarry, Gerhart Hauptmann, Maurice Maeterlinck, the Dadaists, Jean Cocteau, etc.). Thus, the deliberate play with distance becomes an effect of the theatrical experiments meant to raise the field’s awareness to the phenomenon of distance and, at the same time, a reaction against the tendency of theatrical genres to fix (freeze) distance through conventionality. Moreover, the scholar observes that even though the phenomenon of distance existed prior to the twentieth century “the deliberate and conscious manipulation of it by theatre practitioners seems to be a recent development” (1984, 79). Therefore, as twentieth century theatre practices became increasingly aware of the importance of distance in spectatorship, nowadays it “is rare to find a play with serious ambitions that does not exploit sharp alterations in distance” (1984, 80, emphasis in original). Lepage’s intermedial theatre constitutes a notable example. The reasons behind the alterations of distance and theatre’s growing awareness of its own mediality, progressively enhanced by its relationship with diverse other media, are highlighted by the notion of remediation and its logic, underlining the conventionality that lies at the heart of media (theatre included) and providing a contingent and historically determined understanding of the developments that are likely occur in terms of spectatorial perception.

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25

The Remediation of Theatre The notion of remediation coined by Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin in Remediation: Understanding New Media (1999) is instrumental in understanding the alterations of distance in terms of spectatorship, as they became increasingly familiar in contemporary practice, in interrelation with the pervasive development of media, and with substantial impact on all aspects of production and reception. Although Bolter and Grusin’s study is mainly dedicated to the construction of what they call a “genealogy of new media,”45 the concept of remediation itself, with its double formal logic of immediacy and hypermediacy, and the claim that remediation is not necessarily ontologically inscribed in any particular medium, but rather a dominant cultural convention in use at this precise historical moment,46 are key for the development of this study's main argument. Theatre, with its etymological origin – theatron, in Greek “the place to see” – has always been a medium in which visuality played a critical role. Unlike media theorists fascinated with the modernist myth of the “new,” Bolter and Grusin propose that new media achieve their cultural significance not by divorcing from older media, but precisely by paying homage to, rivaling and refashioning earlier media. Scholars call this process of refashioning remediation. In developing their argument they point out that earlier media have also refashioned one another: photography remediated painting, film remediated theatre and photography, television remediated film, vaudeville, and radio, etc. Building up on the notion of remediation as “the representation of a 45

The authors’ project is developed in three main steps: (1) the theoretical argumentation and definition of the notion of remediation, with its double formal logic of immediacy and hypermediacy, as a process that accounts for the dynamics of media development; (2) an analysis of contemporary media and mediated spaces using the concept of remediation, and (3) a theorization of the impact of the logic of remediation on the contemporary self. Scholars do not propose a historical progression of remediation, with newer media remediating older ones, but an intricate “genealogy of affiliations” whereby older media can remediate and be in turn remediated by newer ones, since no medium “can now function independently and establish its own separate and purified space of cultural meaning” (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 55). 46 Bolter and Grusin postulate: “In arguing that all mediation is remediation, we do not mean that remediation is the irreducible essence of either digital media or mediation generally, but rather that at our historical moment, remediation is the predominant convention at work in establishing the identity of the new digital media” (1999, 54).

26

Introduction

medium in another” (1999, 45), authors claim that all media co-construct each other and are (always) situated in dialogue, in a complex process involving the reformation of reality and ultimately of the self.47 Theatre, with its ability to incorporate and synthesize other medial elements within its own means of expression, contributes in a similar way to the development of the current medial and cultural economy and employs remediation strategies much like other media. Thus, Bolter and Grusin postulate remediation as the formal logic by which new media refashion prior media forms and, alongside immediacy and hypermediacy, as one of the three traits of the genealogy of media. Immediacy is defined as a style of representation whose goal is “to make the viewer forget the presence of the medium and believe that s/he is in the presence of the object of representation,” whilst hypermediacy is described as “a style of representation whose goal is to remind the viewer of the medium” (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 272-273). Both styles situate themselves in a dialectic relationship that articulates remediation as a process. Scholars maintain that examples of remediation, abundant in contemporary media, can also be found in earlier periods of representation and that, in fact, all media, older or newer, follow the same formal logic in their development, a logic of oscillation between the two opposing principles and styles and, in terms of perception, between medial transparency and medial opacity. Furthermore Bolter and Grusin suggest that: This oscillation is the key to understanding how a medium refashions its predecessors and other contemporary media. Although each medium promises to reform its predecessors by offering a more immediate or authentic experience, the promise of reform inevitably leads us to become aware of the new medium as a medium. Thus immediacy leads to hypermediacy (1999, 19).

Scholars do not claim the status of “universal aesthetic truth” for the two opposing principles/styles, but rather define them as practices of specific groups at specific historical moments, including the present time. However, the examples from older media highlighted in their argumentation are to be considered in resonance with what is defined as 47

One of the important claims of their study is that, due to their constant and dynamic inter-relation, reality and mediation are in fact inseparable. Consequently, all mediations are as real as any artifact in contemporary society, a point of view converging with Auslander’s argument about the lack of ontological difference between liveness and mediatization, which will be discussed in detail in Chapter 3, Subchapter 3. 2.

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“the twin preoccupation of contemporary media [for] the transparent presentation of the real and the enjoyment of the opacity of media themselves” (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 21). According to Bolter and Grusin, the desire for immediacy has a history that cannot be easily overcome since, at least from Renaissance onwards; immediacy has been “a defining feature of Western visual (and for that matter verbal) representation” (1999, 24). Earlier media sought immediacy “through the interplay of the aesthetic value of transparency with techniques of linear perspective, erasure, and automaticity” (1999, 24). The technique of perspective, situated at the center of visual representation in fine arts starting with Renaissance, and integrated in the construction of the theatrical space and imagery later on, means “seeing through,” an erasure of the interface used by the medium. This engenders a lack of distance in perception for the viewer/spectator and stimulates identification at symbolic and cognitive levels with what is presented by the picture, or on stage. Immediacy, thus, attempts to remove the creator(s) from the image (1999, 28) and, consequentially, offers the ground for an enhanced, potentially more “intimate” or “authentic” investment of the viewer/spectator into the image. However – as Bolter and Grusin highlight – “the logic of transparent immediacy does not necessarily commit the viewer to an utterly naïve or magical conviction that the representation is the same thing as what it represents” (1999, 30), but rather illustrates a set of “beliefs and practices that express themselves differently at various times among various groups … [and the] common feature […] is the belief in some necessary contact point between the medium and what it represents” (30). On the other hand, the fascination with media is not necessarily a contemporary phenomenon. Hypermediacy has played its own part as a “representational practice and a cultural logic” (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 31) in the history of cultural representation. It is a style that – as William J. Mitchell claims in Picture Theory (1984) – “privileges fragmentation, indeterminacy, and heterogeneity and […] emphasizes process or performance rather than the finished art object” (8). Defined in opposition with immediacy, hypermediacy is expressed as multiplicity. Bolter and Grusin suggest that, if the logic of immediacy leads to the erasure of the medium and renders automatic the act of representation, the logic of hypermediacy does the opposite: it “acknowledges multiple acts of representation and makes them visible” (1999, 34). In addition, scholars argue that whilst immediacy has been the dominant logic in Western representation at least from Renaissance onwards until modernism, the logic of hypermediacy has often had to content itself with a secondary

28

Introduction

status. It adopted, instead, “a playful and subverted attitude, both acknowledging and undercutting the desire for immediacy” (1999, 34). Bolter and Grusin note that there were moments in the history of media where the two logics coexisted,48 even though (arguably) not acknowledged as such by theoretical interpretations. However, nowadays – authors claim – “we are in a position to understand hypermediacy as immediacy’s opposite number, an alter ego that has never been suppressed fully or for long periods of time” (1994, 34). Furthermore, defining the impact of the two opposing principles/styles on spectatorial perception, Bolter and Grusin state: Where immediacy suggests a unified visual space, contemporary hypermediacy offers a heterogeneous space, in which representation is conceived not as a window on to the world, but rather as ‘windowed’ itself – with windows that open on to other representations or other media. The logic of hypermediacy multiplies the signs of mediation and in this way tries to reproduce the rich sensorium of human experience. […] In every manifestation, hypermediacy makes us aware of the medium or media and (in sometimes subtle and sometimes obvious ways) reminds us of our desire for immediacy (1999, 33-34).

For the purpose of this study’s argument it is important to highlight that both terms – immediacy and hypermediacy – are used by the authors in two senses: epistemological and psychological. In the epistemological sense immediacy equals transparency, the apparent absence of mediation or representation, whilst in psychological terms it “names the viewer’s feeling that the medium has disappeared and the objects are present to him, a feeling that his experience is therefore authentic” (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 70-71). The epistemological sense of hypermediacy is that of opacity – “the fact that knowledge of the world comes to us through 48

In support of their argumentation, scholars put forward Jonathan Crary’s findings regarding the technologies of visual reproduction discussed in Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century (1990). Bolter and Grusin consider that Crary’s study challenges: “the traditional view that photography is the continuation and the perfection of the technique of linearperspective painting. For Crary, there was a rupture early in the nineteenth century, when the stable observation captured by the old camera obscura and by perspective painting was replaced by a new goal of mobility of observation. Reflecting this goal was a new set of (now archaic) devices: the diorama, the phenakistoscope, and the stereoscope. These devices, characterized by multiple images, moving images, or sometimes moving observers, seemed to have operated under both these logics at the same time, as they incorporated transparent immediacy within hypermediacy” (1999, 37).

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29

media” (1999, 71), whilst “the insistence that the experience of the medium is itself an experience of the real” (71) describes its psychological understanding. Thus, one logic tends to erase distance, the other acknowledges it, but both, in psychological terms, rely on the claim of the authenticity of experience.49 This, ultimately, brings the two logics together and connects them to a third logic, that of remediation; also makes them highly relevant to spectatorial experience. Consequently, in the process of remediation each viewer/spectator enters a “twofold relationship with the medium. On one hand s/he seeks immediacy of the real in the denial of mediation. On the other, s/he seeks that immediacy through the acknowledgement and multiplication of media”(1999, 229). Returning to Ben Chaim’s (previously discussed) notion of distance as central to modernist and contemporary theatre, one could assert that whilst an explicit desire for psychological and/or sensorial immediacy has been present and predominant in Western theatre practice since Renaissance, it manifested itself in unprecedented ways throughout the twentieth century, and, more so, in conjunction with the logic of hypermediacy, which gradually gained prominence, especially in experimental practices. The desire to achieve the “real” in theatre, the authenticity of experience, in the context of proliferating medial developments, translated into a tendency to develop creative strategies that lead to radical alternations of distance; in sum to a multitude of openly expressed attempts to manipulate distance. Thus, to speak with Bolter and Grusin, the manipulation of distance in theatre has been accomplished through the use of the logic of immediacy (arguably dominant in mainstream practice), the use of the logic of hypermediacy (often present in experimental practice) and, more importantly, through an alternation of the two, using the logic of remediation, the ultimate goal being achieving the sensation of authenticity of experience in terms of spectatorship.50 Therefore, in the context of this study, an application of the concept of remediation to the medium of theatre would refer primarily to the psychological sense of the term and would translate into the claim that 49

Authors claim that the appeal to the authenticity of experience is socially constructed and contextual: “for it is clear that not only individuals, but also various social groups can vary in their definition of the authentic. What seems immediate to one group is highly mediated to another” (1999, 71). 50 Bolter and Grusin connect the “psychological economy of remediation, in which the desire for immediacy cannot be fulfilled by transparent media and must therefore be supplemented by technologies of hypermediacy” (1999, 236) to the Lacanian critique of desire by Slavoj Zizek (1993) and consider that the double logic of remediation recapitulates the Lacanian psychic economy.

30

Introduction

attempts to alter or remediate distance between spectator and performance have become increasingly frequent throughout the recent history of the medium. In this respect, Lepage’s practice constitutes a key example. Moreover, theatre is, by definition, a medium characterized by enhanced mediality, which implies an ability to develop (mainly) by incorporating conventions, narrative strategies, material elements and technologies pertaining to other media.51 One could argue, therefore, that the manipulation of distance in relation to spectatorship has been, in fact, inscribed in the history of the medium since its beginnings, particularly in the case of Western theatre practice, as Derrick de Kerkhove’s study “A theory of Greek tragedy” (1981) suggests. Yet, this tendency has become overtly and persistentlypresent starting with the twentieth century and avant-garde/experimental practices. De Kerckhove’s claim that Greek theatre, as one of the developments of phonetic alphabet, had, as an immediate effect, the transformation of the sensory life of the Athenian community, thus altering perception in significant ways, is of special relevance here: The theatrical processes amplified and extended to the non-literature members of the Athenian culture, some of the discreet effects, which the phonetic alphabet generated among those who could read and write. While they were attending stage productions illiterates might be deemed to develop their attention span, their concentration, their critical faculties and their capacities for abstraction, their manipulation of language, and even their visual skills from peripheral to centralized and directional vision. They might be encouraged for the first time to define and fragment experience in sequences and reorganize its patterns in a unified visual space. […] [T]he public was exposed to highly involved actions based on common knowledge and yet prevented from responded physically, the seating arrangement and the distance between the orchestra and itself, the need to control and convert physical impulses into mental ones, must have arisen (1981, 23-24).

In other words, the role of theatre, at that time, had been not only to educate morally, but perhaps more importantly to train the public to the “new sensorial synthesis of fixed visual space” (1981, 27), through a separation of senses that privileged the function of the eye. This led to an initial establishment of the parameters of distance, physical and psychological, designed to achieve the impression of authenticity in terms

51

For a more detailed discussion of Intermediality and theatre as a medium see further Chapter 2, subchapter 2.2 (pp. 82-84).

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

31

of spectatorial experience; that is to achieve the “real” for the Athenian community. Further on, throughout the history of the medium, the parameters of distance have been substantially remediated, several times. Nevertheless, remediation as practice has become increasingly familiar only in recent decades. Throughout the twentieth century, stimulated by the unprecedented development of media – i.e. film, photography, television, video, internet, digital media, etc. – and their impact on the cultural logic and economy, parameters of distance in theatrical spectatorship tended to be significantly and repeatedly altered, following the tripartite logic of remediation, whilst conventions regarding the distance between spectator and performance have been challenged in various ways. Consequently, due to the present medial context and the acquired literacies (meanwhile), the way in which we – as spectators – perceive, understand and relate to images and/or media content in our day-to-day experience, as well as in the experience of arts, has become subject to substantial, quasi-ongoing remediation. An acknowledgement of experimental practices in Western theatre, of the abundance of hybridized practices and styles that occurred throughout the twentieth century and in the first decade of the twenty-first century, leads one to assert that the process of remediation in theatre, as in any other media pertaining to representation, took an unprecedented impetus. Erwin Piscator’s call for the “cinefication of theatre,” Bertolt Brecht’s project of epic theatre and his theorization of a theatrical mode of writing that integrates filmic conventions, Vsevolod Meyerhold’s call for turning the spectator into “the fourth creator” in theatre are, all, by now, canonic examples of radical attempts at remediating theatre, in modernist terms. Furthermore, the second half of the twentieth century brought to the forefront new radical developments in theatre, based on the logic of remediation; the list is far too long to be enumerated here. Thus, one can argue that the range of remediation processes in theatre, historically speaking, ultimately sought and seek to provoke alterations of distance in spectatorship, striving to achieve the “real” in terms of experience, and, by doing so, they have contributed to the development of the medium as such. In conclusion, the numerous attempts at theatrical remediation, stimulated by the influence of media (whether old and new) and the subsequently acquired medial literacies and expectations, lead to the development of a particular type of spectatorial experience characterized mainly by complexity and hybridity in more recent times.52 In this sense Lepage’s theatre practice – through its consistent use of 52

An in-depth theoretical discussion of contemporary spectatorial expectations in theatre is developed in Chapter 3, subchapter 3.2 (pp. 107-123)

32

Introduction

intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene and the particular work-in-progress process of creation – can be interpreted as a significant example of theatre remediation, to enrich the audience’s experience of theatre.

Hypothesis and Integration of Research Whilst acknowledging the importance and usefulness of the existing theoretical frameworks for the study of Lepage’s work, I suggest that the discussed perspectives aim to account – implicitly or explicitly – for the (extensively documented) impact of his theatre performances upon spectatorship, that is Western audiences, whether occasional theatre-goers or specialized viewers. As mentioned before, scholars and critics seem to share, albeit in varying degrees, a similar fascination with the formal novelty of Lepage’s performances much like “ordinary” theatregoers.53 Therefore, using as a starting point the concern with the audience in the attempt to define the specific type of experience proposed by Lepage’s creative practice, and an interdisciplinary framework that combines theatre, media and cultural studies (in order to account for the complexity and hybridity of the experience proposed) constitutes the main project of this book. The study intends to complement and contribute to the existing body of scholarship by focusing on the particular type of spectatorship that occurs in relation to the director’s intermedial mise-en-scene strategies. As the Lepage himself highlighted numerous times in interviews, the audience is of seminal importance in the development of his creative process: [W]e have to accept that a piece of theatre is something that goes on as much in the room, as it does on stage. The audience is part of the writing process. The audience has to be re-invited back into theatre and into the theatre craft (Lepage in Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 311).

The director’s preoccupation for the expectations and experience of the diverse audiences has been a constant of his practice, as it will be discussed in detail further on, in Chapters 1 and 3.

53

The success of Lepage’s theatre, in this respect, is highlighted not only by specialized accounts, reviews and scholarly studies, but also by the time-extensive touring of each of his original performances, the full houses in most of the cases and last, but not least, by the space allocated by local mass-media (i.e. newspapers and television stations) to the dissemination and discussion of his performances, throughout the touring processes. This, I suggest, pertains not only to the current logic of cultural economy (i.e. marketing strategies), but to obvious spectatorial preferences and expectations.

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage

33

The main hypothesis of this study is that intermediality – understood as a mise-en-scene strategy implemented in specific ways throughout each creative process and a (noticeable) perceptual effect in spectatorship –, apparent via diverse intermedial and multi-medial configurations in the situation of live performance, is situated at the core of Robert Lepage’s theatre and the main reason behind the audience response in diverse cultural and geographical configurations. The intermediality of Lepage’s theatrical proposition, with its apparently accessible, nevertheless hybrid, complex and transformative configuration, aims to respond to the needs and expectations of contemporary audiences with (rather) enhanced levels of medial literacy. The particularities of this creative approach made his work relevant internationally throughout more than the last three decades, securing its well-established place within the Western theatre landscape. In the context of this study, the notion of intermediality refers technically, also, to an effect upon the spectator, accomplished through the meeting and, most of often than not, challenging of the expectations of contemporary audience, achieved through the use of twin logic of remediation. In this analysis, it is showed that – in terms of spectatorship – the intermedial strategies proposed on stage engender a quasi-continuous alteration of the parameters of distance, experienced by the spectator throughout the live performance, which consequently impact upon the relationship between spectators and performance. Moreover, it is proposed that Lepage is not only using intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene, developed mainly through the hybridization and/or juxtaposition of conventions belonging to other media within the framing medium of theatre, but that he attempts to integrate both media and audience into a live system in perpetual transformation that feeds back into the work-inprogress aspect of his practice, thus ascribing an additional, coconstitutive, role for the spectator as a feedback provider, outside the situation of live performance. Therefore, in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre, spectatorship contains two novel aspects that are to be considered and scrutinized in detail: (1) the audience is treated (formally) as another medium, or, in Lepage’s own methodological terms, a “Resource”54 involved in the “writing process” of the performance; and (2) an enhancement of the creative and cognitive aspects of spectatorship is provoked by the quasi54

The term “Resource” is used here in connection to the Repère Cycles developed by Jacques Lessard and further appropriated and adapted by Lepage to his own theatrical process. For a detailed discussion of the term and method see Chapter 1, section 1.1.4.

34

Introduction

continuous manipulation of distance in performance, engendered by the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene and the multi-medial and/or intermedial scenic environment. Consequently, the spectator’s coconstitutive role in the production of performance consists of becoming first a receiver/user of the intermedial mise-en-scene strategies presented on stage, leading to a development of his/her own particular cognitive strategies as part of the performance; and secondly a medium and a “Resource” in the (quasi-continuous) process of remediation of the performance, outside the live situation. Both roles ascribed alter spectatorship in a significant manner, enhancing its creative potential, leading to a particular type of engagement, and highlight the recurring fascination with Lepage’s work that scholarly studies and reviews extensively acknowledge. Chapter 1 starts by outlining the context of theatre in Québec, attempting to trace those elements of social, technological and artistic hybridity that have impacted upon Robert Lepage’s formation as a theatremaker. Using a theoretical framework that combines cultural and theatre studies, the chapter highlights those particular elements that triggered the director’s preoccupation for the establishment of a dynamic dialogue with (both) local and international audiences and the subsequent impact on the development of his own creative process. A discussion of the ways in which this ongoing creative dialogue has developed and functions – integrating audiences as feedback providers – makes the object of the second part of the chapter. The contextualization of Robert Lepage’s theatrical process aims to provide a nuanced foundation for the development of the main theoretical argument by highlighting the specifics of the Québécois social and theatrical environment, characterized by hybridity and complexity. Chapter 2 dedicates itself to the elaboration of a theoretical framework that combines theatre and media studies and engages with the notion of intermediality in its diverse scholarly articulations, followed by a discussion of theatre as a medium, the application of the concept of intermediality to contemporary theatre practice and a final establishment of key aspects of intermediality in Lepage’s directorial approach. The aim of this theoretical chapter is to offer an informed understanding of the ways in which the media theory based notion of intermediality could be applied to theatre as a medium, before moving on to the in-depth analysis of the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene in Lepage’s original theatre work. Chapter 3 starts by engaging with the ways in which notions of audience and spectatorship have been theorized in theatre studies, and

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35

acknowledges an under-theorization by comparison to the fields of film and media studies. A discussion of the historically changing conditions of spectatorship, leading to a shift in contemporary spectatorial perceptual abilities and habitudes – as instrumented by media theory findings from Walter Benjamin, Jonathan Crary, Marshall McLuhan, Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin – and a further discussion of notions of the “live” and “mediatized” – as developed by Philip Auslander in relation to contemporary spectatorial expectations, inform the further development of a particular model of spectatorship for intermedial theatre. The second part of the chapter focuses on Lepage’s specific approach towards audience and the inclusion of spectators in his creative process. Chapter 4 provides an in-depth (descriptive) analysis of the intermedial mise-en-scene strategies developed by the director in original solo performances such as: Vinci (1986), Needles and Opium (1991), Elsinore (1995), Far Side of the Moon (2000) and The Andersen Project (2005).55 It must be noted that solos as well as (all) other original performances by Lepage have been developed as works-in-progress. The analysis will, therefore, attempt to account for the key changes that occurred in time, in the development of the shows, mainly in terms of intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene and their impact upon spectatorship, as reflected by theoretical studies, reviews and/or interviews. A comparative discussion of the solos will also be provided, to highlight the developments in terms of the intermedial strategies used by the director and the subsequent alterations in spectatorship. The Conclusion presents the theoretical findings of this study, based on the theoretical argument developed in previous chapter, the in-depth scrutiny of the case studies chosen and sets forth to propose a particular model of spectatorship for Robert Lepage’s theatre. Appendix A provides a chronology of Lepage’s theatre and opera work, as well as other events of performative nature to which Lepage contributed to as a director/artistic creator, and offers key production and touring information for his main original theatre performances. Appendix B corroborates information related to Lepage’s accolades and achievements as an outstanding creator, (implicitly) highlighting the impact of his creative practice in contemporary Western culture.56 55

The years provided in the enumeration are – according to Ex Machina archives – the years in which the solos premiered. The same principle will be applied to all performances discussed throughout the present study. 56 Appendixes do not intend to provide information upon the entire body of work by Lepage, but rather offer an inclusive selection, useful for the reader in relation to the focus of this study. Further details of production, awards and other

36

Introduction

The choice of corpus for this study deliberately limits itself to Robert Lepage’s solo creations. The reason behind this choice lies in the fact that the solo performances are considered most appropriate for a thorough analysis of Lepage’s intermedial practice. Right from the onset – i.e. the preliminary research phase – the entire process is developed by Lepage and his collaborators through an intermedial and improvisational, associative approach, using as stimuli various resources, with no preestablished preference for any particular medium or theatrical element (i.e. dramatic text), and with Lepage as the leader/facilitator as well as the main performer and “author” of the intermedial text (“écriture scénique”/ “szenishes Schreiben”) to be developed. Thus, the degree of control established by the director upon the intermedial strategies developed is far greater than in the case of collective works, where the contribution of other performers is quite notable at times and “authorship” is definitely shared. Thus, one could argue that in the case of the solo work, Lepage’s creative approach becomes more visibly discernible in detail, for scholarly study. However, the interdisciplinary framework articulated here and applied to the solo shows functions as a model applicable to the director’s collective performances, as it will be highlighted in the concluding chapter.

(potentially overlooked) aspects of the artist’s work can be found either on Ex Machina’s website (see Bibliography for details) or in the company’s archives.

CHAPTER ONE ROBERT LEPAGE AND THE CONTEXT OF THEATRE IN QUÉBEC

This chapter explores the context of contemporary theatre in Québec, attempting to trace those social, technological and artistic/aesthetic elements that have contributed to the formation and development of Robert Lepage’s directorial practice. It proposes that a marked hybridity, inherent to the Québécois socio-cultural context, impacted in significant ways upon the director’s formation and contributed to the development of his intermedial practice. It also suggests that, in its turn, the director’s practice furthered local spectatorial expectations, habitudes and practice through the ongoing dynamic dialogue established between his theatre work and local audience(s)1 from the onset of his career. Consequently, a particular mode of spectatorship – involved and highlighting agency – developed, first within local, then international contexts. Furthermore, following a feedback loop circuit model, the dialogue contributed to the shaping and further development of Lepage’s particular theatremaking process. The chapter, also, highlights – as acknowledged by scholarly studies and critiques – the director’s constant preoccupation for the perceived expectations of contemporary audiences as well as the ongoing attempts to respond artistically in ways able to enhance spectatorial perception, which can be considered, alongside intermediality, one of the marks of his practice. A preliminary contextualization of Lepage’s theatre in relation to the Québécois culture will attempt to establish connections with the key 1

I refer here both to local audiences (in Québec-City and the wider province of Québec) and the diverse international audiences (predominantly Western) that came in contact with Lepage’s productions at international festivals and/or during tours. It is true that the list of touring and festival attendance includes quite often also Japan, but one can assert that the pervasive influence of globalizing tendencies in the past decades combined with the intensive Westernization of the Japanese culture, post World War II, built a rather solid “bridge” towards a reception of Lepage’s original theatre works in terms (rather) similar to Western reception.

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aspects of his practice. The present chapter will be divided into two main subchapters. Subchapter 1.1 – with its five sub-sections – proposes a discussion of a series of historical, technological, social and artistic aspects pertaining to the Québécois environment and their impact upon Lepage’s formation and further development as a theatre maker. Subchapter 1.2 focuses on his theatrical process and method of creation, aiming to highlight the relationship established with the audiences in the past three decades. The particular ways in which the director uses the feedback loop circuit and integrates the audience(s)’ feedback within the process of performance remediation will make the object of in-depth discussion in Chapter 3, Subchapter 3.3.

1.1. Robert Lepage and the Québécois Context I shall start the present outline by defining contemporary Québécois society as culturally hybrid and characterized by an ongoing need for affirmation/recognition. The need for self-expression manifests itself through a constant necessity to proclaim specificity and a persistent attempt towards achieving visibility and validation in wider, national and international, contexts. Arguments relate mainly to historical and cultural specifics. Québec – a province with a special status inside the Canadian dominion, where conflicting Anglophone and Francophone tendencies have been present within the society for centuries, firstly at religious and economic, then at technological and cultural/artistic levels – demonstrated, in its rather recent modernity, an urge for emancipation which led to the articulation of a “Québécois identity” characterized by hybridity and situated in a position of quasi-continuous redefinition/remediation. The urge for self-expression revealed itself through the development of a “Québécois culture” that ambitioned and succeeded to gain national and international visibility in the past decades, a culture that proved itself to be dynamic, creative and in line with the novel tendencies in Western (globalized) landscape. In the realm of culture, the “Québécois identity” manifested itself most prominently in theatre. Starting with the late 1960s, theatre in Québec functioned as a powerful tool in the construction of the contemporary “Québécois identity,” exposed as it became to the trends of cultural and artistic globalization. In the early 1970s, through combining/hybridizing ideals of national emancipation, language specificity and an engagement with collective creation practices, theatre became the centre of cultural attention. By the mid 1980s, nationalistic predispositions toned down in favor of the more formal explorations of the medium, whilst acquiring

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aesthetic synchronicity with (other) Western experimental practices. The shift of focus is highlighted by the development of “théâtre de recherché,” a novel theatrical phenomenon characterized by: stylistic heterogeneity, a reliance on the spectacular and the experimental, an inclination towards medial hybridization and an exploration of collaborative aspects of creativity. Thus, “théâtre de rechèrche” brought the contemporary “Québécois identity” into the international spotlight and the Québécois culture achieved a much-desired synchronicity with Western culture, while retaining its specificity. The representatives of the movement, acclaimed for the formal novelty of their artistic propositions, became part of the international circuit of theatre production and were invited regularly at prestigious Western theatre festivals. Lepage’s theatre work – the most important representative of the “théâtre de recherché” movement, at least in terms of international recognition – is (only) one example of a series of inspiring creators developing (at the time) heterogeneous and unconventional performative practices that can be interpreted as possible models for a theatre of the twenty-first century. This subchapter discusses the socio-cultural context in Québec and Lepage’s relationship with it, divided into five sub-sections: (1.1.1.) a portrait of the contemporary Québécois society as an unstable and fertile cultural terrain, with a hybrid and insecure identity in perpetual transformation; based on a historiographical contextualisation of the local theatre practice; (1.1.2.) an analysis of the ways in which this particular context influenced Lepage’s personal formation; (1.1.3.) an outline of the emancipatory aspects in Québécois theatre throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, and their impact upon the director’s development; (1.1.4.) an account of the Repère and RSVP Cycles and their influence upon the director's own artistic process; and (1.1.5) a discussion of Ex Machina – Robert Lepage’s own multi-disciplinary production company – and its relationship with Québécois culture.

1.1.1. The Québécois Cultural Context and its Theatrical Development In the introduction to his study on Robert Lepage’s cinema, Dundjerovic describes contemporary Québec as a cultural terrain both fertile and unstable, and considers the two aspects fundamental in terms of cultural production and reception in the province (2003, 2).2 The scholar 2

Dundjerovic states: “Québec as geographically part of North America is, indeed, in postmodern terms, culturally and nationally unstable terrain, made of a set of

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proposes a comparative perspective upon Lepage’s theatrical and filmic creative processes and identifies a number of influences the two media bore upon each other, as reflected in the director’s creative process and in the relationship with the Québécois culture. Regarding the specific conditions of cultural development in Québec, Dundjerovic and others3 identify, firstly, an insular predisposition, connected to the precedence of the Anglophone over the Francophone influence until the late 1950s,4 followed by an opening towards American tendencies (at play throughout the Western culture, at that time), subsequently followed by the increasingly pervasive notion of globalization. The province’s opening towards the new, external influences is directly connected to the major political shift from conservatism to liberalism provoked by the death of Prime Minister Maurice Duplessis in 1959, which lead to a societal shift from the religious to the secular and the technological. The influence of the Catholic Church, dominant until the late 1950s, was replaced by the liberal, secularized and forward thinking influence of the “Quiet Revolution” and lead, in a rather short period of time, to the construction of Québec as a modern social state. At cultural levels, isolationism and cultural protectionism, long-term symptoms of the marginalization to which the Francophone strand of the local culture had been subjected, started to be overcome. The new cultural identity, under construction, tended to define itself in terms of resistance to and confrontation between the two opposing tendencies (the Anglophone and the Francophone) and, inevitably, became characterized by hybridity.5 social contracts where the need to preserve the past collides with a pragmatic present, where a plurality of perspectives and multi-disciplinary forms thrive along modernity, protectionism and nationalism. These conflicting forces are a complex of influences that shape the conception and reception of film narrative” (2003, 2). 3 Hébert and Perelli-Contos, Fouquet, Dundjerovic and Rewa, in discussing the specificity of the cultural context, identify the continuous struggle for dominance between the Anglophone and Francophone sections of society as an important factor in the development of Québécois theatre. 4 According to Dundjerovic: “Ever since the English conquest of Québec in 1760, Catholicism, strong family values and rural life were seen to be at the core of Québécois identity. These symbols and preserves of core identity survived pressures both from outer, Anglophone culture and from the Francophone Bourgeoisie”(2003, 33). 5 Joseph and Fink postulate that: “The hybrid truth of cultural experience may lie or not in a comfortable middle ground between two cultural experiences, but the irreconcilable distance between” (1999, 250). At the same time, the scholars highlight hybridity as a “disruptive democratic discourse of cultural citizenship […] a distinctly anti-imperial and antiauthoritarian development” (1999, 1).

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May Joseph and Jennifer Natalya Fink’s assert in Performing Hybridity (1999) that: “hybridity has existed wherever civilizations conflict, combine, and synthesize” (60). According to the scholars, newly formed, hybrid identities constitute themselves as a nexus of affiliations situated at the intersection between transforming the global capital and postcolonial conditions (1999, 2). This applies in particular to the situation of Québec, where the Francophone population, although a majority, had been, for centuries, economically and culturally controlled by an Anglophone minority and, therefore, felt intensely “colonized.” Although a rather typical postcolonial behavior could be identified throughout the process of political and cultural emancipation that started in the early 1960s, the province itself chose to remain politically part of the Canadian Federation, as a Francophone “island” in an Anglophone “sea.” This provided an ongoing source of tension in certain circles of the society and led to a continuous need for definition, affirmation and recognition of an identity perceived as “authentic” and “specifically Québécois,” in spite of its hybridity. The strive towards authenticity and specificity manifested itself – as suggested above – predominantly in the cultural field. Not only through an overt political affirmation of separatist tendencies, in first instance, but, further, on through the development of a set of cultural practices aiming to highlight the “Québécois identity” as culturally unique within the Western landscape; and to ensure its recognition/validation, while securing synchronicity with the Western context. Joseph and Fink identify hybridity as a feature of art and cultural discourse in diverse geographical settings, a symptom of the “postmodern, postcolonial, and post-nationalist moment” (1999, 60). Through hybridity – scholars postulate – the “irreconcilable dualism of the colonial period gives way to postcolonial tropes drawing on diverse modalities of mixedness” (1999, 21). Thus, in the processes of hybridization, “cultural histories, origins, and fictions are eventually homogenized and the newly developed discourses gain mobility,” achieving a power that holds transformative potential, even in its ephemerality6 (21). In the case of 6

Joseph and Fink’s statement connects also to the transformative power of Lepage’s theatre as highlighted by Hebert and Perelli-Contos, Fouquet and Dundjerovic (see Introduction, pp. 3-11). According to Dundjerovic, the discovery of a specific cultural Québécois identity was particularly linked to the development of “personal” narratives, in both theatre and film, where “the ‘personal’ […] means absorbing and interweaving within the narrative pulp fiction and fragmented recollections together with plural narratives in order to construe an approach defined as ‘authentically’ Québécois” (Dundjerovic 2003, 14).

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Québec – where the emancipation process was characterized by the shift from the religious to the technological – the hybridizations at work in the cultural field included, evidently, a reliance on the technological aspect, ongoing since. Robert Lepage’s theatre, for instance, drew consistently, albeit not exclusively, on analogue visual media such as film and photography, integrating intermedially their aesthetic conventions and narrative structures within the framing medium of theatre, especially in the first two decades. Further on, the area of medial exploration diversified, in line with the digital media developments, yet maintained its focus on enhanced visuality. This seems a logical development, in line with the emancipation process of Québécois culture, particularly since cinema and newer visual media – as Joseph and Fink maintain – seem to be ideally equipped to express cultural and temporal hybridity. Scholars argue that: The cinema is temporally hybrid, for example, in an intertextual sense, in that it ‘inherits’ all the art forms and millennial traditions associated with its diverse matters of expression. [...] But the cinema is also temporally hybrid in another, more technical sense. As a technology of representation, the cinema mingles diverse times and spaces, it is produced in a constellation of times and spaces, it represents still another (diegetic) constellation of times and places, and it is received in still another time and space (theater, home classroom). Film’s conjunction of sound and image means that each track not only presents two kinds of time, but also that they mutually inflect one another in a form of synchresis. A temporal static shots can be ascribed with temporality through sound. The panoply of available cinematic techniques further multiplies these already multiple times and spaces. Superimposition redoubles the time and space, as do montage and multiple frames within the image. The capacity for palimpsestic overlays of images and sounds facilitated by the new computer and video technologies further amplifies possibilities of fracture, rupture polyphony. An electronic ‘quilting’ can weave together sounds and images in ways that break with linear single-narrative, opening up utopias (and dystopias) of infinite manipulability (Joseph and Fink 1999, 65).

Returning to the initially proposed definition of Québec as a cultural space of complexity and hybridity, a short outline of the main tendencies in the local theatre tradition, prior to the societal secularization, will identify those key elements consistent within Québécois theatre that constituted a foundation for the contemporary articulations and were integrated by different practices. As one might expect, the history of theatre in Québec does not inscribe itself in the lines of continuity, but rather in the lines of fragmentation, resistance to and confrontation with different dominant cultural models, all

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of foreign origin. At the same time, the boundaries between “alternative” and “mainstream” theatre have been blurred since the (documented) beginnings of theatre in the province. One reason would be that professional theatre in Québec has been, for a long period of time, still in its nascence, striving along with amateur theatrical endeavours as well as foreign touring companies to gain public attention and contribute to the creation of an “authentic,” vibrant cultural environment. The initial blurriness of the boundaries perpetuated throughout the decades to the extent to which, even today, a fine line between the two continues to be difficult to draw and theatre artists and/or companies that start as “alternative” step-up to “mainstream” quite frequently. Moreover, although theatre in Québec has a tradition less solid and a history much shorter than Western tradition, its life has, nevertheless, been intense. Influenced by Western European, mainly French, and American models of practice, its development, nevertheless, took a different shape than the initial models Quebecers sought to emulate. Fouquet’s thesis identifies three key aspects relevant to the development of Québécois professional theatre: the spectacular, the collective and the experimental (2002, 20). It is useful to note that all three are marked to various extents by hybridity and are directly identifiable in Lepage’s creative practice. Tracing down the historical routes of theatre in Québec, Fouquet maintains that professional activity consisted predominantly in hosting foreign tours at least until 1898. According to the scholar, at the end of nineteenth century, Montreal and Québec-City – the two major cities of the Canadian dominion – were integrated into the circuit of American touring and became more frequently visited once the railways were built in 1880. The two cities became “one week stands,” hosting foreign shows. Three main distributors, sharing the NorthAmerican territory, organized all the tours in the province. Montreal, their main target, was considered a city with a more cosmopolitan vocation, compared to Québec-City, categorized as isolationist and not really “able” to respond to the serious genre. Consequently, at the time, Québec-City hosted mostly commercial and variety shows (Fouquet 2002, 20-22). Thus, one can safely assert that professional theatre in Québec lacked local specificity; it was mainly – as Fouquet suggests – a theatre “sous tutelle” (2002, 22). A significant change occurred in 1898, with the opening of the first Francophone theatre establishment, configured as a space with potential for a theatre of French-Québécois expression and, thus, setting the basis for the development of a local practice in which the use of the language had political connotations (Fouquet 2002, 22). One could argue that the

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two major influences in the modern theatre of Québec – the American and the French – found a space of manifestation within the local practice, and, moreover, that the Québécois theatrical landscape operated traditionally between the two opposing tendencies. On the one hand, there was the American-Anglophone theatre, mainly of import, dominated by vaudeville, operettas, or, occasionally, more “legitimate” performances such as: melodramas, comedies, or historical dramas. On the other hand, the nascent Francophone theatre, with a repertory based on the European model and aiming towards a more homogenous practice, was connected to ideas of political engagement and used theatre as a discreetly subversive tool towards the articulation of a national identity struggling to emerge. The two opposing models functioned in parallel for an extended period of time, creating latent, yet cumulative cultural tensions and leading – at the moment of societal emancipation – to an imperious need for the definition, through artistic expression, of a specific local “Québécois identity,” unitary, yet based on hybridity, in line with the postcolonial logic articulated by Joseph and Fink. In terms of staging, however (or mise-en-scene avant-la-lettre), both (Anglophone and Francophone strands) were tributary to a drive towards the spectacular, aiming to satisfy the popular taste of the time. Visual effects, impressive sets and newly discovered wizardries of the stage machinery were used with preference for the delight of the audiences. According to Fouquet, the focus was not on virtuous acting, or on the sophistication of the narrative, but rather on the spectacular, visual aspects of performance, in the attempt to be both accessible and appealing to the popular audience (2002, 22-24). In other words, theatre acted as a medium and technology of distractions, with enhanced focus on visuality, and the traditional professional practice in Québec relied on theatre’s genuine mediality, proposing performances preoccupied to address the needs and expectations of the local audience. A reliance on technological means (i.e. stage machinery) can also be identified/highlighted. Thus, in terms of production, a certain formalism avant-la-lettre, a penchant towards technological wizardry and a focus on the spectacular – enhancing visuality and highlighting the possibilities of the theatrical apparatus – were situated at the core of the nascent Québécois tradition. The fascination with the spectacular was going to partly loose momentum in the 1930s, when influences coming from the European historical avant-garde rippled off to Québec and the idea of the theatre director as auteur started to gain momentum in Western culture. After World War II, numerous theatrical institutions were established in the province. In the decade that marked the advent of television in the Western

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world (1950s–1960s) a Francophone repertoire, of local provenience, gained visibility, whilst, in parallel, professional theatre schools started to develop. An experimental vein, strongly influenced by Artaud’s ideas on theatre and the French theatrical avant-garde, took shape through the works of Claude Gavreau or Carl Dubuc (Fouquet 2002, 25). The 1960s7 and the decade that followed marked a turning point in the evolution of the Québécois society and, in this process – as suggested before –, theatre played a significant role. As a reaction to the longstanding and dominant American and French influences, the local theatre, animated by leftist and nationalistic ideals, started to claim the necessity of a Québécois dramaturgy. Michel Tremblay’s Le Belles Sœurs (1968) became the flagship of a veritable crusade for national identity (Fouquet 2002, 26). Theatre itself, as a cultural institution, became central for the local public sphere, providing a space for intense political and cultural debate, in which national and cultural identities were negotiated in relation to secularized influences and in which the awareness of differences rather than of similarities towards other cultures started to be acknowledged. Thus, one can state that theatre acted as a transformative medium that contributed to the emergence/articulation of the “Québécois identity.” The societal emancipation process initiated by the Quiet Revolution brought to the surface an imperious need for a discourse able to express the conflicts, aspirations and values of a nation without a state – as Québec was/is often described by local “patriotic” discourse –; theatre became a way of “establishing and maintaining Québec’s national and collective self” and the French language, in its Québécois version, “became the essence of national identity, replacing the role of the Church” (Dundjerovic 2003, 12). Nowadays still, although the situation of Québec is (by far) more relaxed politically and the Québécois culture has gained substantial recognition – both nationally and internationally – the “Québécois identity” remains characterized by “a continuous resistance towards oppression – from colonialism, hegemony, and capitalism” and a constant preoccupation “to preserve and continue its sense of national self” (Dundjerovic 2003, 33). Much like other “minor” cultures bordering their “major”8 counterparts, the Québécois culture has an unstable relationship with its surroundings, holding the position of a culture trapped between its 7

1960 was the year of the Quiet Revolution lead by the liberal government of Jean Lesage, which made a quick and effective impact in terms of societal developments. 8 In this case: the North American, French, and English cultures, the later in its Canadian version.

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past and its present, situated in a permanent state of transition/ transformation, and recurrently questioning its own identity (Dundjerovic 2003, 33). Thus, one could safely argue that contemporary culture in Québec continues to manifest itself as a hybrid, yet fertile terrain for creative endeavors, and a space in quasi-continuous transformation, even though the socio-political agendas of the 1960s and 1970s have lost, meanwhile, their sense of emergency. As (arguably) the most famous representative of the Québécois theatre, whose time and creative energy are divided between original work developed at Ex Machina (his home-based company) and directing performances commissioned by major theatre and/or opera houses throughout the world, Lepage defines Québec, and his relationship with it, in a rather paradoxical manner: “a closed, insular, incestuous society” that he is “very proud to be part of” (Lepage in Ouzounian 1997). On the one hand, the director’s paradoxical definition denotes critical distance; he describes himself as an outsider inside his own culture, based on his upbringing and the frequent professional travels outside Québec. On the other hand, it suggests a lasting emotional commitment to a birthplace with a problematic and unstable cultural identity that, nevertheless, constitutes an inspiring and productive source of artistic challenge. Lepage highlights that, even if trends of nationalism and isolationist tendencies persist, a positive change occurred in the quasi-continuous redefinition of the “Québécois identity” due to the impact of digital media and especially the Internet.9 According to the director: “Le québécois a été longtemps un hybride, et il est devenu baroque, il a les qualités du baroque”10 (Bisonnette 1989, 75). In other words, hybridity and complexity – the notions suggested at the beginning of this section as definitory for the cultural context in Québec – are acknowledged as perene and quintessential to the province’s cultural identity.

1.1.2. Robert Lepage’s Formation Before taking further the brief historical outline of theatre in Québec (in section 1.3, below) it is useful to highlight that the political and cultural 9

Interviewed by Time Magazine Lepage stated: “I never use the Web, but I believe its spread is part of the reason why Québecers are so abruptly questioning their identity and coming to such new conclusions. New technology leaves no room for xenophobia. How can Québec sell its Internet products if it continues to have an isolationist image?” (Lepage 1999). 10 In English: “The Québecer was for a very long time a hybrid and has now become baroque, has acquired the qualities of the baroque” (author’s trans.).

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tensions at play within the Québécois society impacted upon Lepage’s upbringing to an even greater extent as he was raised in a bilingual household,11 and in Québec-City, a town known, at the time, for its conservative, isolationist tendencies. Dundjerovic states: When Lepage was growing up, in the 1960s and 1970s, Québec was still influenced by clerical control over the government. Traditionally there was a division and tension between Québec-City and Montreal. Québec- City was an old city, a strong nationalist centre, where national identity meant being catholic, white and French; while Montréal, due to immigration during post-war years, had a plurality of cultures informing its national identity through linguistic and ethnic tensions (2003, 11).

The experience of growing up in a conservative city and, moreover, in a bilingual and bi-cultural family seems to have offered valuable insight, for Lepage, into being an insider and an outsider at the same time. Furthermore, by developing most of his original work in Québec-City and only then touring nationally and internationally, Lepage “acquired the ability to transpose one cultural understanding into another” (Dundjerovic 2003, 51). In other words, the Québécois environment – hybrid, complex and imbued with nationalist or isolationist tendencies – provided Lepage with a particular position of dual perception. This perception is reflected in his theatre practice both at the level of the narrative – characterized by a hybridity of themes, styles and points of view – and in terms of the complex dialogue established with diverse audiences, in Québec and/or around the world. Dundjerovic describes Lepage’s theatre as: “unfixed and perpetually transformative […] a work in progress that feeds from the cultural specificities of the different locations where it is performed” (2003, 51).12 The scholar argues that, by developing narratives based on 11

According to Charest, Lepage was: “born in 1957 in Québec-City to a workingclass French-Canadian family, which had already adopted two English-Canadian children” (1997, 10). Lepage, however, has another sibling, younger than himself. The two older siblings were raised as English-Canadians and went to English schools, therefore spoke English as maternal language; the two younger children of the family went to French schools, spoke French and considered themselves French-Canadians. This situation led to a bi-lingual upbringing and inevitable tensions within the family that mirrored, to a certain extent, the tensions at play within the Québécois society. For further details on Lepage’s bi-lingual upbringing see Charest’s interview book with the director: Robert Lepage: Connecting Flights (1997). 12 In this respect, Lepage confesses in Robert Lepage: Connecting Flights that his obsession with discovering other cultures is intimately linked to the in-depth

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both the personal and the collective, the notion of memory becomes key to Lepage’s theatre (Dundjerovic 2003, 25) and issues of identity, whether personal or collective, are constantly highlighted. The aspects outlined above emphasize the influence of the cultural and social context in Québec upon Lepage’s formation. At the same time, they highlight the director’s preoccupation for what it means to be “Québécois,” in relation to the world. In addition, it has to be noted that a certain distancing can be identified in Lepage’s relation with the local theatre practice, at the time of his formation, reflected not only by his refusal to engage with the cultural separatist agenda, but also by his formal/aesthetic reluctance towards naturalism, the dominant influence in the local theatre practice at the time. This dominance functioned as an important limitation for the theatre-maker, especially at the early stages of his career, and was to be overcome first through further training in diverse improvisational and devising techniques and, later on, through the development of his own creative process, which includes a particular perspective upon acting and the notion of emotional involvement/ identification, for both performers and audiences. Lepage confessed in an interview in Actualité: J`avais un problème de rapproche qui s’est transformé en … capital artistique. […] Le gens pensent que l’émotion s’exprime d’une façon : si le comédien vit l’émotion. C’est l’une des façons d’approcher l’émotion au théâtre, mais ce n’est pas la seule. Les acteurs peuvent être complètement froids. L’émotion du spectacle n’est pas seulement faite de l’âme des comédiens, elle est faite de l’âme de beaucoup de monde, de beaucoup de choses, c’est une alchimie qui est totale (1993, 47).13

discovery of the Québécois culture (Charest 1997, 49) and that the meeting with other cultures strengthens his connection with his own culture. Lepage maintains: “The meetings and exchanges I have abroad enrich my work and the work of my company, work that remains profoundly Québécois. This is what motivated me to return to the province of Québec and more precisely to Québec-City, where I grew up and which inspires me. […] It’s from Québec that I want to make contact with the rest of the world” (1997, 50). 13 In English: “I had a problem of approach that turned into ... artistic capital. […] People tend to think that emotion is expressed in one way: if the actor lives it. This is one way to approach emotion in theatre, but it is not the only way. Actors can be completely cold. Emotion in performance is not only made of the soul of the actors, it is made of the soul of many other people involved, and of many other things, it's an alchemy that is complete” (author’s trans.).

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In other words, the premises for the development of a particular relationship with audience(s), both in terms of performing and dialogue, are connected to the complex cultural context in Québec and can be traced down in a nexus of filiations identified (also) by the director himself (as highlighted above). Thus, one could assert that – at the time of Lepage’s formation – theatre in Québec was a medium: (a) intensely involved politically in the definition of a “Québécois identity,” mainly through the use of the local idiom as a tool towards the affirmation of the culture’s “specificity”; (b) substantially indebted, particularly in mainstream, to naturalistic conventions coming from European French theatre practice; and (c) circulating alternative/experimental models of theatre-making of Western European, or American provenience. All these elements, active within the local theatrical landscape, impacted upon Lepage’s formation and lead to an apparently paradoxical positioning, both as insider and an outsider in his own culture. However – as it will be argued further – the aspect that seems to have impacted most significantly in the development of Lepage’s creative approach connects to the emancipation of Québécois theatre in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

1.1.3. The Emancipation of Québécois Theatre By the early 1970s, the “alternative” theatre scene in Québec was already focused on the exploration of diverse creation practices (of import), and started to experiment with the integration of other media into the framing medium of theatre, a process that would lead, in the following decade, to the establishment of “théâtre de recherché” as a specific local strand. The American model of “collective creation” had been mainly adapted to serve the needs of the emerging “specificity” of the “Québécois identity.” A new dramaturgy, politically engaged and using the local idiom flourished,14 generating significant audience response and placing the medium of theatre at the centre of the local public sphere. The strong desire to appropriate other contemporary theatre techniques and styles, originated outside Québec, in order to overcome an acute provincial syndrome and develop a self-sufficient local practice, lead to an emancipation from the previously dominant traditional Anglophone and 14

Fouquet maintains that starting with 1968 dramatic texts by Québec based playwrights – such as Rejean Ducharme, Roland Lepage, André Ricard, Meslay, Gavreau, Barbeau, Germain, etc. – were staged more frequently, although the main elements of the repertoire remained still the classical plays of European provenience (2002, 29).

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Francophone models. In other words, a “decolonized” theatre practice, playing on strategies of mixed-ness and hybridity and responsive to the complex challenges of contemporary spectatorship started to emerge. “Collective creation” – as a form of cultural resistance against societal and artistic discourses considered oppressive and a theatrical technique through which performers had the opportunity to express their own ideas and values – functioned as an empowering factor, leading to a newly developed dramaturgy that gave a voice to the hybrid, until then marginal, “Québécois identity.” The strong audience response to the formal novelty of such explorations made theatre very popular in Québec in the 1970s (Dundjerovic 2003, 15). Thus, parallel to the flourishing of the “collective creation,” experimental practices that integrated the “technological” and/or aimed to explore theatre’s mediality took a real impetus in Québec by the end of the decade. With a lesser focus on the societal, these practices highlighted a strong preoccupation for the formal aspects of the theatrical apparatus, its spectacular possibilities as well as for the exploration of the processual aspects of creation. The theories of: Adolphe Appia, Gordon Craig, Vsevolod Meyerhold, Antonin Artaud, Bertolt Brecht, Eugenio Barba, etc.; rather recently “imported” to Québec, became the object of study and debate as specialized theatre magazines started to emerge. Several Québec based artists – amongst which Gilles Maheu, Robert Lepage, Michel Poletti, etc. – took specialization stages in Europe, bringing back freshly acquired theatrical knowledge. Based on the plethora of new influences, theatre-makers in Québec engaged with the experimental. A self-reflexive perspective upon the theatrical process emerged locally, with the ambition towards synchronicity with its Western experimental counterpart. A keen interest occurred for inter- and/or multi-disciplinary approaches that attempted to innovatively integrate – through hybridizations, intertwinings and juxtapositions at thematic and formal levels – a diverse range of media within the framing medium of theatre. Enhanced corporeality and a renewed focus on visuality were prioritized inside the theatrical experimentations, thus, implicitly, reconnecting, across decades, the contemporary practice with the key aspects of the local tradition. All the above became elements characteristic of the alternative theatre scene in Québec at the time of Lepage’s professional formation.15 15 Carbone 14 and Nouveau Théâtre Expérimental (NTE) – two companies established and quite successful at that time – rapidly became milestones of the Québécois experimental theatre. Their work, according to Fouquet, “nourished” itself mainly from everyday life – TV, work, consummer’s society – and proposed the work-in-progress format, thus enticing audiences to engage with the

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In 1978, at the moment of graduation from the Conservatoire d’Art Dramatique de Québec, Lepage had to find his place into this dynamic and hybrid theatrical landscape, especially since his abilities as a naturalistic actor have repeatedly been questioned throughout his period as a student and, therefore, becoming an institutionalized actor was not an option. The director’s professional trajectory was, however, rather sinuous at the beginning. Dundjerovic paints the portrait of young Lepage as an emerging professional as follows: Lepage was involved in a number of small experimental theatre groups on collective creations. Unable to find work in official mainstream theatre or film, he was considered by his professors at the academy to be a sort of ‘Jack of all trades,’ able to do most things well, but excelling in none. Lepage had a natural gift for games and excelled in improvisation events and performances that were, similar to sports, unpredictable and offered no defined outcome. He was never good at official, mainstream theatre or film. […] He never saw himself as an actor but rather as a player, improviser and author, a performer who does not rely on traditional verbal language but utilizes the language of a medium as a main communicational device. This approach led to his multi-disciplinary and multi-cultural theatre work that extended into his films (2003, 15).

It was not until the meeting with theatre-maker Jean Lessard and the affiliation with Théâtre Repère at the beginning the 1980s, that Lepage’s theatrical talent was able to find an appropriate platform for expression. Nevertheless, one can state that this period of transition, which comprises more steps than the ones summarized here, was more than useful for the diversity of experience acquired.16 In 1980, after the failure of the nationalist referendum in Québec, the issue of national identity, strongly related in theatre to the use of the local idiom and the impact of the spoken word, became secondary and, with this, the number of performances based on “collective creation” diminished, although elements of the “collective” have been retained in a range of experimental practices. The focus shifted (almost entirely) on the exploration of styles and techniques celebrating the experimental, the hybrid and spectacular, as well as on engaging with the possibilities of performances at different stages of their development. Inevitably, the focus of the mise-en-scene shifted on visuality. In fact, the companies operated with either no text or with a fragmentary text, most often in English, and with a multi-national cast, as was the case with Carbone 14 (Fouquet 2002, 34). 16 For more details regarding Lepage’s professional involvement during this period see Appendix A.

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contemporary media and their related technologies, in relation to theatre. The research, explorative aspect of the novel and hybrid set of local practices was strongly connected to spectatorial perception, searching for means to enhance it, in order to maintain the strong connection between audiences and the local theatre scene that had manifested so vividly in the early 1970s. The birth of Théâtre Repère, in 1980, was in line with this tendency. The Repère Cycles and the creative method developed there, an appropriation of Anna and Lawrence Halprin’s RSVP Cycles, retained methodological aspects pertaining to “collective creation” and, most importantly, the notion of collective authorship, but combined it with the newly found focus on research, on the cognitive aspects of the theatrical process and a practical, on stage, exploration of multi-sensorial perception throughout the process of creation.

1.1.4. Théâtre Repère and the Repère/RSVP Cycles Any discussion of Théâtre Repère’s creative methodology needs to start from the consideration that the Repère Cycles and the resulting performances played an important role in the elaboration of the heterogeneous “théâtre de recherché” starting with the 1980s. As mentioned already in the Introduction, Hébert and Perelli-Contos connect theoretically the “théâtre de rechèrche” in Québec with the wider strand of “theatre of the image,” and consider it a point of synchronicity between the local theatre practice and the wider Western phenomenon. In “De la Mimesis à la Mixis ou les jeux analogiques du théâtre actuel” (1997) scholars define both strands as relying on the primacy of image and its composing elements: light, color, shape, movement, rhythm, actor’s body, etc. The focus on visuality, in both cases, relates to the search for an altered/enhanced spectatorial perspective. Nevertheless, the Québec based practices brought their own “specificity.” Scholars postulate that “théâtre de rechèrche:” [P]rocéderait à un immense brassage d’éléments hétérogènes, à une déconstruction, pour permettre au spectateur de mieux comprendre les pièces du mécanisme, notamment celui de la création. C’est ainsi qu’un art autonome prendrait vie et corps sous les yeux du spectateur, lequel aurait le sentiment de capter le moment fugitif de la fusion, de la création, ou d’y assister. (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 1997, 33)17 17 In English: “Proceeded to a impressive patchwork/editing of heterogeneous elements, a deconstruction, in order to allow the viewer to better understand the parts of the theatrical mechanism and especially the process of creation. This is

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The hybridizing technique proved novel and transformative, exploring change at all levels. Its basic principle – the research/explorative aspect – replaced the traditional principles of theatre production, significantly altering the theatrical process. Moreover the main focus was not on the finite product – the representation –, but on the processual aspects. This – as Hébert and Perelli-Contos argue – meant enhanced freedom for the creators and opened up the possibility for all sorts of associations, for a mixing of elements from other arts. In sum, interdisciplinarity; using, as core principle, the interplay of potentialities materialized through combinations and recombinations that appeared, at times, unusual, or even far-fetched, all striving towards the articulation of an original theatrical discourse (Hébert and Perelli-Contos’ 1997, 36-37). The new mise-enscene strategies were developed directly on stage, in the rehearsalimprovisational process. The collaborative aspect was also heightened; all participants to the production of performance – actors, director, designers, technicians, etc. – were actively and (potentially) equally involved in the creative process. Thus, all intra- and inter-medial elements involved in the development of the performance were given equal consideration, explored and, ultimately, used for their performative qualities in relation to the focus chosen. The actual written text that resulted from this process was rather a blueprint of production than a dramatic text, and its authors were, in fact, the members of the entire creative team. In “Voyage(s) métaphorique(s) et décalage(s) perceptif(s)” Hébert and Perelli-Contos detail further: Libérée de ce point de vue directeur (d’un auteur, d’un metteur en scène ou d’une institution) et surtout émancipée de tout sens pré assigné, l’écriture scénique tient dans la plupart des cas, en un jeu de transformations, de mises en relation, de combinaisons d’éléments disparates et hétérogènes qui s’offrent comme autant de ressources sensibles et concrètes, potentiellement exploitables tout au long du processus du création théâtrale et du processus du réception. De ces assemblages résulte un « texte » uniquement spectaculaire qui, en se déployant directement sur la scène et dans l’immédiateté de l’acte théâtral, rappelle le caractère inévitablement éphémère du théâtre en tant qu’art vivant, précisément en ce qu’il est dynamique et non pas statique, processus et non pas produit (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2001a, 265-66, emphasis in original).18 how an autonomous art came to life and materialised under the eyes of the spectators, who would have the sensation of capturing the fleeting moment of creation, the fusion of elements, or even to contribute to it” (author’s trans.). 18 In English: “Freed from a guiding point of view (of a playwright, director, or institution) and above all emancipated from any pre-assigned meaning, the scenic

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Théâtre Repère, active in Québec-City between 1980 and 1994, contributed to the articulation of this new theatrical strand. Jacques Lessard, the artistic director and one of the founders of the company, developed the Repère Cycles – an appropriation of the RSVP Cycles originally designed in the United States by dancer Ann Halprin and architect Lawrence Halprin.19 Dundjerovic outlines the main characteristics of the original Cycles and the changes operated by Lessard: RSVP Cycles are rooted in the American performance tradition of John Cage (music) and Merce Cunningham (dance), which broke away from conceptualization, emphasizing the personal and chance. The essential elements of this way of working are founded on collective work, spontaneous playfulness, accidental discovery, free association, impropriations from resources, simulations, multiple actions, absence of narrative structure and character. Therefore, RSVP Cycles allow personal freedom in restructuring material that is in the process of creation–or translation into another medium. ‘RSVP’ consists of four parts: ‘Resource’ (Motivation/, material), ‘Score’ (process), ‘Valuaction’ (selection) and ‘Performance’ (presentation in progress). Lessard turned these fundamentally dance-oriented processes into a model that can be used in the theatre devising process – Re (resource), Pé (Partiture experimental and partiture synthesis) and Re (representation). […] The RSVP method is not arranged as an indicator of implied structure or hierarchy, but because it represents a communicational idea suggesting audience responses. The parts are flexible and can be used in any given order. The arrangement of the letters into RSVP stands for ‘Réspondez s’il vous plait’ – please respond (2003, 23). writing becomes, in most cases, a set of transformations, inter-relations, and combinations of disparate, heterogeneous elements that constitute themselves as concrete and sensitive resources, potentially exploitable throughout the creative and receptive process. Of these associations results a ‘text’ that is uniquely spectacular, which, by its direct deployment on stage and the immediacy of the theatrical act, evoques the inevitably ephemeral nature of theatre as lively art form, a form alive precisely because it is dynamic and not static, process and not product” (author’s trans.). 19 Ann and Lawrence Halprin elaborated on their experience of the RSVP Cycles in The RSVP Cycles: Creative Processes in the Human Environment (1969). The book focuses on the development and performative use of scores as a way to embody and record the process of human creativity. Dundjerovic rightfully maintains that scores are not “the final product but the recording of a creative process that can exist in a number of different media and can have various applications. RSVP Scores are structures that evolve in a cyclical manner, making all structures flexible to change and open to transformation” (2003, 22).

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Thus, the process opens the potential for performances of intermedial nature and includes, in order to ensure a holistic approach, a feedback loop circuit that integrates the audience’s response,20 from which derives its cyclical nature. The outcome of the Repère method – and of RSVP Cycles, at that – constituted itself into a plurality of narratives and stylistic approaches, depending on the themes explored and the constitution of the teams that contributed to the various performances, and become a testimony for the method’s potential to provide an inclusive platform for the innovative exploration of theatre as a medium. To the practice of Théâtre Repère, with its significant possibilities for creative freedom, Lepage brought “his own intuitive method of spontaneous creativity” (Dundjerovic 2003, 23). As a member of Théâtre Repère, the director developed his own approach of “writing-directly-onstage” relying on a mixture of uncanny imagination and daring improvisation, which became part of his artistic signature.21 At a formal level, the hybridization of different medial elements and esthetic conventions within the framing medium of theatre was central to experimentation, whilst, in terms of narrative, hybridizing elements of the personal and the collective and, implicitly, attempting to connect the Québécois culture to the Western matrix were in focus. Throughout most of the 1980s, Lepage was part of the Théâtre Repère team, as a lead actor and director, and developed a number of original performances22 that quickly brought him, and the company, into the international spotlight. Circulations (1984) was Lepage’s first original performance to gain national recognition and open the doors for international touring. However, the real – and impressive, at that – international breakthrough occurred with The Trilogy of Dragons (1985),23 20 In this particular instance I refer not only to the regular audience, invited (occasionally) to take part into the feedback process, but to all the participants involved in the creative process, invited, at particular times, to play the part of audience throughout the improvisational/rehearsal process, in order to provide feedback, which functioned as a “Resource” to further the creative cycle. 21 A strong influence upon Lepage’s particular use of improvisation techniques was constituted by the three-week stage at Alain Knapp's theatre school in Paris in 1978. The Swiss theatre practitioner and educator was already renowned for his emphasis on the multiple creative roles of a theatre artist within performance and was an ardent promoter of improvisational techniques, which he considered to be the foundation of any theatrical process. 22 A list of the most successful original performances developed at Théâtre Repère includes: Circulations (1984), The Trilogy of Dragons (1985), Vinci (1986), Polygraph (1987), Tectonic Plates (1988) and Needles and Opium (1991). 23 For a list of tours, see Appendix A.

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a performance considered, by critics and theatre scholars alike, a milestone in Québécois theatre, for the originality of its approach. It should be highlighted that, in fact, all original creations developed by Lepage at Théâtre Repère aimed, at the same time, to address the Québécois audience and gain international attention towards the company’s inclusion into the Western theatre circuit. For this – as Dundjerovic maintains – Lepage used “fundamentally Québécois stories,” yet he developed “an artistic language that communicated these stories to an international audience” (2003, 16); a language reliant on visuality and based on intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene that intended to challenge and stimulate audiences coming from the most diverse cultural contexts. To this end, all performances bore widely known influences from popular genres like cinema, television, music, etc., and were, with no exception, multi-lingual. As a result of Lepage’s international breakthrough starting with 1985, and the success of the performances bearing his signature, Théâtre Repère became acknowledged by international mass-media as “Robert Lepage’s theatre”. Moreover, the director was often commissioned24 by prestigious theatre and opera institutions from Western Europe and Japan, with significant production budgets. Gradually, his involvement with the company became limited. The collective nature of the work developed at Théâtre Repère became rather irrelevant for the public, due to Lepage’s newly acquired international status as an avant-garde theatre-maker. In addition, creative differences/tensions started to surface within the company. According to Lepage and others (see Lorraine Coté below), Lessard’s approach became less and less oriented towards developing original performances and the possibilities of inter- or multi-medial theatre and more focused on the appropriation/re-writing of existing dramatic texts, whilst the internationally successful Lepage took the opposite stand within the company. The situation created led to a gradual split. On the issue of the increasing incompatibility between Lepage and Lessard’s professional agendas, the Québec based actress and former member of Théâtre Repère Lorraine Coté observes: L’histoire de Repère a toujours été un peu compliquée. C’était presque deux compagnies en une : Robert d’un coté, Jacques [Lessard] de l’autre. Et chacun avait sa démarche, même s’il y a des liens. Après l’aventure de la Trilogie des Dragons on a tenté de se rassembler en un comité de programmation, pour soutenir Jacques Lessard, mais il y avait une sorte 24

For a complete list of the performances directed by Lepage during that period, see Appendix A.

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d’incompatibilité. On n’avait pas vraiment travaillé avec lui et sa méthode des ‘Cycles Repère’, on l’avait utilisée mis adaptée. Robert Lepage travaillait aussi avec certaines techniques d’Alain Knapp […]. On a tenté d’établir une double direction artistique (Jacques Lessard et Marie Cignac), mais ça n’a pas marché. Alors, tranquillement tout le monde est parti (Lavoie 1994, 86).25

As a result, Lepage’s collaboration with the company came to an end.26 After several years of working predominantly abroad, as a free-lance director, and four years of artistic directorate at the National Arts Centre for Theatre in Ottawa (1989 – 1993), based on the experience acquired, Lepage decided to return to Québec-City and establish his own multidisciplinary company. Thus, Ex Machina Company was established as the place where all the director’s original work would be developed, in coproduction with other, widely acclaimed institutions pertaining to the Western theatre circuit. In discussing his decision, the director notes: To be a good observer, or a good user of these phenomena,27 I’ve decided to create a new company called Ex Machina. Of course, the name indicates that we believe in the machine, that we believe that we can extract miracles out of technology. […] I used to be a part of a company called Théâtre Repère in the good old days when we used to do theater in a very 25 In English: “The history of Repère has always been a bit complicated. It was almost like there were two companies in one: Robert on one side, Jacques [Lessard] on the other. Each had his own approach, although there were connections between the two. After the adventure with The Dragons' Trilogy, we all tried to establish a programming committee, to support Jacques Lessard, but there was some sort of incompatibility. We had not really worked with him and his ‘Repère Cycles’ method; it had always been used in an adapted manner. Robert Lepage also worked with certain techniques borrowed from Alain Knapp. [...] We tried to establish then a dual artistic directorship (with Jacques Lessard and Marie Cignac), but this did not work. So everyone left quietly” (author’s trans.). 26 On this matter, Lepage also states in Robert Lepage: Connect Flights: “The problem was that the success of my projects took over and somewhat strangled Repère. Our priorities shifted to touring our shows, and the members whose work wasn’t designed for touring were sort of shut out. Very soon, there were two Repères. At first, we saw this as an asset, telling ourselves that we had a local home-based division, involved in research and pedagogy and run by Jacques Lessard, and an international division, which generated the theatre’s reputation and toured and was funded. But these two divisions couldn’t continue to live together and a serious conflict arose” (Charest 1997, 144). 27 Lepage refers here to the intermedial phenomena at work in contemporary artistic practice or, in the director’s own terms, the “crossbreeding” of different media that he discusses further on, in the excerpt quoted.

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1.1.5. Ex Machina and its Relationship with the Québécois Identity According to Lepage, the idea of establishing his own home-based company matured in 1993, right after leaving the directorate of the National Arts Centre for Theatre in Ottawa. The director’s aim was to setup a creative space that functioned as a laboratory for an open exploration of different media and arts within the framing medium of theatre and to contribute to what this present study argues that is, in fact, a remediation of contemporary performance practice. The agreement between Lepage and his long-term collaborators who were asked to join the project in 1994, was that the word “theatre” should not be part of the title of the newly established centre, as a sign of its intended multi-disciplinarity. The title of the company was to signal an explicitly technological ethos for a creative space in which artists from the most diverse areas of performance would work together in an openly explorative manner: Ex Machina's creative team believes that theatre needs new blood. That the performing art-dance, opera, music-should be mixed with recorded artsfilmmaking, video art and multimedia. That there must be meetings between scientists and playwrights, between set painters and architects, and between artists from Québec and the rest of the world. New artistic forms will surely emerge from these gatherings. Ex Machina wants to rise to the challenge and become a laboratory, an incubator for a form of theatre that will reach and touch audiences from this new millennium (Ex Machina 2006).

Nowadays, the discourse of the company remains consistent in its quintessential terms, yet the wording has been slightly adapted to accommodate the new tendencies in performance. The notion of “new blood” for theatre has been abandoned, as the focus shifted towards hybridity and the development of the field of performing arts, which, by now, includes potential crossovers between arts and sciences (Ex Machina 2013). It becomes evident that, in establishing Ex Machina, Lepage’s long term goal was to create a space where the horizon of theatrical

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experimentation could be widened through the constant exploration of inter- and multi-disciplinary possibilities, tackling various combinations of the “live” and the “mediatized.” Lepage’s own creative process, articulated during the affiliation with Théâtre Repère, was to find fresh and potentially fertile ground for further development. Regarding the choice of name for the company Lepage nuances: Ex Machina comes from Deux ex Machina. We wanted to emphasize the technological aspect of performance art, and to really make a statement that we’re not necessarily a theatre company any more than we are a performing arts company, and that video artists, actors, writers, opera singers and puppeteers are invited into our company. […] The goals of Ex Machina are to create not only a physical space, but also a symbolic or imaginary space where we can develop performance arts (McAlpine 1996, 153).

Consequently, La Caserne (formerly La Caserne Dalhousie) – the space especially refurbished for the Ex Machina Company – was configured mainly as a laboratory space, an “editing room” for inter- and multi-disciplinary explorations, rather than a space for performing. Institutionally, Ex Machina was designed to function as the main production company for all original performances by Lepage, as well coproduce (from afar) many of the shows the director was commissioned to elaborate on other stages of the world, thus securing both prestige and additional financial revenue, which was then used for the development of Lepage’s own original productions. Parallel to this, Ex Machina benefited from constant and substantial subsidy from local and national institutions of profile.28 Additionally, in order to ensure appropriate financial support for all its productions, the company invited prestigious festivals or theatre institutions, mainly foreign and of Western provenience, as co-producers, in the terms established by Ex Machina.29 These included the following key aspects: (1) freedom of approach regarding the subject explored and the artistic means used within the process, (2) freedom of choice regarding the collaborators for each production, (3) a self-managed timetable of the creative process, and (4) a significant percentage of the financial revenues to be retained by the company in order to be re-invested in further Ex Machina productions. All the above, desiderates at the beginning, turned into a reality of practice, as the company’s records attest since 1997. 28

Ex Machina has been regularly funded, since its establishment, by the Canada Council for the Arts, Québec's Arts and Literature Council and the City of Québec. 29 See Appendix A for details of co-producers involved in the most successful original creations by Lepage.

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Nevertheless, establishing Ex Machina on the “ruins” of the old building “La Caserne Dalhousie”30 proved an ambitious and timeconsuming endeavor that was to be accomplished only with substantial financial support from the local government, a support that continued even after the official opening of the centre, in June 2 1997. In “States of Play: Locating Québec in the performances of Robert Lepage, Ex Machina and the Cirque du Soleil” (1999) Jennifer Harvey and Erin Curley observe: Québec governments have formalized the link further still by backing up their cultural rhetoric with financial investments, which facilitates touring but also established Québec as a node on an international performance network. In 1997/98 and 1998/99 respectively, Ex Machina received 60,000 dollars and 127,000 dollars from the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec for taking The Seven Streams of River Ota and The Geometry of Miracles on tour outside Québec. For their Québec City Caserne, Ex Machina garnered even more generous funding: a total of 5 million Canadian dollars from the provincial government and the City of Québec combined (1999, 303, emphasis in original).

Scholars consider the ongoing financial support for Ex Machina as part of the governmental strategy to counterbalance Lepage’s reservations related to the official Québécois discourse, and an attempt to appropriate his

30

Ex Machina official website described La Caserne Dalhousie as a space with its own symbolically sinuous history: “As early as 1828, it was home to the QuébecCity's very first stock exchange, simply called ‘the Québec Exchange,’ and built on land that was already claimed from the St. Lawrence River. In early 20th Century, firehouse no.5 was built on the ruins of the stock exchange, which had recently moved to Montréal. The new building, which had no foundations, rested on wooden beams driven into the ground, allowing it to avoid the pressure caused by infiltration of water from the River. [new paragraph] Architect Georges-Émile Tanguay (who also built Québec's-City Hall) created a spectacular ‘Second Empire’ façade, flanked by a high tower whose only function was to hang the fire hoses for drying. Inside were the firemen's sleeping quarters, stables and enough room for four horse drawn tank trucks. In the early 80s, firehouse no.5 was left in a state of abandonment. After a few years, the building had begun to sink in the soft ground thrown over the river waters 150 years before. [new paragraph] In 1993, the City of Québec offered Ex Machina the possibility of turning the place into an artistic production centre. With the help of contractor Lauréat Pépin, engineer Louis Larouche and stage design specialist Michel Gosselin, architects Jacques Plante and Marc Julien were in charge of transforming the building and adding a modern touch to George-Émile Tanguay's exhaustively restored design. [new paragraph] La Caserne Dalhousie was inaugurated on June 2nd 1997, after 17 months of renovations and transformations” (Ex Machina 2006).

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image as part of the local culture.31 In spite of Lepage and Ex Machina’s apparent ambivalence towards the Québec location,32 “successive Québec governments (liberalists and independentists) have embraced Lepage as ‘Québécois’” (Harvey and Curley 1999, 300). In turn, Lepage and his company engaged with the description of La Caserne’s site by stimulating symbolic associations between its old and new destiny, and connections with the “Québécois identity:” ‘[A]t the heart of the most ancient square kilometer of North America’ as ‘the beginning of the New World,’ he reiterates the official consecration of the habitation of settler and city founder Samuel de Champlain (1608), and reinforces the official national narrative that locates Québec’s origin at the moment of Champlain’s arrival rather than in any pre-colonial native history (Harvey and Curley 1999, 305).33

Thus, La Caserne – situated “on the border between the old and the new” (Harvey and Curley 1996, 306) – proved to be a space ideally equipped for turning the “Québécois tradition” into a necessary ingredient, part of the new, emancipated cultural identity and – most importantly – a space that offered Lepage a proper home for his creative explorations, a space technologically equipped to standards rarely achieved in Western theatre. Moreover, the performances produced by Ex Machina have been consistently portraying “multiple places and cultures as well as characters’ spatial and cultural movement among them” (Harvey and Curley 1999, 307), a strategy that neatly fitted into the image of contemporary Québécois culture, with its hybrid combination of the Northern and the Western, the cosmopolitan and the multi-cultural. Thus, through the establishment of Ex Machina Company, and with the consistent financial 31

Harvey and Curley maintain that: “Québec government representatives in particular sought this integration to strengthen physical and historical bonds – and, by extension, ideological bonds and artistic association – between Lepage and the Québec nation. Literally a barrack and a fire station, the Caserne makes manifest Lepage’s roots and practice in Québec City by housing him there. Almost uniformly, Lepage and Québec’s Ministry of Culture and Communication characterize these roots and practices as both traditional and innovative” (1999, 304). 32 Lepage, as already discussed in section 1.1.2 of the present subchapter, has always maintained a critically distanced attitude towards the nationalistic tendencies in the Québécois discourse. 33 For more details see the official Ex Machina website as well as numerous other interviews (a selection of which can be found in the Bibliography), in which the director reiterates the discourse about the location of La Caserne.

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endorsement of the local government, Lepage – a declared outsider within his own culture – remained deeply connected to it and, through his original performances and the associated touring strategies, contributed to the international recognition of the Québécois culture, whilst retaining his own creative freedom. Nevertheless, as Harvey and Curley rightfully observe, “[w]ithin the Western and Northern contexts, Ex Machina’s would-be international field of exposure is limited even more by its production concentration at elite festivals in metropolitan cities, largely sponsored by venture capital” (1999, 308). The company’s international affiliation transformed to a certain extent Lepage’s image into that of a “cultural commodity” (as the director himself confessed, see Introduction, footnote 1) and had further implications, requiring increasing financial and ideological support outside Québec. Harvey and Curley note: Ex Machina’s administrative director Michel Bernatchez claims that at 3-4 million dollars, the company’s budgets, are the largest of any theatre company in Québec. And while over eighty percent of the 7.5 million dollars needed to renovate and build the Caserne came from municipal, provincial, and federal funding, over seventy percent of the company’s running costs are met by funds abroad (1999, 308-09).

Furthermore, Ex Machina’s involvement with the international network and the extensive touring plan produced, in time, changes in the company’s relationship with local audiences. The role of feedback providers in the creative process, initially allocated to the local audiences, diminished gradually, due to objective factors related to touring and production strategies. This change in dynamics, in the relationship with the local audience, affected to a certain extent Ex Machina’s perceived representativity in terms of the “Québécois identity” inside the province. Harvey and Curley suggest that: To work properly as a landmark for Québec’s national identity, the Caserne presumably would have to interact with the people of that nation, but it does not. Audiences’ possibilities to see work at the Caserne are severely limited by both its small audience capacity and its understood function, as a laboratory, not a playhouse. The Caserne’s main space can accommodate an audience of 200 at most. It rarely opens to audiences, however, and when it does, only briefly and with short notice. For Lepage, the Caserne is “a controlled environment,” a laboratory which is hermetic in its relationship to its immediate context and the people in that context. In its current mode of operation, the Caserne is more hermitage than open house. Lepage’s and Ex Machina’s work makes limited contact with a wider

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Québécois population: Ex Machina’s shows are produced primarily for export (1999, 307).

Nevertheless, the contribution of Ex Machina to the international recognition/validation of the Québécois culture as dynamic, creative and synchronous to Western culture, its ability to contribute to the advancement of Western theatre is indubitable and applauded by local audiences, as both the sold-out houses for any of Lepage’s performances and the extensive local mass-media exposure suggest. In conclusion, both Lepage’s method of creation and the relationship with local audiences evolved in time, due to the director’s internationally growing reputation, his professional status and subsequent developments in Ex Machina’s production strategy. However, in spite of all the changes, it is still generally agreed that both Lepage, as a reputed artist and “cultural commodity,” and Ex Machina, as his flagship company, retain an undeniable significance in the context of contemporary culture in Québec, from both national and international perspectives.

1.2. Lepage’s Method of Creation Before attempting to define Robert Lepage’s method34 of creation, two major influences that played an instrumental role in its shaping, as highlighted by the director himself, should to be outlined. The first influence can be traced back to 1978, when Lepage attended a three-week stage at Alain Knapp’s Institut de la Personalité Créatrice in Paris. The Swiss director/pedagogue had developed a training method that emphasized the idea of the “actor-creator” and the use of “poetic imagination” as part of the theatrical process. Knapp aimed to teach his students to become polyvalent creators, able to act, direct and write, by using a structured approach towards improvisation. According to Alberto Manguel in “Theatre of the Miraculous” (1989), Knapp’s main focus was to “oppose intuition to rationalization, guts to brain, because he believed – as Lepage now does – that what occurred on stage is an experience that cannot be translated into words” (34). In other words, Knapp’s conviction was that the theatre artist had to explore intuitively (first and foremost) all the creative possibilities of a theme before taking any aesthetic decisions 34

The use of the term method in Lepage’s case should not be understood as a definitive “recipe” for creation or a rigid set of rules, but rather a structured set of predispositions that have been shaped and modified throughout time, in direct connection to the transformative nature of his work and the various factors that impacted upon it.

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in the shaping of performance. The way to accomplish this was through a set of improvisations designed and structured in direct relation to the particular topic and the stimuli chosen. Lepage contextualizes Alain Knapp’s particular approach as follows: I think that what was interesting is that it was in, it was in the years of where everybody believed a lot in improv, and improv was a very, very vague and messy thing. People just went up there and improv-d on different themes and, and the actual improv event had an importance in itself. With Alain Knapp what was interesting is that it was a kind of improv that was extremely structured so you were actually writing as you were going on, and a lot of people who would see performances made up of improvs thought that they were actually prewritten and they were not, so it was a very sophisticated refined kind of improv and, and that really, really stimulated me into working in, in that direction, and it was all based on intuition, not a lot on intellect, and in those days we were in the days of political theatre and people were using theatre as a vehicle for political ideas and philosophies and, and things were happening from the neck up and I was very interested in trying to find things, to be more in touch with my intuitions, and Alain Knapp had different exercises and different ways to put you in, in touch with that (Tusa 2005).

The director admits that Knapp’s approach came as a shock for him, in first instance, due to the previous academic (actor) training at the Conservatoire d’Art Dramatique de Québec; a training directed towards a theatre of words, ideas and intellect, yet predominantly naturalistic by way of process. However, rather quickly during his stage in Paris, Lepage realized the importance of Knapp’s method for his own professional development: By working with non-intellectual themes and just images or objects or impressions you, you do not debate impressions. I cannot be confronting your impressions, your impressions are your impressions and mine are mine, so, so it was a much more open and, and a richer way of working than working from themes and intellectual ideas (Tusa 2005).

Thus, Knapp’s approach, in terms of creativity, constituted a significant step forward in the shaping of Lepage’s own theatrical process, favoring the use of intuition, spontaneity, imagination and improvisation within a structured context. The second main influence, already addressed partially in Subchapter 1, section 1.1.3, was the influence of the Repère Cycles. The director maintains that he had always used the Repère method in an intuitive way, before even knowing “that it could actually be a cycle, or a way of

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working, or a method” (McAlpine 1996, 134). He, also, maintains that the method was rather “imported”/ appropriated by Lessard than invented and, most importantly, that parts of the method remained part of his own process, as it further developed at Ex Machina.35 However, the director acknowledges that the adaptation to theatre of the RSVP Cycles – originally designed as an interdisciplinary creative process – belongs to Lessard.36 As mentioned above – according to Lepage –, during his Théâtre Repère period he used a “freer form” of the Cycles than Lessard, which created inside the company two ways of working: “one which was more Jacques type of stuff, […] recycling already existing texts by authors, and the other which was collective creations, that I was doing with two-thirds of the company by starting from scratch” (McAlpine 1996, 134). Consequently, his way of working developed further at Ex Machina, as the director states: [W]e’ve developed our own rules and our own laws that have a certain parenthood with the Repère Cycles, but that have evolved into something very different. […] There are many points that have evolved. I think the thing that we have managed to make a point of in our company is the last part: the ‘Re’ of Repère. The ‘re-presentation’ performance aspect of it is the writing process (McAlpine 1996, 134).

Lepage considers the “theatrical text” as only the final “trace” of a performance. Nevertheless, the “writing”37 process starts with the opening 35

The director states: “We’ve inherited rather than invented a way of working. In our new company Ex Machina we’re using parts of the method we used to work with when we were with Théâtre Repère, but it was developed before that by Anna and Lawrence Halprin’s Dance Company in San Francisco” (McAlpine 1996, 133). 36 The director notes, in addition, that “[t]he people involved in the dance company were architects, philosophers, and chiropractitioners, but there weren’t that many theatre people involved besides Jacques” (McAlpine 1996, 133). 37 The notion of “writing,” in this instance, does not refer to “writing directly on stage,” nor to the notions of “écriture scénique,” proposed by Hébert and PerelliContos (2001), or to Balme’s “Szenishes Schreiben” (1999). It rather highlights the director’s attempts to document (and then, occasionally, publicize) what he considers to be the final, scripted version of a performance, offering the reader a “blueprint” of production, an approximate equivalent of the traditional “dramatic text,” with succinct acknowledgements of the intermedial practice as integral to the process. Intermedial moments are mentioned, but not described in sufficient detail for the reader to be able to “imagine” those performance moments, without seeing them. As tendencies identifiable in the past more than two decades demonstrate, Lepage attempts, on the one hand, to legitimize his innovative practice and

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night, when the work-in-progress is, for the first time, presented in front of a regular audience. The director maintains: I’ve always believed – even before I was working with the Repère Cycles or this method of working we have now – that writing starts the night that you start performing. Before that, at what people usually call rehearsals, we structure and improvise. The writing should be the last thing we do. In theatre it should be the trace of what you’ve done on stage (McAlpine 1996, 135).

In Connecting Flights... Lepage describes the opening night of a performance as “a kind of discovery, a single moment in the evolution of a show” (Charest 1997, 106). The initial contact of the work-in-progress material with the audience is, therefore, a radical moment in the evolution of performance, and a crucial moment in the “writing” process. The director suggests that the opening night brings to the forefront “a kind of a semblance of structure and the audience will actually inform us what the show is” (Lepage in Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 320). Therefore, the director’s own considerations suggest an overall empowerment/agency of the audience within the creative process, manifested through their inclusion/involvement as feedback providers. Furthermore, it needs to be acknowledged that Lepage’s creative method – as it developed during his affiliation with Théâtre Repère and further on, at Ex Machina – involves an enhanced notion of “playing”38 as integral part of the creative process. Thus, the performance material, developed throughout the improvisational/devising process prior to the opening night, becomes more of a “game” – or a “score” in Repère/RSVP

integrate it to the field of Western theatre, not only through the touring of his performances, but through the publication of the final versions of particular performance scripts – i.e. Polygraph (1997), La face cachée de la Lune (2007), Le Projet Andersen (2007) – thus paying tribute to the more traditional approach to theatre. On the other hand, the director’s strategy responds to growing commercial requirements pertaining to the present cultural economy by “branching out,” whilst, at the same time, addressing the Québécois audiences predominantly (i.e. most of the publications are either in French, or contain a French version of the text), maintaining visibility (beyond the showcase of performance) and the dialogue with local audiences. 38 The director maintains: “The whole notion of “playing” in theatre has been evacuated in this century. I think that the people who are part of our company are not interested in acting that much: they are interested in playing” (Lepage in McAlpine 1996, 135).

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terms – than a script.39 This approach brings with it a transfer/sharing of artistic responsibility from the director – as an auteur – towards the other members of the team. The director becomes, thus, a “conductor,” a “facilitator” of the exploratory/ improvisational40 process, whose role is to put things into perspective – hence the mise-en-scene – while an observer/spectator,41 and, thus, to contribute to the making of collective creative decisions (McAlpine 1996, 139-40). Nevertheless, in spite of the predominantly collective nature of the process, the final signature tends to be attributed – by regular theatregoers as well as specialized audience – to Lepage as as director and an auteur that brings all potentialities together in a coherent performative structure. Another quintessential aspect of Lepage’s process, situated in direct connection to what has been “inherited” from the Repère Cycles period, relates to the prominent status of the “Resource”(s) in the creative process, and their modality of use throughout the explorative stages. In “Robert Lepage: New Filters for Creation” (1987) the director defines his process as part Repère/ RSVP Cycles, part Knapp, and part himself, yet he acknowledges that he uses the same basic creative principle as Repère or RSVP Cycles in that he never works from a conceptual theme, but always from a “Resource” (Lefebvre 1987, 34). Throughout his Repère period and further on, the initial “Resource” has always been a concrete object explored through the bias of improvisation. According to Hébert and Perelli-Contos, “Resources” are artistically processed as follows: L’ensemble des interrelations qui en découlent constitue un sort de matrice qui, continuellement fécondée par le germe du départ, engendre des personnages, des lieux, des situations élémentaires, des contenus potentiels, tout compte fait, des bribes d’histoire. Celles-ci, bricolées par l’équipe à coups d’associations, d’analogies et de sélections, donneront graduellement forme à la pièce dont le sens semble émerger de lui-même (2001a, 271).42 39 In the director’s own words are: “you are inventing a game much more than a script, and you end up writing things on the day after the closing of the show” (Lepage in McAlpine 1996, 135). 40 The director highlights that: “We are a théâtre de recherche – not experimenting, but exploring, searching for new ways of expressing things. And we want to be accessible, to speak to the general public, and not to a select few” (Manguel 1989, 37, emphasis in original). 41 The term observer used by Lepage connects to the model of contemporary spectatorship developed further in Chapter 3 of this study. 42 In English: “The ensemble of resulting interrelations constitute a sort of matrix which, continuously fertilized by the initial seed, creates characters, places, basic situations, potential content, all in all, bits of narrative. These, cobbled together

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In other words, the process through which the initial object(s) – the “Resource”(s) – is (are) used as stimulus(i) and foundation for the improvisational process is mainly intuitive, associative and based on freeplay. The process relies on poetics connected to the contemporary collective imaginary, including the current medial environment and aiming to open new territories for perception, in sum: to engender a particular type of cognitive experience throughout the performance (Hébert and PerelliContos 2001a, 280). Through this particular use of the “Resource” a direct connection is established between the creative process and the spectatorial experience. Furthermore, the intermedial integration of other media within the framing medium of theatre, specific to Lepage’s approach, involves the use of media as “Resource”(s) in line with the horizon of expectations and medial literacy of contemporary spectators. A relationship – intuitive, associative and rather speculative of the sensorial impact – is, thus, established between all elements involved as “Resources” in the performance and the spectators. For instance, in “Technology is the reinvention of fire” (2003) Lepage states that, during the creation of the Far Side of the Moon, a crucial point in the development of the production was constituted by his directorial decision to use, as initial “Resource,” the window of a washing machine found on the street among waste (Monteverdi 2003, 2). The object itself became a main part of the set and one of the important stimuli in the development of the narrative, throughout the entire improvisational process. Regarding the main steps of the creative process the director states: My method is based mainly on selecting things that we all feel are starting points, that we feel rich, that are juicy. People will actually go in all sorts of directions. We explore. We include every aspect of the production in the exploration. We have the set designers, the lighting designers, the director/writers, whoever, the musicians, everyone is there from day one, even the technicians. They bring what they can bring to the explorations, and it takes all sorts of forms. We try to find what will eventually be the language of this new form, and try to serve that, instead of trying to make it fit into three weeks of rehearsal (Buchanan-Bienen 323).

One could state that Lepage’s creative process follows, in general terms, the main stages of the Repère Cycles. Nevertheless, due to the director’s nuanced, particular approach, the ways in which this process functions appears much more ripe with possibilities, and applicable to (almost) any

through associations, analogies and selections made by the team, gradually shape the performance, whose meaning seems to emerge from itself” (author’s trans.).

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given situation in reality, out of which theatrical essence can be extracted. In “Theatre of the Miraculous” Manguel addresses this aspect by partially resorting to Lepage’s own description: The French word repère means landmark, reference, or point of view. It is also an acronym for the four stages of the dramatic system on which Le Théatre Repère is based. […] In English these initials stand for Resources, Score, eValuation, and Presentation. […] ‘What this means,’ says Lepage ‘is that we begin with any resource–our conversation about my high-school days, for instance. Then we make a score with them; we say, ‘We’ll use this and that, in this or that order.’ Then we evaluate, we say what we feel about the score. We could talk about how the learning of the certain art languages wouldn’t work for me in school, and how I reacted with shyness. Then we present it. And the little scene that might come from this entire can–and usually does–become in itself a new resource, a new point of departure (Manguel 1986, 36).

Furthermore, the use of audio-visual media – both as a “Resource”(s) and as material elements contributing to the intermedial and/or multi-medial configurations on stage – is seen by the director as a logical consequence of theatre’s genuine mediality and reliance on technology since its beginnings. Lepage explains: Technology is the reinvention of fire. At the beginning of theatre, centuries ago, the actor spoke with the spectator in front of the fire. Fire is a natural element, but its use marks the beginning of technology and at the same time the beginning of theatre: afterward, all the various uses of fire became painting, cinema, video. Fire was replaced by technology, it supplies electricity, but people still come to the theatre, to sit down around the fire (Monteverdi 2003, 6).

In other words, “technology,” most oftently apparent as the “mediated” in performance, and theatre, apparent as the “live,” are not seen as irreconcilable or even as opposing each other on stage. On the contrary, as the director consistently argued and demonstrated throughout his career, “technology” functions as an effective, integrative tool in matters of scenic configuration and dramaturgy. Through the intermedial integration of other media into the framing medium of theatre, at formal and diegetic levels, the transformative aspect of media (and their respective technologies) is enhanced and made visible, both throughout the creative process and in representation. As Monteverdi suggests, the spectators that attend a performance by Lepage see the technology “unmasked,” its functioning at sight (2003, 4), and this has an additional, empowering and cognitively stimulating effect upon the audience.

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Detailing further upon the “use of technology” in performance, Lepage explains that, in spite of appearances, technologies used, especially in the first decade of his practice, were lower-tech that they seemed to be: “three slide projectors, a 16mm school projector, video, a rear projector, a bit of shadow play, and that is it” (McAlpine 1996, 156-57). This highlights Lepage’s own directorial abilities with regards to the engagement with media and brings forward theatre’s genuine mediality. Further on, with the advent of the digital media and, according to the director himself, due to the influence of Japanese culture43 upon his own way of understanding theatre, Lepage’s performances started to explore newer media alongside the older ones. Starting with Elsinore, the attempt towards a diversified medial exploration has become a constant in Lepage’s original creations, and the range of media involved increased. (A detailed analysis of this matter will be provided in detail throughout Chapter 4.) Consequently, the intermedial configurations developed in performance have become more intricate and, arguably, more sophisticated in relation to dramaturgy and the overall performance. In conclusion, one can state that Lepage’s method of creation, “of exploration, of trial and error” (Charest 1997, 119), has been characterized by openness towards the various influences discussed above. A number of key aspects remain, nevertheless, consistent. The starting point, the initial stimulus of a project – always a “Resource” – is further developed through the bias of improvisation. First into a set of “gripping images” (Charest 1997, 118) with a potentially stimulating impact upon creativity, then theatrical images are evaluated by the creative team and used as further “Resources” in the development of themes, narratives, characters, in sum: the overall dramaturgy of the performance. The work becomes thus 43

Robert Lepage has (repeatedly) proclaimed his ongoing admiration for the Japanese culture and admitted that the Japanese way of working in theatre and its particular theatrical “codes” had an undeniable impact upon his own process. In Robert Lepage: Connecting Flights, the director maintains that the decision to incorporate an increasing variety of media (and their aesthetic conventions) is a direct influence of his work as a director in Japan (Charest 1997, 46-47). At the same time, the director suggests that Japanese contemporary culture has a more pervasive influence upon Western civilization than overall envisioned. He considers that: “the Japanese are […] transforming our lives, transmitting their values to us, through miniaturization and transistors. […] We now think with computers, which forces us to use a cryptology that is very much similar to the basic cryptology of Japanese language. […] The Japanese way of organizing thought, images and even society is very close to the technological methods we are adopting”(1997, 48).

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multilayered, cyclical and in a quasi-continuous states of transformation throughout its rather lengthy life as performance, from the moment of inception to the last representation, several years later. The audience is involved at particularly chosen moments in the creative/evaluation process, using the feedback loop circuit. Spectatorial feedback is further integrated as a “Resource,” the target being the remediation of performance. Throughout this complex process, the main focus for Lepage (and his creative team) is on the way(s) in which the intermedial strategies developed via mise-en-scene and the resulting narratives can be improved upon and ultimately enhances the audience’s perception and response. Thus, theatre's genuine mediality and the transformative potential of other media within the framing medium of theatre are brought to the forefront of spectatorial attention through hybridizations, intertwinings and juxtapositions that stimulate perception. They engender a specific type of experience and acquisition of knowledge, in the situation of live performance, and lead to a particular type of cognitive, sensorial and psychological proximity that effectively and affectively enables spectatorial response.

CHAPTER TWO INTERMEDIALITY AND THEATRE

As a widely applicable theoretical concept introduced to the fine art disciplines in the 1960s, intermediality refers to artistic phenomena that appear to fall between established categories of media and their artistic manifestations, or to fuse their criteria. Although the notion had and still has different understandings to this day, depending on the field of research and (geographically) distinct academic traditions that contributed to its development, it is generally agreed that it tends to refer to a specific, dynamic type of interaction that takes place between distinctive media or medial configurations, and is characterized by hybridity. In arts and/or media practice, intermediality implies therefore the emergence of diverse and often radically novel modes of expression and creation, as well as a consideration of new modalities of reception. The majority of theoretical approaches developed so far tend to connect the notion to the equally debated notion of the avant-garde in the arts and its diverse medial manifestations. The understanding and use of the concept in the present study makes no exception, since Robert Lepage has been acknowledged from the beginning of his international breakthrough as an avant-garde director, or for those not entirely comfortable with the use of the term, as an experimental theatre-maker with an unmistakable artistic signature, whose work has been connected to a particular way of integrating various media within the medium of theatre. This chapter is dedicated to an in-depth discussion of the notion of intermediality, as it has been developed by media studies in the past decades (in subchapter 2.1), followed by a discussion of theatre as a medium (in subchapter 2.2), an application of the notion to contemporary theatre (in subchapter 2.3), and ultimately to Lepage’s original practice (in subchapter 2.4). The specific intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene identified in Robert Lepage’s performances will be observed in detail in Chapter 4.

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2.1. The Concept of Intermediality The notion of intermediality is most commonly related, historically, to the term “intermedium” introduced by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1812, to describe the specific characteristics and functions of the narrative allegory which he considered “distinguished from mythology as reality from symbol; […] in short, the proper intermedium between person and personification” (Coleridge in Raysor 1936, 33). The philosopher’s understanding of the term, however, is considered mainly in relation to its terminological origins since the rather restrictive literary perspective proposed by the Romantic author has very little in common with the definitions in use, which tend to cover a significantly wider spectrum. A common point in meaning, though, refers to the fact that Coleridge’s “intermedium,” as well as Higgins’ notion of “intermedia” (developed much later, see below), or the more recent conceptualizations of the term tend to discuss artistic endeavors that fall between distinct media, or genres established by cultural conventions at a given moment in time. Fluxus artist Dick Higgins, who coined the term “intermedia” in 1965, and fathered the contemporary line of discussions on intermediality, connected the notion to the hybridity of avant-garde practices. Further elaborating on the concept in his book-length study Horizons, the Poetics and Theory of the Intermedia (1984), Higgins defined “intermedia” as a conceptual fusion of different media in a work of art, and developed a theory and poetics of intermediality using examples such as “pictorial poetry” to illustrate his findings. The artist/scholar associated the notion with the avant-garde contemporary to his time, attempting to account for some of the radically new developments in the field of arts in the second half of the twentieth century. He maintained: Besides the post-cognitive tendency in the new arts, another characteristic of many of them is that they are intermedial, that is they fall conceptually between established or traditional media. […] Intermedia differ from mixed media; opera is mixed medium, inasmuch as we know what is the music, what is the text, and what is the mise-en-scène. In an intermedium, on the other hand there is a conceptual fusion (1984, 15-16).

Although one could argue that Higgins’ theorization was, still, to a certain extent, tributary to the modernist/monadic view upon media, his postulate was especially important for the theorization of intermediality, due to the conceptual difference established between the “mixed-medium” and the “intermedium,” which, nowadays, translates into a differentiation between multimediality and intermediality in relation to artistic outcomes. In

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discussing the reception process of the “intermedium,” Higgins observed that, through familiarization with the new “intermedium,” one tends to call it a new medium (1984, 16). This statement, in apparent contradiction with the implied inherent purist media theory, describes one of the main mechanisms of media development in contemporary culture. One could suggest that, without naming it as such, Higgins acknowledged the process of remediation described by Bolter and Grusin (see Introduction pp. 25-32) as a relevant phenomenon in contemporary media and the arts, and foregrounded the more recent theorizations of intermediality and the constitution of new media. The Fluxus artist-scholar’s preoccupation for intermedial phenomena is part of a wider attempt to understand the mechanisms at play in the avant-garde practices and their role in the development of new media and the arts. Thus, his theorization of “intermedia” proposes a (possible) foregrounding model for understanding even the more recent creative developments by focusing primarily on their formal/medial aspects: Why are avant-garde works of such critical importance historically? There are two basic reasons: (1) by definition, avant-garde work minimalizes traditional models, and therefore there tends to be an active, dialectical interrelationship between the form, which a work assumes, and the material of which it consists. The material is not channeled into an existing mode, but, rather, uses whatever uniqueness there is in the material to determine itself. (2) This channeling process, minimizing previous models, uses the experience and the moment of existence of its maker, the artist, and therefore reflects the newly unique thing about its moment in history – the up-to-now-this-wouldn’t-have been possible (Higgins 1984, 1, emphasis in original).

In other words, avant-garde works of art distinguish themselves against the cultural landscape in which they occur and they propose an apparently dialectic relationship between the inherent medial properties of the media involved in production and the specific ways in which these properties are used, that is the ways in which media conventions and technologies in use at the time are challenged and altered by particular artistic practices. It needs to be highlighted that the formal and material properties of a particular medium are not a set a priori known or given. They are rather developed – that is, explored, discovered and established – throughout the development of the medium and, more often than not, in relation to other media, a process in which avant-garde practices play(ed) a significant role, as Higgins (and many others) observed. Thus, a dynamic, historical and contingent relationship is established between the processes involved in media development and their reception by the audience. If works of art go

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against the grain of established media conventions at a given time, it is rather often that the various intermedial strategies developed by particular artistic practices can create an impression of uniqueness and are responsible for the impact in perception for the viewer/spectator/observer. As suggested above, Higgins’ theorization of “intermedia” formulates some of the critical questions pertaining to the potentially unstable and subjective nature of intermedial phenomena, questions that are still relevant today, especially in matters of perception. His assertions related to the importance of “intermedia” as groundbreaking phenomena in contemporary arts opened a new path for the discussion of hybrid developments in artistic practice.1 Although focused mainly on the avantgarde practices, Higgins’ queries regarding intermediality (and the related creative strategies) initiated a field of theoretical enquiry of seminal importance for the contemporary study of media and the arts, in general. Some of the questions raised remain open for debate even today, underlining the impossibility to define intermediality in a linear, simple way since the concept connects to an intertwining of phenomena pertaining to the cultural, cognitive and sensorial impact of media in terms of reception and, at the same time, to the ongoing development of material and technological properties of the media involved. Before concluding the discussion dedicated to Higgins’ theorization of “intermedia” it should be underlined that one of the important findings in relation to this study refers to the direct connection established between intermediality and perception. Higgins emphasized the dynamic impact of “intermedia” upon perception and observed that the spectator was encouraged to be “active-minded rather than passive” (1984, 80). Through imaginative projection, an engagement with the processual aspect of artistic practice takes place, which makes “new and interesting experiences possible […], ultimately the best justification for an innovation in art,” Higgins postulates (1984, 80). By acknowledging that intermedial configurations in the arts provoke a shift of focus from the diegetic aspects of the work to the more formal aspects and, ultimately, to the creative processes involved, thus highlighting the notion of mediality, the 1

The scholar highlights the complex role of avant-garde practices in the present cultural economy through an open-ended (rhetorical) question: “It is possible to speak of the use of intermedia as a huge and inclusive movement of which dada, futurism and surrealism are early phases preceding the huge ground swell that is taking place now? Or is it more reasonable to regard the use of intermedia as an irreversible historical innovation, more comparable, for example to the development of instrumental music than, for example, to the development of romanticism?” (Higgins 1984, 23).

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artist/scholar aims to suggest that a new type of spectatorial involvement is likely to occur, potentially leading to an enhancement of the collaborative aspects between intermedial practices and audiences. The spectator is empowered by being asked, even if only by means of suggestion, to become more actively (and imaginatively) involved in the process of symbolic creation of meaning. One could state that, in line with the current development of media and the diversified medial literacies acquired by the spectators, the concept of intermediality becomes a quintessential tool for discussing contemporary cultural practice in general, not only the artistic avant-garde(s). Consequently, the area currently covered by the notion of intermediality points out to several interrelated issues: (1) how media cooperate within a cultural event or a joint set of events, (2) how media combine and fuse into various hybrid forms, and (3) how transferences of forms and contents between media are being produced. Although extensive research has been conducted on these aspects, firstly by literary studies, then by media studies and more recently by theatre and performance studies, a generally agreed definition of intermediality across or within disciplines has not yet been recognized. The wealth of theoretical findings and the implied cross-disciplinarity of the notion make such a definition rather impossible (for the moment), although attempts towards a synthesis have been made. Moreover, an accurate overview of the developments of the concept is still further burdened by the lack of a commonly agreed definition of the terms “medium” or “media” across or within the above-mentioned fields of theoretical enquiry. Not to speak of the fact that, in performance and theatre studies, terms like “multimediality,” “intermediality” and “mixed-media” have been far too often circulated interchangeably, although they cover different meanings.2 2

I refer here to the fact that – due to the different understandings of the terms circulated – the concepts of “multimedia performance,” “mixed-media performance” or “intermedial performance” are considered (rather often) synonymous and/or interchangeable, when in fact a clear-cut difference in terms of perception can be acknowledged. On one hand, in a “multimedia performance” or a “mixed-media performance,” the various media at play can still be recognized/perceived as such, inside the framing medium of performance, whereas in an “intermedial performance” hybridizations and/or medial transferences of various kinds impact upon perception to the extent to which the viewer/spectator/observer acknowledges the medial interplay and the “in-betweenness” of the media configurations developed within the framing medium rather than the different media used. For a further description of the term “multimedia” see Christopher Balme’s definition, as the juxtaposition of different media in the frame of a Rahmenmedium (see Introduction, pp. 15-16).

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Current theorizations of intermediality take into account, besides the generally acknowledged dynamic “fusion” and/or “fission” between media inside the same cultural field (i.e. various arts, entertainment, etc.), the “fusion” and /or “fission” between diverse artistic, medial and scientific practices. This stems from the increasing number of cultural events – whether explicitly performative, or not – that hybridize narrative strategies (still) considered as belonging to cognitive realms substantially different in approach such as: science, arts, and/or entertainment. Metissages (2000),3 for instance – a millennial exhibition curated by Robert Lepage for the Musée de Civilisations du Québec – is only one example of a series of events relying on conceptual hybridizations between science, technology and various artistic practices, and merging cognitive realms considered (until recently) as radically distinctive. Furthermore, whether an essential or supplementary (interpretative) tool, the increasingly frequent use of the notion of intermediality demonstrates a clear tendency, for theatre and performance studies, to move away from notions such as “medial purity,” “multimedia” or “mixed-media” when attempting to define all medial interactions within artistic settings. It becomes clear(er) that, in particular instances, the notion of intermediality offers a more appropriate focus on the dynamics of medial interplay, as well as on the newly opened dimensions of sensorial experience. In the introduction to the special number of Degrés, dedicated to intermediality in performance arts, Johan Callens states: The concept of intermediality is here defined in the broadest possible sense: as interdisciplinarity in the arts (photography, film, theatre, literature/drama, happenings, music, dance, sculpture, painting…) and a reliance on means of technological reproduction and representation. More precisely the arts are here treated as media (commodities, too) within the same cultural and economic matrix, including by now the so-called information technologies and mass-media. In this sense the arts as 3

Metissages is an interdisciplinary project, an artistic-scientific-curatorial venture, produced by Musée de la Civilisation de Québec (in Québec-City) in cooperation with Ex Machina. The exhibition opened between 3rd of May 2000 and 3rd of September 2001, and used the notion of “metissage” (the French equivalent of “crossbreeding” or “hybridization”) as a “Resource” (in Lepage’s understanding) towards an artistic-technological-scientific exploration of contemporary culture, on the occasion of the new millenium. Several scientists, curators and artists were invited explore the theme. Robert Lepage acted as the main curator and the director of the performative parts of the exhibition. For more details, see Ex Machina’s online link: http://lacaserne.net/index2.php/other_projects/metissages/ (Accessed 25.12. 2015).

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Chapter Two produced in the postmodern western society are inevitably intermedial (2000, a1, emphasis in original).

Attempting to further contextualize the notion, the scholar observes that: “postmodernist thinking reveals a progressive blurring of borders between traditionally distinct categories – art and kitsch, information and entertainment, fact and fiction, text and context” (2000, a2). Consequently, a subject cannot be studied any longer “from a purely text-immanent and monomedial perspective” (2000, a2). Although the definition offered by Callens is more of an umbrella term, designed to accommodate the differently nuanced approaches proposed by the contributors to the special number of Degrés, the scholar’s connection between intermediality and the reliance on technological means of reproduction and representation implicitly highlights the functionality of the concept in performance and media studies. Callens suggests that, for the study of stage-based performances incorporating various other media, Blau’s interpretation of the “live” and the “mediatized” on stage as “essentially distinct discourses that can be made to coexist in some kind of complementarity of consciousness and unconsciousness, word and image, body and mind” (Blau in Callens 2000, a4) should be discarded in favor of Auslander’s understanding. Callens draws mainly on Auslander’s refusal to acknowledge any ontological distinctions between the two and the willingness, instead, to propose their description as “contingent” and “historically determined” within a cultural environment dominated (at the time) by the televisual, “which has installed a craving for proximity and reproducibility of images” (Callens 2000, a4). Moreover, Nick Kaye’s study “Intermedia and Location” – published in the above mentioned number of Degrés – uses Higgins’ definition of the “intermedium” as a starting point for a novel definition of intermediality, connected to notions of place and space in contemporary performance. Kaye suggests that Higgins, in fact, proposed two definitions of the term “intermedium:” one in terms of the conceptual fusion of elements pertaining to conventionally distinct media (see discussion on Higgins, above) and the other in terms of a “resistance to the viewer’s capacity to resolve and stabilize identities and boundaries” (Kaye 2000, b1). Therefore – according to Kaye – the “intermedium,” as it is produced in “a blocking together of conflicting identities,” produces, in its turn, a tension, “a vacillation, in looking, where it becomes apparent that its identity is yet to be resolved” (2000, b1, emphasis in original). Kaye further suggests that intermedia, in this sense, implies “a certain excess, where an object’s or practice’s simultaneous definition through distinct and incompatible frames or contexts forces a self-referential awareness on behalf of the

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viewer” (2000, b2, emphasis in original). The scholar, thus, defines the “intermedial effect” as the interpenetration of radically different and distinct elements in order to produce simultaneity in perception (Kaye 2000, b9). Drawing on Higgins’ theorization, Kaye, also, connects intermediality to a significant change in spectatorial perception, which connects to the main argument of this study. Adding to the above, the discussion of intermediality generated within German media studies in mid 1980s, and gaining real momentum in the following two decades, brought to the forefront one of the theoretical stepping-stones, through Jurgen Müller’s study Intermedialität: Formen moderner kultureller Kommunikation (1996). The scholar acknowledged the usefulness of the concept for the discourse of media studies and attempted to sketch the contours of a new methodology in the field. Nevertheless, instead of a normative meta-theory that would serve as paradigm for the study of contemporary media, Müller opted for an exploration of the dynamics of the intermedial relationships, through a series of specific case studies. The perspective proposed implied a set of descriptive reconstructions of the intermedial processes in different medial “texts,” contextualized through an interdisciplinary framework that involved socio-psychological, cognitive-communicative and historiographical aspects of media interaction (Müller 1996, 18). The scholar construed the notion of intermediality in a kaleidoscopic manner, by looking at the ways in which medial interplay involving film, literature, theatre, graphic arts, video, television, and computer was established, based on case studies. His arguments partially counteracted Higgins’s definition of the “intermedium,” as a process that fused conceptually the different characteristics of medial elements considered separate by medial and aesthetic conventions, and maintained that such a view of intermediality was deficient for three main reasons, as outlined below. A first reason – Müller argues – is that a historical perspective on media theory demonstrates beyond doubt that there is no such thing as monadic/“pure” media. All media have been shaped, to a certain extent, by means of intermedial adaptations and transferences, an assertion that can be corroborated with McLuhan’s vision of media as extensions of human capacities. Intermediality is, therefore, an inherent part of the process of media development, and not an optional third category “in-between” media. Müller maintains: Die Geschichte der klassischen und modernen Medien zeichnet sich seit den Anfängen der Schrift durch mediale Transformationen, Fusionen, Brüche und Interaktionen aus, welche die postulierte ‚Reinheit’ der Medien als Fiktion entlarven. (Als eine Fiktion, die freilich under den

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Chapter Two jeweiligen sozial- und mentalitäthistorischen, rezeptionästhetischen, medientheoretischen, psychologischen und kognitionspsychologischen Umständen durchaus‚ funktional und verständlich’ erscheint). Doch vergessen wir nicht: der oftmals erstrebte Zustand medialer Ordnung coproduziert einen realisierten oder potentiellen Zustand inter-medialer Fusion, medialer Grenzüberschreitung und medialer Un-Ordnung4 (1996, 16, emphasis in original).

A second reason lies in the fact that media cannot be understood as simple technological objects, but as multi-layered constructs. Consequently, at each of these (implied) levels, intermedial relationships can occur – as the series of case studies observed by Müller highlight. A third reason, deriving from the second, is that, since media are always embedded in communicative acts, intermediality occurs at the technological level (the level of apparatus) as well as at the levels of: systems of signs (semiotic), socio-cultural habits and beliefs, and ideological or cognitive framing of experience. In this respect, Müller considers that the postulates of media theory fall short of explanation when reducing a medium to its technological dimension and/or their aesthetic aspects, since they overlook the pragmatic function of media in terms of non-fictional communication (1996, 81). Consequently, the scholar defines intermediality as a complex process within media, resting upon a dynamic transfer of features and concepts, and aimed at opening up new dimensions of representation and understanding in communicative acts (1998, 38). He maintains: Ein mediales Produckt wird dann inter-medial, wenn es das multi- mediale Nebeneinander medialer Zitate und Elemente in ein konzeptionelles Miteinander überführt, dessen (ästhetische) Brechungen und Verwerfungen neue Dimensionen des Erlebens und Erfahrens eröffnen5 (Müller 1998, 32).

4

In English: “The history of classical and modern media is featured, since the dawn of writing, through medial transformations, mergers, breakthroughs and interactions that expose the ‘purity’ of media as a fiction. (As fiction, of course, this theory may appear functional under the particular social and historical framework situated at the confluence of reception aesthetics, media theory, psychological and cognitive psychology). But we must not forget that the often sought condition of media and their organization co-produces a realized or potential state of inter-medial fusion, medial border crossing and medial disorder” (author’s trans.). 5 In English: “A medial product will become intermedial when, in fact, multimedial juxtapositions, quotes and media elements meant to cooperate conceptually

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Drawing on the Romantic origin of the term intermediality, Müller proposes Wagner’s concept of the Gesamtkunstwerk – a hybrid form combining theatre, music and drama – as the forerunner of intermedial strategies in contemporary performative arts. In his view, Wagner’s aesthetic sought to maximize the reception impact, through medial crossovers and the constitution of new medial forms (Müller 1998, 35). Discussing the effect upon the spectators envisioned by Wagner’s aesthetic and medial syncretism, Müller states that the deep emotional impact and the fascination effect sought upon the spectator was (arguably) accomplished through a functional re-integration of arts and media, considered as separate at the time, into a new configuration that did not suppose their simple juxtaposition, but rather their inclusion/integration into a novel artistic and medial format (1998, 35). Further on, in discussing the landscape of contemporary arts, Müller claims that the current age of medial crossovers produces innumerable intermedial hybrids, which expose, through their medial dynamic, the traditional and fixed “texts,” indicating meanings that continuously morph into each other. He suggests that the validity of traditional medial and generic specific containments is suspended, giving way to a flux of medial “texts” that replace the framing previously provided by the mechanical media of nineteenth century (1996, 15). Consequently – by integrating questions, concepts and structures belonging to other media into their own (medial) context – contemporary works of art build up intermedial constellations that open new dimensions of experience (Müller 1996, 88). The abundance of aesthetic fusions, refractions, or distortions that are, thus, being developed bring into greater focus not only the main medium of expression, but also the medial interplay itself and, more specifically, the traces left by the intermedial strategies, as they reveal themselves to spectators/observers. Intermediality therefore – according to the scholar – becomes a provocation both for the audience and for media theory. In sum, in his argumentation pro-intermediality, Müller acknowledges a significant connection between the notion of intermediality and the field of spectatorial perception that still has to be explored. In “Intermediality: Rethinking the Relationship between Theatre and Media”(2006) Christopher Balme attempts to synthesize developments of the notion and postulates that the current understandings of intermediality have three main fields of application, leading to three different definitions. Thus, intermediality can be understood as:

are drawn together, when (aesthetically) open refractions and distortions lead to new dimensions of experience” (author’s trans.).

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Chapter Two (1) [T]he transposition of diegetic content from one medium into another; (2) a particular form of intertextuality; and (3) the attempt to realize in one medium the aesthetic conventions and habits of seeing and hearing in another medium” (Balme 2006, 7).

According to the scholar, the first understanding of the notion refers to questions of adaptation and the related field of research, which tend to focus on the paradigm of medial specificity, the second connects mainly to the field of comparative literature and relates to the different degrees and strategies of intertextuality present in a particular text, whilst the third, underscored by Balme himself, proposes a narrower, yet more useful understanding of the concept in relation to theatre studies (Balme 2006, 7). The scholar suggests that the key term, in this instance, is conventionality, which leads to an understanding of media as “a set of historically contingent conventions, which may or may not be predicated on their technical devices” (Balme 2006, 7). Peter Boenisch proposes a fourth understanding of the term and suggests there is a direct connection between intermediality and contemporary spectatorship, as it will be discussed in detail in subchapter 2.3.

2.2. Intermediality and Theatre as a Medium As implied by the discussions outlined above, any application of the concept of intermediality to the field of theatre studies needs to start from the consideration of theatre as a medium, which still seems to be (still) somewhat problematic, (arguably) due to the lack of a widely applicable and agreed definition of the “medium” and the lack of a widely agreed definition of “theatre.” Derrick de Kerkchove’s “A Theory of Greek Tragedy” (outlined in the Introduction, pp. 30-31) suggests that the conceptualization of theatre as a medium applies, also, to contemporary theatre, based on the initial model of the “Greek stage [which] projected the prototypes of Western man as models for the acquisition of private consciousness” (1981, 23). The scholar discards the widely spread assumptions regarding the predominantly ritualic and/or social entertainment roles of theatre in the Attic culture and puts forwards the supposition that theatre was probably not an art form primarily, but a technology of change and, implicitly, a medium. According to the scholar it: [A]rose at the point of conjunction of several previously unrelated strains: the practice of sport competition, the cultural policies of a prestige oriented bureaucracy, the growth of literacy, the bardic tradition and […] the need

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for Athens to develop a mark of distinction among other Greek states, and efface the memory of a previously unremarkable cultural background (de Kerkchove 1981, 23).

De Kerkchove’s theory highlights the (inherent) hybridity of theatre as a medium and foregrounds a possible application of the notion of intermediality. The author’s account of the ways in which the theatre apparatus functions – including the developments of medial configurations on stage – leads again, unsurprisingly, to the problem of spectatorial perception and the subsequent impact of theatre as a medium upon the senses. According to the scholar, the theatrical apparatus – as it has been initially designed and furthermore developed in Western culture – tends to favor frontality in terms of visual perception, which puts the spectator at a specific distance from the world presented on stage (see Ben Chaim, pp. 18-25). This leads to the acquisition of a particular distance in terms of spectatorial perception, which, one can argue using a plethora of modernist and contemporary examples including Lepage’s intermedial practice, has been increasingly exploited in performance, for aesthetic, cognitive and/or sensorial purposes. Overall, one could state that the progressively noticeable and sophisticated integration of other media within the medium of theatre has played a critical role in furthering its field of practice, based on theatre’s genuine mediality. Moreover, the paradigmatic shift of focus from the diegetic content, the transposition on stage of the dramatic text based on a tradition of literary criticism, to the more formal and processual aspects connects to the re-definition/remediation of theatre as a hypermedium (Balme 1999), or the definition of theatre as a medium of genuine mediality (Boenisch 2003), highlighting its (formal) capacities and openness towards interconnections with other media. Such an understanding of theatre inevitably brings into the spotlight the quintessential role of spectatorial perception, both in terms of practice and theory. Most frequently, in the analysis of contemporary practice, various crossovers of medial and/or aesthetic borders are acknowledged, interdisciplinary perspectives are proposed, and here the notion of intermediality becomes instrumental. Without it, the paradigmatic, technological shift from the mechanical to the analogue and more recently to the digital, observable by now in many artistic areas, cannot not be accounted for in proper detail and any analytical attempt runs the risk to turn into a collection of (outdated) interpretative clichés. In conclusion, one can state that intermediality – as a flexible and inclusive concept – is a key tool for interpreting contemporary practice, its usefulness becoming obvious especially with the advent of the “multi-,” “cross-” or the “inter-medial” in the most diverse (personal and collective)

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cultural spaces. Accordingly, research from an intermedial perspective aims to investigate intersections between the body and voice of the performer(s), the place and the space(s) of performance, as well as the audience’s interaction with the various media within the framing medium of theatre, as the subchapter below will attempt to discuss in more detail.

2.3. Intermediality and Spectatorship in Contemporary Performance To the previously discussed perspectives on intermediality, Peter Boenisch adds a fourth, more explicitly connected to spectatorial perception and, therefore, most useful in developing the methodological framework of the present study. In “CoMEDIA electrONica: Performing Intermediality in Contemporary Theatre” (2003) the scholar examines intermediality in relation to the paradigmatic shift from the “Gutenberg Galaxy” – the age of literacy and sequential fragmentation of knowledge, as defined by Marshall McLuhan in the namesake book published in 1962 – to the “electrONic culture”6 – the age of the digital and holistic inclusion of knowledge. Boenisch proposes an approach on intermediality that “stresses underlying strategies of processing all kind of information, including de aesthetic, within a certain period” (2003, 34) and maintains that “‘theatre’s genuine mediality’ already implies its ‘intermediality,’ which, in fact, can be traced back all the way to classical Greek drama” (2003, 34). The scholar postulates that, with the present transformation of the “Gutenberg Galaxy” into an “eletrONic culture,” theatre trains its spectators into cognitive strategies belonging to the emerging cultural paradigm and – more importantly – that “what is now commonly referred to as the intermediality of theatre has to become a core feature of any theory of performance in the twenty-first century” (2003, 32). Drawing on McLuhan’s media theory, particularly on the findings related to the technological and cognitive preconditions underlying all media at a certain period in time and, further on, expanding on De Kerckhove’s hypothesis that theatre worked as a training ground for the implementation of the new perceptual standards introduced by the alphabet and literacy in the Attic culture, whilst, at the same time, aiming to take further the rather extensive discussion on intermediality that had taken place in German theatre and media studies in the past two decades,7 Boenisch puts forward the 6

Term put forward by Peter Boenisch, in its current spelling. Boenisch repeatedly refers to Christopher Balme’s triple definition of intermediality discussed above, in subchapter 2.2.

7

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proposition that theatre, once more, in contemporary culture, functions “as a ‘training centre’ for new modes of perception” (2003, 38). The scholar maintains that a gradual shift of cognitive standards is still in progress today. According to him, the newly emerging cultural formation has the following (comparative) features: a) [T]he once dominating visual mode of perception is substituted by multi-mediality and multi-sensoriality addressing all senses, b) instead of hierarchic uniformity and self-identity, our new ‘virtual reality’ leaves space for varieties, minorities and numerous identities, c) in the place of segmentation, successive and causal linearity is now a non-sequential simultaneity of linked Hypertext systems, d) instead of being a passively consuming reader, the ‘user’ of electronic aesthetics becomes interactively involved (2003, 35-36).

Whilst the notion of “eletrONic culture” proposed by the scholar did not catch on, the analysis above and the characteristics outlined remain important in examining current modes of reception in intermedial theatre. The features listed above, in fact, inform, as Boenisch argues: “our entire sensorial, cognitive and aesthetic perception – including the perception and reception of traditional art and media” (2003, 36). Consequently, theatre cannot not be interpreted as a medium belonging to the (old) cultural paradigm of the Gutenberg Galaxy – as Derrick de Kerckhove suggested back in 1981 – but rather as a re-formed medium that seeks to actively integrate the new cognitive strategies of the “electrONic culture” – or digital culture in current parlance –, and its signifying practice attempts to perceptually train spectators according to the rules of the newly shaped environment. Boenisch’s theorization of intermediality in relation to contemporary theatre is developed further in “Aesthetic art to aisthetic act: theatre, media, intermedial performance” (2006). The scholar puts forward the proposition of theatre as a medium by reviewing the vast field of contemporary media studies – from Benjamin to Bolter and Grusin, via McLuhan, Crary and Manovich – in order to “situate the key concepts of mediality and theatricality, before arriving at a new definition of intermediality” (Boenisch 2006, 103). By foregrounding the critical role of the spectator as an observer in contemporary performance, the notion of intermediality is no longer understood as mainly (and only) related to the use of various technologies within live performance, or restricted to the space of the digital economy, but, as Boenish proposes: Rather, it is an effect performed in-between mediality, supplying multiple perspectives, and foregrounding the making of meaning rather than

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Chapter Two obediently transmitting meaning. Drawing on the Greek word aisthestai, to perceive, intermediality is an aisthetic act, which has close affinities to theatre – the place “to see and behold”, as the Greek verb theasthai suggests (2006, 103, emphasis in original).

Thus, the significant changes engendered by the proliferation of media (and the respective technological apparatuses) within the present cultural environment lead, inevitably, to a reformed understanding of the term “medium” and impact substantially on spectatorship. A variety of contemporary practices highlight the genuine openness of theatre (as a medium) towards the incorporation8 of other media, or medial aspects within performance. An updated definition of theatre proves necessary in this context. Taking further previous arguments from “Comedia electrONica…” the scholar defines theatre as a media technology and a semiotic practice, and defines intermediality as an effect upon the observer. The scholar postulates: Theatre itself is a media technology that utilizes, at its very heart, other media to transmit and store, while it highlights, at the same time, the process of processing information. Theatre is therefore essentially a semiotic practice that incorporates, spatializes and disseminates in sensorial terms (thus: performs) the contents and cognitive strategies of other media by creating multiple channels, and a multi-media semiotic and sensoric environment. It is exactly through this door where intermediality enters theatrical performance. […] Theatre, as an aesthetic act, an artistic medium, and an aisthetic process, relies on its observers. Intermediality, I suggest, is an effect created in the perception of observers that is triggered by performance – and not simply by the media, machines, projections or computers used in a performance. I conceive of intermediality as much more than yet another aesthetic strategy to be simply devised, or than just the latest media-technological gimmick feature just waiting to be switched on as explained by the instruction manual (2006, 113-114).

To illustrate his argument, Boenisch proposes a generic theatrical sequence involving an actor, a picture and a videotape recording. Due to theatre’s genuine mediality – he argues – the reproduction of these elements appears to “transparently trans-code them on stage without any trace of mediatization” (2006, 114). Yet, he considers this trace to only have been ignored by theatre studies and proposes a closer look at the 8

This integration, in Bolter and Grusin’s terms, can emphasize either the need for immediacy, or the need for hypermediacy, both present within contemporary spectatorship.

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obvious effect upon the observer, which he describes as neither mechanical, nor technical or digital, but aesthetic, as it takes place only in the observer’s perception alone. The very fact that all the above elements are put on stage changes the perception upon them. Boenisch further argues: As opposed to the digital transcoding into bits and bytes, theatre leaves the thing itself intact, yet the actor, picture, and tape, at the same time, are theatrically reproduced into something beyond their mere (even less: pure) original presence (2006, 114).

Seen from this perspective, according to Boenisch: The intermedial effect breaks the standard law of observing the media timetable, and interferes with their normal function of creating unified messages, linear narratives, and homogenous worlds in the cognition of the observers. Instead of closing down the multiple semantic potential offered into one coherent meaning, intermedial performances derail the message by communicating gaps, splits and fissures, and broadcasting detours, inconsistencies and contradictions. Therefore, intermedial effects ultimately inflect the attention from the real worlds of the message created by the performance, towards the very reality of media, mediation and the performance itself. The usually transparent viewing conventions of observing media are made palpable, and the workings of mediation exposed. Thus, intermediality manages to stimulate exceptional, disturbing and potentially radical observations, rather than merely communicating or transporting them as messages, as media would traditionally do (2006, 115, emphasis in original).

In conclusion, the scholar’s argumentation proposes a direct connection between the notion of intermediality in theatre and contemporary spectatorship by locating the spectator – or observer, in Boenisch and Crary’s terms9 – at the core of the intermedial phenomena. Thus, the connection between spectatorial perception and intermediality can neither be denied nor should it be overlooked, and the analysis of any intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene (such as those highlighted by the present study) should be situated in direct connection to their impact in terms of spectatorial perception, in relation to current findings on intermediality. At the present moment, there seems to be an agreed understanding that a unique definition of the intermediality is not likely to

9

See Chapter 3, footnote 1, for a discussion of the differences and similarities between the notions of the “spectator” and the “observer.”

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occur anytime soon,10 therefore the present analysis relies on the most recent validated endeavors to clarify the matter.

2.4. The Intermediality in Robert Lepage’s Original Theatre Work The hypothesis put forward here is that an intermedial integration of other media into theatre practice and the acquisition of a particular relationship with the audience are the two intertwined strategies situated at the core of Robert Lepage work. Both intermediality and the spectators’ response are integrated as resources into a live system of creation in continuous transformation, a system designed (also) as a feedback loop circuit modeled on automatic networks and aiming to contribute to the remediation of performance (at different levels), as it will be observed in detail throughout Chapter 4. Effects of intermedial strategies occur at different levels of the creative process and representation, but they all, ultimately, bear an effect on the spectators, altering their condition of engagement. One can identify, as it will be discussed in the following chapter, the intermedial strategies that result from collective collaboration in the process of creation. The outcome of such strategies is presented on stage, in front of diverse audiences. Juxtapositions of different medial technologies that become part of the scenic apparatus, hybridizations of aesthetic, narrative conventions and clichés pertaining to diverse media – i.e. photography, film, video, painting, video-clip, installation, digital media, etc. – within the framing medium of theatre are abundant in Lepage’s process of creation. All create the preconditions for enhanced sensorial perception, and stimulate participation, at the very least at the level of imaginative production of meaning and, most often, impact upon spectatorship in a more complex or, at times, different way than (perhaps) envisioned. The feedback resulting from the enhanced/altered perception occurring throughout the experience of live performance and the subsequent imaginative production of meaning is occasionally reinvested into the process of creation as “Resource”. The feedback loop-circuit system that engages the audience is, thus, developed through intermedial transference, through the use of a strategy derived from the field of automation, in McLuhanian terms. The process of reintegrating 10

Further debates on intermediality in relation to contemporary theatre, especially relevant to Lepage’s theatre process, have for now taken a reflective pause. Further insights regarding the topic are therefore to be developed.

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spectatorial feedback is, in itself, related to an intermedial strategy of mise-en-scene that ultimately affects the spectators in two ways. Firstly, it changes spectatorial condition from a (arguably) passive mode of reception into a mode of creative engagement that leads to observance of performance (in Crary’s sense), therefore highlighting the latent agency inscribed within the act of spectating. Secondly, the spectatorial feedback reinvested in the creative process returns to the spectator via the remediated version of performance and, potentially, engenders a further (re-mediated) version of (sensorial) perception that includes the imaginative creation of meaning, at the same time confirming the effects of the agency inscribed in spectatorship.11 The visible result of such involvement is that Lepagean performances, through the loop-circuit network they propose, complex, contingent and in perpetual transformation, bring together the quasi-continuous process of “writing” and the audience response, and consider both creators and spectators as competent participants to the theatrical process. It could be argued that the involvement of the audience in the loop circuit of performance takes place only occasionally and, therefore, is not necessarily representative or instrumental. Nevertheless, “occasions” are strategically chosen, they take place regularly and are considered by Lepage and his creative team(s) essential in the process of performance remediation. Thus, even if the involvement of the audience as a “Resource” occurs (only) occasionally, the importance of the feedback is by no means less significant than the one afforded to any other “Resource” involved, and, therefore, cannot not be discussed as marginal to the theatrical process. In conclusion, this chapter outlined the notion of intermediality as it has been developed in media, theatre and performance studies in the past decades, and in relation to this study’s focus. It attempted to discuss contemporary practice seen from an interdisciplinary perspective (informed by theatre and media theory) and apply findings to Lepage’s process. However, before proceeding to the detailed analysis of the intermedial strategies used by the director in his solo shows, it is important to discuss the specific conditions of contemporary spectatorship in Chapter 3.

11

According to most reviews and studies, attending a Lepage performance at different stages of development has become part of the specificity of spectatorial practice for his performances, whether it involves scholars or theatregoers appreciative of his work.

CHAPTER THREE CONTEMPORARY SPECTATORSHIP AND ROBERT LEPAGE’S THEATRE

Whether it is referred to as the “audience,” “public,” or the “spectator”1 and, in spite of recent academic endeavors aiming to stimulate debate on the topic through a focus on participatory, interactive or immersive practices, one can still observe that contemporary 1

According to The Concise English Dictionary the word “audience” (in Latin – audientia) implies the act of hearing, attention and reception in a formal situation, where both the producer and the receiver of the message are present. Also (figuratively) it can refer to the reader of a book, where the producer and the receiver of the message are not situated in the same physical space, yet they retain a particular connection (1999, 69). According to the same source, the word “public” (in Latin – publicus, derived from populous – people) means pertaining to or affecting people as a whole (or any particular section of the people) and involving a message or product open to everybody, observable by all members involved in the process (1999, 920). The word “spectator” (in Latin – spectare – meaning to behold, and derived from specere – to look) involves the one who looks on, especially at a show or spectacle (1999, 1095). It is common knowledge that, in theatre studies, the term “audience” has been traditionally preferred by Anglo-American academia and implies a stronger accent on the aural aspect of performance, the impact of the (dramatic) text on stage, whilst the term “spectator,” circulated within the Romance based academic communities (French, Italian Spanish, etc.) and German academia, relates traditionally to a stronger focus on the visual and (implicitly) spectacular elements of performance. The term “public” has been used either in a more general sense or as a synonym for the terms “audience” or “spectators,” yet retaining its lack of specificity in terms of definition. In the field of media studies, Jonathan Crary proposed the term “observer” (see discussion further in the present chapter), adopted by part of theatre and performance studies especially German and UK based academia. The present study, however, puts forward the term “spectator” as a widely accepted concept, referring to acts of seeing, perception, interpretation and cognition in a live performance situation where the visual aspect is enhanced, as in Robert Lepage’s theatre, whilst acknowledging that “seeing,” as such, is not the only sensorial point of reference in his practice.

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spectatorship remains a notion insufficiently theorized in theatre and performance, as opposed to film or media studies. In “Theatre, film, performance: the role of the spectator” (2000) Gay McAuley postulates that choosing the spectator as the site of comparative reflections regarding the field of theatre studies involves a certain hubris. The scholar observes: Film theorists have written a great deal about spectatorship, while for theatre historians the spectator has been something of an unmarked term, taken for granted but until recently hardly explored at all. On the one hand, then, there is an excess of material, a lot of it fairly abstract and uncomplicated by empirical considerations of what actual spectators actually do; on the other hand, two and a half thousand years of history and a dearth of generally accepted theoretical positions (McAuley 2000, 1).

At the same time, especially starting with the rise of the director in Western theatre, existing documentation tends to highlight that seminal theatre-makers2 have often based their artistic explorations on attempts to alter the relationship between the “stage” and the “house,” between performance and the onlookers. To “move” the spectator, to get his/her attention, to impress, to manipulate, or to integrate them more actively and creatively into the performance (process) has been consistently on the agenda. The subject is too vast to be other than highlighted in this context. However, the openly expressed attempt to alter spectatorship – whether emotionally, intellectually and/or physically, or through a combination of the above –, in sum: the attempt towards enhancing the spectatorial experience became an increasingly important preoccupation for modernist and then contemporary Western theatre. Enhancing the audience(s)’ experience of the performance arguably lead to an enrichment of spectatorial involvement, explaining the plethora of participatory, interactive or immersive practices purposefully blurring the boundaries between spectating and performance, and their common occurrence recently. In spite of this tendency in practice, a theoretical reluctance still remains; theatre scholars tend to overlook, treat descriptively, or simply consider spectatorship as having limited

2 A list of seminal theatre and/or opera directors that – according to their own statements and/or other studies – were preoccupied with the “manipulation” of the spectator includes: Richard Wagner, Max Reinhardt, Bertolt Brecht, Vsevolod Meyerhold, Jerzy Grotowski, Antonin Artaud, Peter Brook, Robert Wilson, etc…. and, of course, Robert Lepage.

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relevance for the overall field of enquiry, as McCauley rightfully observed. Arguably, one of the reasons for the lack of theoretical focus regarding audience and/or spectatorship resides in the fact that effective methodologies (i.e. quantitative analysis) developed in connecting fields (i.e. film or media studies) proved, in the case of theatre, difficult to employ with relevant results. Causes are related to the specifics of production and reception in theatre, which make both the collection and interpretation of data less effective, or scholarly relevant as a key method. Several further aspects can be mentioned here as contributing: the lack of interest on the part of theatre producers and institutions in such studies, for marketing purposes; limited or no funding for empirical research on the topic; the cultural and psychological heterogeneity of diverse theatre audiences; and, last but not least, the transitive nature of the medium itself, its “liveness” aspect involving the quasi-simultaneous presence of both performers and spectators in the unfolding of the performance, which impacts on parameters of reception, altering them in ways that are hardly quantifiable. The experience of theatre brings with it a particular type of intensity that makes quite often the perception of live performance, throughout its unfolding, different from the afterthoughts provoked, and the possibilities that exist within film to revisit the material are limited in theatre only to documentative traces. Consequently, one could argue that an empirical approach, borrowing from media studies, remains rather problematic in terms of its relevance for a proper theorization of theatrical spectatorship. Denis Kennedy in The Spectator and the Spectacle: Audiences in Modernity and Postmodernity (2009) highlights similar methodological problems and observes a danger of turning theoretical generalisations into “intellectual quicksand.” He notes: The reasons for the difficulty are apparent enough: audiences are not (and probably never have been) homogeneous social and psychological groups, their experiences are not uniform and impossible to standardize, their reactions are chiefly private and internal, and recording their encounters with events, regardless of the mechanism used to survey or register them, is usually belated and inevitably partial. (Kennedy 2009, 3)

In the case of the present study, too, attempting to measure directly the audience’s response in relation to the original theatre works developed by Robert Lepage since 1984, and then analyze the results in relation to the intermedial focus would be an impossible goal to reach. The lack of written resources that document a direct and unmitigated

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reaction of various audiences to each original work, at each stage of development, makes such a task unattainable in practical terms. A different approach towards establishing a (reasonably) accurate perspective upon spectatorship, and situated in direct connection to the intermedial directorial strategies developed by Lepage in his performances, is suggested instead. An interpretative pathway is proposed, that corroborates the main directorial intentions in performance – as highlighted by existing documentation: scripts, video recordings, interviews related to the making process, etc. – and the wealth of critical responses – reviews and scholarly studies – that acknowledge indirectly, yet in a telling manner, the particular impact of the intermedial strategies upon audiences, at key stages of the performance’s development. A number of common denominators, directly connected to the effect of the various intermedial configurations upon spectatorship, can be clearly identified based on repetitive patterns identified in reception, as acknowledged by reviews and scholarly research. Further on, in Chapter 4 – through the detailed analysis of the intermedial strategies of mise-enscene for each solo – it will be demonstrated that such denominators tend to reflect the audience’s perception, highlighting a particular type involvement with performance and leading to a possibly suitable conclusion regarding contemporary spectatorship in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre. However, before proceeding to the in-depth analysis of Lepage’s solos, a further theoretical framework, aiming to establish those aspects of contemporary spectatorship that are relevant to the director’s practice, has to be configured. The present chapter will be divided into three subchapters. The first subchapter (3.1) engages with the key studies that theorize audience in theatre and performance, attempting to trace those elements that lead to a potentially viable model of contemporary spectatorship in relation to the main focus of this book. Theories developed by Herbert Blau (1990), Susan Bennett (1997), Kennedy (2009) and Oddey and White (2009) will constitute the object of scrutiny. The second subchapter (3.2) will address, from an interdisciplinary perspective informed by media and theatre studies, key issues related to contemporary spectatorship. Based on the supposition of theatre as a medium, the shift in spectatorship caused by the pervasive mediatization of Western culture and the subsequent changes that occurred in the spectator’s perceptive abilities will be discussed, drawing on theoretical findings by Walter Benjamin (1935 [1968]), Marshall McLuhan (1964), Jonathan Crary (1990 and 1999) and Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin (1999). The acknowledged shift in spectatorship will be further

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situated in relation to the notions of “live” and “mediatized,” as theorized by Philip Auslander (2000 and 2002). The chapter proposes that the alternation of the “live” and “mediatized” provides a specific alternation of distance in perception and ultimately performs an intermedial effect upon the spectator, identified as key in the director’s practice. In subchapter (3.3) the theoretical framework developed will be used to observe the key parameters in spectatorship in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre work.

3.1. Audience and Spectatorship in Theatre Studies One of the most controversial, yet frequently quoted definitions of audience stems from Herbert Blau, who, in the introduction to his seminal book Audience,3 maintains: If the audience is not altogether an absence, it is by no means a reliable presence. Today when there’s a semblance of gathered public, it is usually looked at askance by the most seminal practitioners in the theatre, as it was by Brecht and Artaud, and by social and critical theorists. Such an audience seems like the merest facsimile of remembered community paying its respects not so much to the still-echoing signals of a common set of values but to the better-forgotten remains of the most exhausted illusions. There are times, it seems, when the only signal to be heard is a residual friction of self-reflection in the orts and fragments – the bricolage of spectacular consciousness –, which is the echo of Narcissus (1990, 1, emphasis in original).

Blau’s (passionate) assertion above and his further argumentation regarding the notion of audience draw on quasi-continuous references to post-modern performance and psychoanalytical, predominantly Lacanian theory. In attempting to provide a theoretical model, Blau looks at the notion of gaze in relation to live performance and the historically developed power relationship between audience and stage, highlighting the mirroring effect as one of the main results. The scholar’s theorization 3

Blau describes the project of his study as follows: “I shall use the audience as the nuclear image around which will cluster various concepts and issues of the theater itself, from questions of performance to those of reception, from theater as a cultural institution to the now-ubiquitous alternatives in theater and the other arts, as well as the voluminous secretion of theater into the rhetoric and psychopathology of everyday life” (1990, 30).

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tends, nevertheless, to cast a rather pessimistic view upon the status of contemporary spectatorship, which – I suggest – does not necessarily reflect (all) current developments of Western practice. Blau observes a diminution of the liveliness and communion/community aspects of the theatre experience, considered by the author as elements specific and necessary for any theatre situation. The scholar sees this phenomenon as a consequence of the mediatization processes at play in contemporary culture. He diagnoses a thinning out of the public sphere, due to the advent of the image as dominant in the present cultural landscape. Drawing on Roland Barthes’ rhetoric of the image (1977 [1964]), Blau suggests that the substantial impact of the image leads to the transformation of the present culture into a world of spectacle, a mere appearance, characterized by illusory transparency and proximity, with no deeper or unifying meaning attached to it. A direct consequence of this widespread phenomenon resides – according to the scholar – in the fact that contemporary theatre spectators have no common language to refer to in the act of reception (Blau 1990, 2). Further on, Blau postulates (with irony) that contemporary developments in the status of spectatorship are the result of an emancipation process that started three centuries ago,4 and a direct consequence of intensifications of power relationships between “audience” and “stage.” Consequently, even if the audience is now increasingly treated – as the scholar acknowledges – as a reference point by the stage, it is rather often “hypnotically subdued” to the influence of the latter and its discourses. Tracking down historical developments of this relationship, Blau suggests that, starting with the eighteen century, “the audience has been esteemed as the representative ideal of its own representations, the theater’s judge and master, deferred to as such and given the image of itself that it wants to see” (1990, 4). However, the scholar observes an “anxiety about the audience and within the audience, which sometimes appears to be absent even when it is there” (Blau 1990, 5) visible starting with the early twentieth century. Moreover, this apparent absent4

The author maintains that: “in the very space of enlightenment in which the idea of a public is formed, the community could never be an audience without being, generically, divided from itself – as the individual spectator is divided in consciousness by the neurological gap, which is, however you look at it, listen as you will, a metaphysical abyss between the perceptions of eye and ear” (Blau 1990, 11). Thus – according to the scholar – the gap developed even further, as part of the historical development of individuality, to the point to which, in the twentieth century, the notion of individuality itself has been blown out into “scraps, orts and pieces” in which audiences have to recognize themselves.

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mindedness of the audience has been paradoxically intensified by the naturalistic conventions in theatre, seeking to provide increasing intimacy inside the theatrical apparatus and aiming to “hand-in” the power to the spectator, through the gaze. As a (healthy) counter-reaction to the pervasive naturalistic tendencies in Western theatre and an attempt to undermine de absent-mindedness/passivity of the spectators, the author puts forward Brecht’s work, postulating that in his practice there was “a willingness to forgo the blessed moment of intimacy for the rigorous moment of perception, in the interests of which it becomes strategically necessary to restore the scrupulous distance” (Blau 1990, 6). In other words, Blau relates an ideal perception, in terms of theatre spectatorship, to the establishment of a particular distance between the audience and stage, which, in fact, leads to the possibility of enhanced perception and an overall awareness of performance, connected to a diminution of the emotional involvement that appears to be interpreted as a potentially “intoxicating” factor in the context. Blau locates the essence of contemporary spectatorship – whether related to naturalistic theatre or other, alternative practices – to the notion of the gaze, which he describes as “endemic,” “obdurate” and converting what “is palpably out there to the delectable image of the metonymic I, that maybe malefic version of the viewing subject itself” (1990, 6). Thus, the scholar connects spectatorship to a field that is mainly visual, “in which the figure of the audience arises and disappears, seduced by looking on what, through the duplicities of its own image, it cannot seeall the more when it is charmed by performance” (Blau 1990, 6). Consequently, contemporary theatre becomes mainly the site of the scopic drive,5 “with the watchers watching the watchers watch” (Blau 1990, 7). Further on, drawing on psychoanalytical theory, the scholar proposes the following model for the audience behaviour: The audience […] is not so much a mere congregation of people as a body of thought and desire. It does not exist before the play but is initiated or precipitated by it; it is not an entity to begin with but a consciousness constructed. The audience is what happens when, performing the signs and passwords of a play; something postulates itself and unfolds in response. That is a matter of subjectivity but also of historical process, 5

Although the term is used several times by the scholar throughout his study, no direct reference (or discussion) is provided from Laura Mulvey’s (1975) concept of the scopic drive, originally coined in relation to cinematic spectatorship (see Bibliography). Therefore, the assumption here is that the notion is transferred from film to theatre studies, based on the psychoanalytical insights that imbue Blau’s theorization of audience much like Mulvey’s argumentation.

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subjectivity underwritten or, in the Freudian sense, over-determined. The history of drama records but also prompts the double unfolding of this equivocal dialectic. […] Gathered in the audience – which elicits thought to the degree that it resists definition – are issues of representation, repression, otherness, the politics of the unconscious, ideology and power. In the perceptual dynamics of the audience [there] are questions of memory, mirroring, perspective and the spatializing of thought itself, its sitting in speculation (Blau, 1990, 25-26).

Attempting to describe the mechanism of reception in theatre, Blau puts forward the notion of distance in connection to the senses – also, central to the focus of this study – and provides again – a psychoanalytical reading: All the distances that we create and keep around us are dictated by the fear of some unknown thing in the distance. […] One of these distances is theater, which posits itself in distance. There is, moreover, a kind of graduated voyeurism in the history of theater. It has to do with how different periods distance themselves from the object being looked at, the body of performance, a kind of scopic distance that maintains the scopic drive or, at critical junctures of history, seems to arouse the passion to abolish all distance and cancel the drive entirely. There is, as we know functionally in the theater, the distance of looking and the distance of listening, both of which are determined largely by the material arrangement of theater space, the architecture of perception. Sight and hearing are, classically, senses at a distance, as opposed to the immediacy not only of touch but of taste and smell. The classical theater, in the tradition of voyeurism, keeps apart the object and the perceiving organ (eye, ear). Periodically in the theater we want to reduce this distance, if not abolish it, modulate it for intimacy, bringing the generative organ-the apparent source of the scopic drive, which Freud speaks of as erotogeniccloser in to the object, as if anticipating a crossover from the distancing senses and the visceral (Blau 1990, 85-87, emphasis in original).

This proposition finds connecting points with Ben Chaim’s view on distance discussed in the Introduction (pp. 19-25). Both scholars identify the “manipulation of distance” as a constitutive element of modernist and contemporary theatre practices. Although Blau seemingly resents the proliferation of media (and their related technologies) for their impact upon theatre craft and spectatorship,6 he admits that there is an intensely visual reflex inscribed 6 Blau maintains: “It was bad enough when the theater had to be rescued from theater, but with the advent of the camera, the resources of the Imaginary are overwhelming. In the world of instant replay, the theater remains, in its

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in the medium of theatre itself, a reflex whose intensification can be related to the development of the theatrical apparatus in a changing medial landscape (1990, 100-101). The activity of perception in theatre is, consequently, defined as a “work of repression, resistance and overlooking,” involving predominantly the visual sense (1990, 203), the difference being that, in contemporaneity, perceptual habits have become less contemplative, more spontaneous, and, as the present is a space ‘on the move’ with the zone of contact constantly widening, a corresponding change in the structures of perception ensues (1990, 250-251). Thus, a more quickly witted and aware audience is liable to occur, the downside being an obvious commodification of perception. Also, as a consequence of the intense exposure to different forms of mediatization, an extension of the fantasy, in a commodified version, leads to a de-centered spectatorial landscape. Blau postulates: In a peculiar irony of our technological world, the new dominant forms that are helping to make it obsolete are – if not institutionally, in the commodification of fantasy – extending it. I am of course referring to film, with its diegetical inheritance from theatre, and television, which in paratactical ways recycles the familiar narrative. As I suggested parenthetically before, both Brecht and Benjamin picked up mixed signals from the age of mechanical reproduction: on the one hand, technology would break the auratic forms; on the other, as montage and bricolage, they would return as critique and then be appropriated as commodity (1990, 343- 44, emphasis in original).

In sum, Blau’s theorization of the audience provides useful insights on the issue of spectatorial perception in theatre and recognizes the phenomenon of distance7 as quintessentially involved in the act of productive aspect, a rudimentary craft, dilatory in the body, its objects made by hand”(1990, 142). 7 Another parenthetical but useful insight related to the phenomenon of distance in theatre is provided by Blau drawing on Denis Bablet (a scholar of scenography). Bablet maintains that there are “thresholds of distance in perception. In an enclosed theater space things are modified at twelve to thirteen meters and at eighteen to twenty meters” (Bablet in Blau 1990, 34). Drawing on Bablet’s observations, Blau postulates that: “whatever the space, the architectonics of distance is still subject to the (un)synchronous functioning of (even the most radically separated) elements of theater, from lighting to costumes – their intensity, texture, size – to the nature of seating, frontal, curved, or in the round, and whether or not the theater has walls, ambient and internal sound, the density of the text, the style of acting, verbal, nonverbal, gestural magnitudes of thought, not to mention the aptitudes and habits of the spectator himself”(1990, 344).

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contemporary perception. However, the rather exclusive focus on the notion of the gaze and its articulations, as well as the author’s reluctance towards what he considers to be the pervasive commodification of the senses resulting from media and technological developments limits the scope of his theoretical endeavor, in light of its own focus, and tends to cast a rather pessimistic view upon the condition of theatre spectatorship nowadays. Nevertheless, a range of contemporary practices – amongst which Robert Lepage’s theatre – contradicts Blau’s pessimism and tends to highlight an enhancement of spectatorship in relation to multi- and/or intermedial configurations. The focus on perception enhancement leads to the opening up of new horizons for experience, which do not necessarily lead to forms of voyeurism, escapism or passivity in reception; they rather tend to relate to an added self-reflexive layer in the construction of performance and the associated dramaturgical strategies. The other influential study, recurrently used as a reference point in any discussion of contemporary spectatorship, belongs to Susan Bennett. In Theatre Audiences: A Theory of Production and Reception (1997) the scholar posits the spectator “at the nexus of production and reception” (vii). Her argument is mainly concerned with “the material conditions for the production and reception of theatre as it was and is construed in cultural practice” (1997, vii). Bennett’s project is to put forward a model of the audience’s experience of theatre that relies on two frames: The outer frame is concerned with theatre as a cultural construct through the idea of the theatrical event, the selection of material for production, and the audience’s definitions and expectations of a performance. The inner frame contains the event itself and, in particular, the spectator’s experience of a fictional stage world. This frame encompasses production strategies, ideological overcoding, and the material conditions of performance. It is the intersection of these two frames, which forms the spectator’s cultural understanding, and experience of theatre. Beyond this, the relationship between the frames is always seen as interactive. Cultural assumptions affect performances, and performances rewrite cultural assumptions (Bennett, 1997, 1-2).

Like Blau, Bennett maintains that the notion of audience is historically construed and considers the relationship between stage and audience variable and depending on several cultural and political factors. She postulates that in any “production-reception contract the audience’s response will be shaped by the general system of cultural relations” (1997, 33) and that, within that system, the “receptive process will be immediately directed by the material conditions of production and the positioning of the world on stage vis-à-vis its extra-theatrical referents”

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(33). Attempting to provide a comparative historiographical contextualization, the author suggests that Greek theatre maintained a more uninterrupted and flexible relationship with its spectators, due to the direct involvement of the society in the process of theatre production, whilst naturalistic theatre, with its specific conventions of staging and the ways in which the theatrical apparatus is used in performance, favors passivity on the side of the spectator. Nevertheless, Bennett highlights that the numerous disruptions and challenges to the naturalistic conventions (i.e. aesthetic codes), characteristic to Western theatre practice throughout the twentieth century, have led to a “productive and emancipated spectator” (1997, 3) and she maintains that this spectator makes the actual object of her study. The author insightfully argues – with examples from Tommaso Marinetti, Vsevolod Meyerhold, Erwin Piscator, Sergei Eisenstein, etc. – that almost all reactions to naturalistic theatre acknowledged audience as a creative aspect of their process thus connecting, implicitly, with Ben Chaim’s discussion of distance (see Introduction pp. 19-24). In all these instances, the spectator was confronted with a more direct role, or even co-opted in the theatrical event, the scholar suggests (Bennett 1997, 4). Bennett’s focus on the cultural conditions of spectatorship leaves limited space for aspects pertaining to individual spectator response. On this particular matter, she draws on reader’s response theory (borrowed from literary studies), mainly findings by Keir Elam (1980 and 1988) and Wolfgang Iser (1974 and 1978) regarding the notion of implied spectator, which she corroborates with the Jaussian concept of the horizon of expectations (1982 and 1982a) and Christian Metz’s theory of cinematic spectatorship (1976) in order to construe a predominantly semiotic model of theatre spectatorship, in which different levels of cultural competence are inscribed. As a corollary to this model, Bennett highlights Anne Ubersfeld’s proposition (1982) that the most significant aspect of spectatorship is related to the cognitive pleasure, the pleasure of getting involved in the interpretation of “the multiplicity of signs, both transparent and opaque” performed on stage (Bennett 1997, 72-73). Regarding the role of the contemporary spectator as an active and emancipated element in the production of theatrical events Bennett observes: Where audiences are consulted and involved in the structuring of the theatrical event, and are encouraged (at least in the immediate postproduction period) to translate their reading of that event into action, then their role no longer maintains the fixity that dominant cultural practice assumes. In this way, the production-reception process acts bi-

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directionally in broader cultural perspectives. Cultural systems, individual horizons of expectations, and accepted theatrical conventions all activate the decoding process for a specific production, but, in turn, the direct experience of that production feeds back to revise a spectator’s expectations, to establish or challenge conventions, and, occasionally, to reform the boundaries of culture. When this action takes place at the interface of different cultures, the potential to reform those boundaries is heightened, although it may well be that the rendition of a cultural Other might serve just as well to reinforce spectators’ own cultural definitions. In any event, the experience of intercultural performance emphasizes those cultural assumptions, which underpin any production or reception process (1997, 207).

If we are to apply Bennett’s model to Lepage’s creative process, what has been termed (in Chapter 1, subchapter 1.2) as the “feedback loop-circuit” of performance integrates the audience as an important element in production, with the specification that the parameters of spectatorial involvement are particular to each original performance. Bennett makes a further observation, equally important for the purpose of this argument: [L]ike the artist [the audience], have ideas and values which are socially formed and which are similarly mediated. As the artist works within the technical means available and within the scope of artistic convention, so audiences read according to the scope and means of culturally and aesthetically constituted interpretive processes (1997, 99).

Asserting the above implicitly includes an involvement with the use of media within the theatre process. Furthermore, since contemporary culture is in a position of constant flux, similarly “methods of production and reception are redefined” (Bennett, 1997, 101) and of particular interest becomes how “theatre audiences create as well as accommodate such changes” (1997, 101). Consequently, audiences are most engaged – according to Bennett – when the performances they attend “do not fall into their cultural experience, […] resist or deny the usual channels of decoding” (103). In such instances, as the scholar suggests: The spectator serves as a psychological participant and empathetic collaborator in the maintenance and ‘truth’ of the fictive world onstage, is ‘taken out of himself’ and becomes for the time part of an ad hoc collective consciousness, ready to find meaning and significance in the events taking place onstage. Thus, the theatrical occasion involves a double consciousness for all concerned. The performance takes place on at least two levels of ‘reality’ simultaneously and within at least two frames. The outer frame always

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This connects – in terms of cultural production and impact – to the Lepagean practice, with its double focus on intermediality and the enhancement of spectatorship. Nevertheless, albeit useful in interpreting spectatorship from a combined cultural studies and reader’s theory perspective, Bennett’s theorization does not address the experience of performances that rely on multi- or intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene. Moreover, the theoretical model proposed for the theatre spectator – relying mainly on semiotics and reader’s response – finds its area of application limited here, due to the: (1) inherent limitation of semiotics (as a field of enquiry) in relation to formal/medial aspects of performance and their impact of upon the spectatorial sensorium, and (2) the model’s failure to account for the multi-sensorial ways in which spectators tend to engage with such performances. In conclusion, the model of spectatorship proposed by Bennett, although of seminal importance for the field of theatre studies and potentially useful for an understanding of the cultural nexus of production and reception in the case of Lepage’s practice, does not offer sufficient detail for analyzing the key aspects involved in spectatorship, in the situation of intermedial performance. In fact, both models discussed above – Blau’s and Bennett’s – fail to address the issue of contemporary spectatorship in matters of perception, when consistently altered by the presence of multi-medial and/or intermedial configurations on stage. Furthermore, Denis Kennedy in The Spectator and The Spectacle: Audiences in Modernity and Postmodernity (2009) and Alison Oddey and Cristine White’s Modes of Spectating (2009), although more recent engagements with contemporary spectatorship and providing, other, useful insights on the matter, avoid the constitution of new models and aim to address, instead, some of the (many) gaps in theorization either by widening the interdisciplinary framework that potentially intersects (philosophically) with the fields of theatre and performances studies, or by providing a set of in-depth descriptive analyses of particular study cases, an attitude confirming (indirectly) the dangers of hubris identified by McAuley in her discussion of spectatorship. In The Spectator and The Spectacle... Dennis Kennedy acknowledges that “[a] spectator is a corporeal presence but a slippery concept” (2009, 1) and diagnoses, based on corroborated findings from film, sociology, media, theatre and performance studies, that there are “many tales to tell

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about spectators, but there is no single story” (2009, 4)8. Whilst the scholar rightfully observes that a unifying discourse is impossible and would be, in fact, misleading, he attempts to address some of the problems pertaining to the theorization of contemporary spectatorship through an interdisciplinary reading of its conditions, highlighting predominantly a practice of assistance with performance and its spectacle. Four intertwining foci define Kennedy’s project: (1) a shift in analysis towards a range of topics considered of relevance: the rise of the director, the avant-garde, the effect of cinema on live performance, tourism, gambling and sports; all topics that nuance the complex role of the spectator in contemporary culture; (2) an investigation of modes of contemporary performance (i.e. theatre, television, sport, ritual, tourism and gaming) which uncover particular elements that shape spectatorial experience and highlight how this might be construed; (3) an acknowledgement of the historically and culturally contingent aspects of spectatorship beyond the fields of theatre and performance studies and, therefore, requiring an interdisciplinary reading based on methodologies borrowed from qualitative sociology, the history of politics and economy, media studies, psychology and art history, in order to avoid the pitfalls of a “closed-circuit” approach, and (4) a concentration on the wider philosophical aspects of spectatorship rather than on the specificity of experiences (Kennedy 2009, 3-5). The scholar postulates that the presence of the spectator assisting the spectacle and not the medium through which the spectacle is represented is “the message” here and that, in particular instances, engaging with semiotic readings for the “creation of meaning” as an object in performance becomes superfluous. Consequently, Kennedy identifies, in postmodernity, as part of its condition, three types of audience: (1) the simple audience – the traditional gathering of spectators attending a live event of performative nature, (2) the mass audience – the audience made 8

In the introductory chapter of his study (pp. 9-13) Kennedy surveys the field of enquiry regarding spectatorship by drawing on relevant findings from theatre, film or media studies, whether book-length studies by Herbert Blau (1990), Susan Bennett (1997), Jill Dollan (1991) or Sue-Ellen Case (1996); earlier theorizations of spectatorship by Christian Metz (1982 [1977]) and Laura Mulvey (1975), and studies from theatre and performance that address partially or indirectly the matter by: Patrice Pavis (1982), Marco de Marinis (1993), Marvin Carlson (1993), Christophe Balme (2007), Hans Thies Lehmann (2006), Wilmar Sauter (2000) and Bruce McConachie (2003); only to conclude that a unifying methodology is impossible and that ultimately spectating “is about more than reception” (Kennedy 2009,13).

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of scattered spectators, particular for mass-media and film, and (3) the diffuse audience – constituted by spectators in “media-saturated societies,” continually surrounded by representations of the spectacle (Kennedy 2009, 5). These categories – as the scholar suggests – are not absolute. Combinations can and are likely to occur, as part of the same event. Moreover, for a nuanced understanding of spectatorial experience, Auslander’s notion of “liveness” (discussed later on, in this chapter) is considered essential. Thus, Kennedy’s study constitutes itself more as a collection of essays that offer – through valuable interdisciplinary insights – a wider, rather philosophical perspective upon modern and contemporary spectatorship rather than a novel theorization of the notion. On the other hand, Oddey and White’s Modes of Spectating... overtly aims to side-step problems pertaining to a unifying theorization – also considered impossible and/or undesirable –, but for reasons of more pragmatic nature.9 The scholars offer a collection of case studies by various authors – many of them, also, practitioners – that engages with a range of aspects considered central to the complex experience of contemporary spectatorship. Through the selection proposed, the book offers an inclusive, descriptive approach towards notions of spectatorship, mainly focused on participatory, immersive or interactive practices, and identifies a range of relationships that suggest thematic synergies between “interactive media and youth culture; imaginative escape; identity and the self-conscious spectators, and the site of spectating” (Oddey and White 2009, 14). Starting from the assumption that today’s experience of performance is mainly predicated on visuality and elements pertaining to medial apparatuses that enhance it, the scholars propose the screen as a notion central to the experience of performance – at theoretical, symbolic, material and (even) embodied levels – and, in fact, framing not only the most diverse range of performative experiences, but the experience of contemporary life itself. Instead of searching for a new model of spectatorship, they propose modes of spectating which, according to the scholars’ (material) classification – headset, television, internet, film, games, exhibition, theatre, walks, mobile phone and computer (2009, 13) – becomes, throughout the collection of studies, a rather pragmatic, heterogeneous, ambitioning to be inclusive/umbrella term that covers a range of experiences whose purpose is to turn members of the audience into spectators-performers-protagonists of the performance, rather than a term that would help towards a further theorization of contemporary spectatorship, especially in relation to this study. Notions of medial 9

For further details see the introductive chapter of their book, pp. 7-14.

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interplay and perception are implicit throughout the book, yet never discussed theoretically in a way that could suggest a possible identification of patterns across the case studies presented and (potentially) lead to a more detailed articulation of theory. Consequently, in order to reach a more effective/nuanced understanding of what has been acknowledged (already) by theorists as a significant shift in contemporary spectatorial perception, yet never thoroughly discussed in relation to theatre and the related medial developments of the past decades, I suggest a closer look at media theory studies applicable to this matter, in order to bring more light.

3.2. Spectatorship in Media Studies: The Problem of Contemporary Perception As early as 1935, in his seminal study The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,10 Walter Benjamin observed a significant change in the audience’s approach towards the work of art, which he considered due to the impact of reproduction technologies and the advent of the new media at the time, film in particular. The author states: Around 1900, technical reproduction had reached a standard that not only permitted it to reproduce all transmitted works of art and thus to cause the most profound change in their impact upon the public; it also had captured a place of its own among the artistic processes. For the study of this standard nothing is more revealing than the nature of the repercussions that these two different manifestations – the reproduction of works of art and the art of the film – have had on art in its traditional form (Benjamin 1968 [1935], 733).

In maintaining that modes of sensorial perception change alongside with “humanity’s entire mode of existence,” Benjamin puts forward the assumption that the manner in which “human sense perception is 10 Benjamin’s arguments, related to the impact of media upon perception (the apperception in the case of film), as well as to the changes in contemporary spectatorship, have been instrumental for scholars and therefore frequently employed as a key reference in recent theoretical developments pertaining to the field of media and theatre studies. The authors discussed further in this chapter make no exception. Bolter and Grusin, Auslander, etc., all refer, in developing their theoretical argumentations, to Benjamin’s seminal findings on the matter. Therefore, Benjamin’s essay is considered a logical starting point for this study, too, in construing a theoretical framework that would lead to the articulation of a contemporary model of theatrical spectatorship informed by media studies.

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organized, the medium in which it is accomplished, is determined not only by nature, but by historical circumstances as well” (1968 [1935], 734). Furthermore, by suggesting that human perception is historically determined, the author proposes that changes in contemporary perception are the result of a “decay of the aura”11 of the work of art, a phenomenon that he considers to impact substantially on the state of reception, altering it inescapably. Although the scholar tends to maintain the discussion12 in (rather) general terms, he offers a useful descriptive parallel between the perception of an actor’s performance on stage, in a live situation, and the perception of an actor’s performance on screen: The artistic performance of a stage actor is definitely presented to the public by the actor in person; that of the screen actor, however, is presented by a camera, with a twofold consequence. The camera that presents the performance of the film actor to the public need not respect the performance as an integral whole. Guided by the cameraman, the camera continually changes its position with respect to the performance. The sequence of positional views which the editor composes from the material supplied constitutes the completed film. It comprises certain factors of movement, which are in reality those of the camera, not to mention special camera angles, close-ups, etc. Hence, the performance of the actor is subjected to a series of optical tests. This is the first consequence of the fact that the actor’s performance is presented by means of a camera. Also, the film actor lacks the opportunity of the stage actor to adjust to the audience during his performance, since he does not present his performance to the audience in person. This permits the audience to take the position of a critic, without experiencing any personal contact with the actor. The audience’s identification with the 11

Benjamin puts forward the notion of aura as an instrumental concept for understanding the switch of accent in the contemporary perception of the work of art. He maintains: “The concept of aura […] proposed above with reference to historical objects [that is, the works of art produced previously to the age questioned by his study] may usefully be illustrated with reference to the aura of natural ones. We define the aura of the latter as the unique phenomenon of a distance, however close it may be […] the desire of contemporary masses to bring things ‘closer’ spatially and humanly, which is just as ardent as their bent toward overcoming the uniqueness of every reality by accepting its reproduction. Every day, the urge grows stronger to get hold of an object at very close range by way of its likeness, its reproduction” (Benjamin 1968 [1935], 735). 12 Benjamin’s examples are mostly taken from film or visual arts (painting, sculpture, etc.). However, in his approach, the author embraces, albeit on a general tone, the wider spectrum of contemporary arts and their reception, including what is termed now as live or performative arts. Therefore, the observations made by Benjamin are relevant in this context.

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actor is really an identification with the camera. Consequently the audience takes the position of the camera; its approach is that of testing. This is not the approach to which cult values may be exposed (1968 [1935], 739-40).

In other words, Benjamin suggests that the advent of film as a popular medium introduced a new way of seeing for the spectator, who became potentially more distanced and critically aware of the work of art, a change that ultimately altered the condition of spectatorship. An alteration of distance brought forward by the camera use and leading to a combined effect of immediacy and hypermediacy13 is, in fact, described here as a novel element in perception, with the twofold consequence that the spectator developed a more mediated/critical perspective upon what s/he saw whilst receiving the information in a state of distraction14 caused by the decay of the cult value inscribed in the aura of the work of art. A further consequence of the changes occurring in the status of the work of art – suggested Benjamin – is that the distinction between author and public was about to lose its basic character: The difference becomes merely functional and it may vary from case to case. At any moment the reader is ready to turn into a writer. As expert, which he had to become willy-nilly in an extremely specialized work process, even if only in some minor respect, the reader gains access to authorship (1968 [1935], 742).

Therefore, the distance between the work of art and the spectator has been altered twice: (1) through the occurrence of a new way of seeing, and (2) through the increased literacy/expertise of the spectator in matters pertaining to the conventionality of new media, which ultimately provided more insight into the creative process. Consequently – in 13

Benjamin looked in detail at the impact of camera techniques and camera movements (close-ups, liftings and lowerings) on spectatorial perception, with a focus on matters of space and time perception. For more details, see Benjamin’s study, pp. 746-747. 14 This “state of distraction” – an effect of the complex network of consequences of new media – has been a rather common assumption in media studies, in relation to the modernist and contemporary spectator/viewer/observer. However, while the effect has been obvious for everybody, its cause has been theorized in different ways. Benjamin proposes the decay of the aura, McLuhan relates this to the functioning of human senses and psychology (the Narcissus-narcosis effect), Crary links it to an intricate interrelationship established between a number of historical and cultural factors, on the one hand, and to the specificity of the human sensorial apparatus, on the other hand.

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Benjamin’s terms – an emancipation of the spectator inevitably takes place due to the specific media conditions brought in by “the age of mechanical reproduction.” The author’s conclusion with regards to changes in spectatorship (at the time) was that they were the result of two polar opposite states – distraction and concentration –, paradoxically, transforming the spectator into an absent-minded examiner.15 Several decades later, Jonathan Crary in Techniques of the Observer: On Vision and Modernity in the Nineteenth Century (1990) takes further the study of the historically determined changes in modern perception, from a media theory perspective. The scholar identifies a crisis in perception starting already in the eighteenth century, which he relates to a “loss of the real” in times of modernization, and suggests a subsequent altered mode of reception as a consequence of the impact of the new technical means. The central proposition of his study is that “a new kind of observer”16 took shape in Europe in the early decades of the nineteenth

15 Benjamin explains: “Distraction and concentration form polar opposites which may be stated as follows: A man who concentrates before a work of art is absorbed by it. He enters into this work of art the way legend tells of the Chinese painter when he viewed his finished painting. In contrast, the distracted mass absorbs the work of art. […] [R]eception in a state of distraction, which is increasing noticeably in all fields of art and is symptomatic of profound changes in apperception, finds in film its true means of exercise. The film with its shock effect meets this mode of reception halfway. The film makes the cult value recede into the background not only by putting the public in the position of the critic, but also by the fact that at the movies this position requires no attention. The public is an examiner, but an absent-minded one” (1968 [1935], 749). 16 Crary distinguishes between the terms “observer” and “spectator.” He explains his preference for the term “observer” as follows: “Most dictionaries make little semantic distinction between the words ‘observer’ and ‘spectator,’ and common usage render them effectively synonymous. I have chosen the word observer mainly for its etymological resonance. Unlike spectare, the Latin root for ‘spectator,’ the root for ‘observe’ does not literally mean ‘to look at.’ Spectator also carries specific connotations, especially in the context of nineteen-century culture that I prefer to avoid - namely, of one who is a passive onlooker at a spectacle, as at an art gallery or theater. In a sense, more pertinent to my study observare means to ‘conform one’s action, to comply with,’ as in observing rules, codes, regulations and practices. Though obviously one who sees, an observer is one who sees within a prescribed set of possibilities; one who is embedded in a system of conventions and limitations. And by ‘conventions’ I mean to suggest far more than representational practices. If it can be said there is an observer specific to the nineteenth century, or to any period, it is only an effect of an irreducibly heterogeneous system of discursive, social, technological, and

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century. While the observer of the seventeenth and eighteenth century – according to Crary – was a disembodied figure whose visual experience was modeled on the relations of the camera obscura,17 the new observer was given a body with its subjectivity, different perspectives, inconsistencies, gaps and – of course – fissures in perception. In his later study Suspensions of Perception: Attention, Spectacle and Modern culture (1999), Crary takes an even closer look at the problem of perception,18 as it has been construed both theoretically and through various artistic practices throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and – much like Benjamin before – identifies “contemplation,” “absorption” and “concentration,” as modernist forms of attention. Crary connects his theoretical argument to the issue of visuality – central, also, in Techniques of the Observer… –, but he considers the concept not especially productive in this context, in spite of the massive theoretical attention given to the notion by studies in the field, due to its restrictive focus on ocular perception, on seeing, and the subsequent neglection of the other senses involved in the process of reception. The author proposes instead the concept of the attention,19 able in his opinion to provide a more complex and accurate perspective upon the issue of perception starting with modernity. Crary maintains – much like Benjamin at his time – that “the ways in which we intently listen to, look at, or institutional relations. There is no observing subject prior to this continually shifting field” (Crary 1990, 5-6). 17 Crary maintains that the model of camera obscura, through its connections to the Albertian window, perspectival viewing and the traditional theatre apparatus, presupposes a set of “fixed relations of interior/exterior” and proposes that what is outside is “an undemarcated terrain on which the distinction between internal sensation and external signs is irrevocably blurred” (1990, 24). 18 Nuancing his use of the term “perception” Crary states: “My use of the problematic term ‘perception’ is primarily a way of indicating a subject definable in terms of more than the single-sense modality of sight, in terms also of hearing and touch, and most importantly, of irreducibly mixed modalities, which, inevitably, get little or not analysis within ‘visual studies.’ At the same time I want to suggest how late nineteenth century investigations of perception were heavily invested in restoring to it some of the original Latin resonances – the sense of perception as ‘catching’ or ‘taking captive,’ even as the impossibility of such fixedness or possession became clear. In fact, by the 1880s, perception, for many, was synonymous with ‘those sensations to which attention has been turned’” (1999, 3). 19 The scholar postulates: “The roots of the word attention, in fact, resonate with a sense of ‘tension,’ of being ‘stretched,’ and also of ‘waiting.’ It implies the possibility of a fixation, on holding something in wonder or contemplation, in which the attentive subject is both immobile and ungrounded” (Crary 1999, 10).

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concentrate on anything have a deeply historical character” (1999, 1) and are, thus, situated in a position of constant development. In fact, Crary’s project is to demonstrate: [H]ow within modernity, vision is only one layer of a body that could be captured, shaped, or controlled by a range of external techniques; at the same time, […] only one part of a body capable of evading institutional capture and inventing new forms, affects, and intensities (1999, 3).

The scholar defines attention as “the means by which an individual observer can transcend those subjective limitations and make perception its own, and […] at the same time a means by which a perceiver becomes open to control and annexation by external agencies” (Crary 1999, 5, emphasis in original). In other words, Crary identifies a two-way relationship between individual perception and the cultural object subjected to attention. The works of art he chooses as examples for analysis/discussion and the specific aesthetic practices20 on which these works were founded – he suggests – widened the perceptual field in modernity. Crary maintains that “each of them made unprecedented discoveries about the indeterminacy of an attentive perception” (1999, 9), and highlights that the very instabilities created “could be the basis for a reinvention of perceptual experience and of representational practices” (9). Furthermore, the scholar postulates that it is possible to see one crucial aspect of modernity “as an ongoing crisis of attentiveness” (13). In conclusion, he claims that attention implies an inevitable 20

Among the examples discussed by Crary are: (1) Tom Gunning’s notion of the “technology of attractions” in early cinema, a hybrid phenomenon understood as a strategy of engaging an active (that is, attentive) spectator; (2) Muybridge’s photographic experiments, related to the reorganization of perception by exposing not the naturalness of vision, but its systematic and construed character, where segmentation and non-homogeneity lead to the opening of a technological pole in the organization of a spectacle; and (3) Wagner’s attempt to establish a modern “théatron,” were vision was to play a crucial role in opening new fields of perception. In Wagner’s case, by eliminating the lights in the house and designing a space that favoured frontal/perspectival vision, the fictional aspects of performance were intentionally enhanced and the directorial will to master all aspects of the spectacle proposed via the mise-en-scene provoked in the spectator a state of regression/fascination and daydreaming, which was later to be reexperienced within the frame of cinematic apparatus and the classical mainstream Hollywood movie. Thus, the audience was absorbed and dominated, the gaze fixed, and a calculated confusion of distance separated the viewer from the spectacle (Crary 1999, 254). All examples were, one could argue, examples of intermedial practice, at the time of their development.

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fragmentation of the visual and, by extension, of the wider sensorial field, which makes the previously sought homogeneous coherence in perception unsustainable theoretically, especially for modern and contemporary practices. Thus, modern distraction is not merely a disruption of a stable and natural kind of attention, but an effect of many attempts to produce attentiveness in the human subject. In his analysis – based, as it is, on the notion of “reception in a state of distraction” – Crary identifies how perception and attention have been transformed “alongside the emergence of new technological forms of spectacle, display, projection, attraction, and recording” (1999, 2). Attention becomes, thus, defined as “a constellation of texts and practices […] much more than a question of the gaze, of looking, of the subject only as a spectator” (2). Consequently, the scholar maintains that contemporary culture, driven by notions of spectacle, is not founded on the necessity of “making a subject see, but rather on strategies in which individuals are isolated, separated, and inhabit time as disempowered” (3, emphasis in original). Similarly, counter-forms of attention are neither exclusively nor essentially visual, but “rather constituted as other temporalities and cognitive states such as those in trance or reverie” (1999, 3). In matters of visuality, however, Crary remains consistent with his previous assertions in Techniques of the Observer… where he suggests that the various codes that had “territorialized the field of vision for centuries” have been discarded starting with modernity, in order to allow for a “free-play of the newly constructed centrifugal forces,” where vision became “a theatre of metamorphoses and perceptions, and the perceptual shock one of the forms of modern knowledge” (1999, 8). Highlighting the critical importance of visuality in modern culture, the scholar postulates the demise of the “punctual” and “anchored” classical observer, displaced by the “unstable attentive subject, both a consumer, an agent and a subject”21 (Crary 1999, 254), and sees this as a consequence of the significant changes in the field of vision. Moreover, in theorizing 21

Referring to Benjamin’s concept of the flâneur (1968 [1935]), Crary considers this as only one mode of the observer, responding to the impact of the technologically driven age of mass reproduction. He suggests: “Perception within the context of modernity, for Benjamin, never disclosed the world as presence. One mode was the observer as flâneur, a mobile consumer of a ceaseless succession of illusory commodity-like images. But the destructive dynamism of modernization was also a condition for a vision that would resist its effects, a revivifying perception of the present caught up in its own historical afterimages” (Crary 1990, 21).

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perception, Crary distinguishes further between distance receptors such as vision, hearing, and smell (out of which vision is the primary distance receptor), allowing the extension of the limits of subjective experience beyond the physical bound, and immediate receptors like taste and touch. Perception is, thus, defined as an amalgamation of immediate and distance receptors that respond to different medial constellations constituted or developed within various artistic practices (Crary 1999, 351). This claim illustrates the main hypothesis of the present study: that, in order to enhance perception in spectatorship, the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene at work in Lepage’s theatre engage with an interplay of distance receptors, leading to a quasi-continuous alteration of distance in reception and this leads, as a consequence, to an enhancement of the sensorial involvement within the overall act of perception, to increased attentiveness. In corroborating Benjamin and Crary’s findings, it becomes clear that – irrespective of the terminology used: spectator, public, observer, viewer, etc. – the audience member that comes in contact with the work of art starting with modernity is bound to establish a specific, historical and contingent relationship with that work, in line with the significant changes in perception engendered by the increasingly pervasive influence of (new) media. Thus, Marshall McLuhan’s postulate that media alter sense ratios is reconfirmed. Referring to the effects of medial apparatuses upon perception and bringing into discussion the role of the arts in this process, McLuhan maintains in Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (1964) that the effects of technology “do not occur at the level of opinions or concepts, but alter sense ratios or patterns of perception steadily and without any resistance” (18). One of the consequences of such an impact resides in the fact that each medium, with its technological apparatus, as it is newly developed, creates an environment regarded as “corrupt and degrading” in first instance, yet it turns its predecessor “into an art form” (McLuhan 1964, viii). The theorist suggests that the proliferation of media has generated a “whole series of new environments” and, as a consequence, “men have become aware of the arts as ‘anti-environments’ or ‘counter-environments’ that provide us with the means of perceiving the environment itself”(viii). He, also, postulates that the action of media and the associated response occur quasi-simultaneously, and he considers this effect rather related to the methodology used for discussing new media impact, than the impact upon senses. McLuhan states that: “[w] e actually live mythically and integrally, as it were, but we continue to think in the old, fragmented space and time patterns of the pre-electric

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age” (1964, 4)22. According to him, the initial impact of a new medium upon the human sensorium can be described as provoking a “fascination effect” with numbing consequences for the senses – i.e. the state of “distraction” and “absorption” identified by both Benjamin and Crary in relation to the modern and contemporary spectatorship. The way out of this “numbness” relies on media effects, too, through the creation of the “counter-environments” and the use of the hybrid principle (i.e. intermediality) as a technique of creative discovery: [T]he hybrid or the meeting of two media is a moment of truth and revelation from which new form is born. For the parallel between two media holds us on frontiers between forms that snap us of the Narcissus– narcosis. The moment of the meeting of media is a moment of freedom& release from the ordinary trance and numbness imposed by them on our senses (1964, 55).23

In other words, intermedial possibilities in the arts develop medial hybridizations significant for the advancement of media and alter the human sensorium. Bolter and Grusin highlight the utility of McLuhan’s focus on the formal aspects of media in discussing the importance of the senses and perception in terms of media effects, and connect his statements to other (seminal) findings in media studies: We need not be afraid of McLuhan’s ‘formalism,’ as long as we remember that technical forms are only one aspect of technologies that are simultaneously social and economic. McLuhan’s notion that media are extensions of the human sensorium can even be regarded as an anticipation of Donna Haraway’s cyborg. McLuhan did bring to our attention the fact that media take their meaning through interactions with the senses and the body, although feminist writers since the 1970s have elaborated this idea in ways that McLuhan did not envision24 (1999, 77). 22

According to McLuhan, the technology of literacy gave the Western man the power to act without reacting, fragmenting his perception into complete detachment and under the control of vision, the detached (or in Crary’s terms, disembodied) eye. 23 McLuhan’s claim finds an adequate illustration in the theatre work of Robert Lepage, where the hybrid (or intermedial) principle is central and has a stimulating effect upon the spectatorial sensorium, as it will be observed in detail throughout Chapter 4. 24 Bolter and Grusin’s own definition of a medium is as follows: “[A] medium is that which remediates. It is that which appropriates the techniques, forms, and social significance of other media and attempts to rival or refashion them in the

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Scholars propose a useful nuancing (though): to interpret “social forces and technical forms as two aspects of the same phenomenon” and explore media as hybrids of “technical, material, social, and economic facets” (1999, 77). They also nuance the notion of media agency in relation to contemporary culture: Media do have agency, but that agency is constrained and hybrid. To say that digital media challenge earlier media is the rhetoric of technological determinism only if technology is considered in isolation. In all cases we mean to say that the agency for cultural change is located in the interaction of formal, material, and economic logics that slip into and out of the grasp of individuals and social groups (Bolter and Grusin, 1999, 78, emphasis in original).

Thus, a corroboration of findings discussed above leads one to the conclusion that perception and the human sensorium, by extension, have been significantly altered by the development of media (and their related technologies), a process highlighted by modernity and increasingly accelerated starting with the twentieth century. The critical impact of (new) media is bi-folded: (1) there is a closing of perception that occurs, in first instance, due to what has been described as a “fascination effect,” a state of “distraction,” a “numbness” of the senses, or the “Narcissusnarcosis” effect, and (2) there is a further opening of perception, brought forward by the hybrid principle, active in intermedial configurations inside a medial product or event. The two aspects, however, sustain an intertwining relationship, which leads to the ongoing process of remediation at play in contemporary culture, as Bolter and Grusin propose. Before moving on to the more detailed discussion of issues of the “live” and “mediatized” in contemporary perception – as theorized by Auslander –, I would like to consider, for a moment, Bolter and Grusin’s implied perspective on contemporary spectatorship, developed in Remediation…. Scholars refer mainly to the context of digital media and virtual reality and consider contemporary spectatorship to be shaped by a medial environment strongly influenced by older media (i.e. photography, film, television, etc.) and newer media, of digital provenience, alike. Throughout the third section of their book-length study,25 they argue that name of the real. A medium in our culture can never operate in isolation, because it must enter into relationships of respect and rivalry with other media. […] we cannot even recognize the representational power of a medium except with reference to other media” (1999, 65). 25 For further details see Remediation…pp. 230-265.

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the process of remediation pervades contemporary culture to such an extent that, presently, media intensely and constantly remediate the self. Scholars identify an interactive, hybrid relationship between spectatorship and the remediating processes at play within the media landscape starting with modernity. Consequently, if the contemporary self is constantly subjected to medial remediation, its “ways of seeing,” human perception in general, can be defined as in a state of quasi-continuous remediation. Paraphrasing Benjamin, Bolter and Grusin argue that, in the process of remediation, each viewer/user enters a twofold relationship with the media: “[o]n one hand s/he seeks immediacy of the real in the denial of mediation. On the other, s/he seeks that immediacy through the acknowledgement and multiplication of media” (1999, 229). This intensely interactive relationship established between media and the “remediated self”26 becomes, thus, critical for understanding the complexities of contemporary spectatorship. Scholars detail: As so many media critics have recognized, we see ourselves today in and through our available media. When we look at a traditional photograph or a perspective painting we understand ourselves as the reconstituted station point of the artist or the photographer. When we watch a film or a television broadcast, we become the changing point of view of the camera. When we put on the virtual reality helmet, we are the focus of an elaborate technology for real-time, three-dimensional graphics and motion tracking. This is not to say that our identity is fully determined by media, but rather that we employ media as vehicles for defining both personal and cultural identity. As these media become simultaneously technical analogs and social expressions of our identity, we become simultaneously both the object and the subject of contemporary media. Whenever our identity is mediated in this way, it is also remediated, because we always understand a particular medium in relation to other past and present media (Bolter and Grusin 1999, 231).

In other words, authors suggest an involvement process, with performative connotations, that takes place whenever the spectator comes in contact with media artefacts and/or artistic objects and events. This connects to the need to acquire a sensation of immediacy, proximity and involvement, as part of the experience. Yet, at the same time, due to the ubiquity of medial manifestations specific to contemporary culture and the subsequently frequent alternation of distance in perception, the outcome involves a multiplicity of sensations and perceptual points of view that do not necessarily fall into the same category, or provide a 26

Term proposed by the authors for a definition of the “contemporary self.”

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holistic, unified experience. As a consequence, contemporary spectatorship becomes, then, characterized by an enhanced perceptual mobility in search for the “real,” the “authentic,” in terms of experience. Moreover, the hypermediatized environment of the present cultural economy transforms the excess of media itself into an authentic experience, precisely because of its self-referentiality. This environment involves the spectator “not through an extended and unified gaze, but through directing her attention here and there in brief moments” (1999, 54), through transforming this into an experience “of the glance rather than the gaze” (54). Thus, through an aesthetic of the glance that makes “the viewer aware of the process rather than just the product, both the process of creation and the process of viewing” are further developed (54). Attention is therefore – as Crary would say – claimed as “pure experience” and becomes, in itself, a way of participating to the medial and/or artistic process, as part of the spectator’s quest for an experience that is “real” or “authentic,” irrespective if this is provided by older or newer media, or by a variety of hybrid combinations. One last aspect needs to be mentioned here with regards to the impact of media upon perception. According to Bolter and Grusin, mediations are considered real not only because “the objects produced (photos, videos, films, paintings, CD-ROMs, etc.) circulate in the real world, but also because the act of the mediation itself functions as a hybrid and is treated much like a physical object” (1999, 59). Consequently, each act of mediation, in itself, impacts upon the human sensorium, potentially altering perception. Scholars postulate: [R]emediation is the reform in the sense that media reform reality itself. It is not that media merely reform the appearance of reality. Media hybrids (the affiliations of technical artifacts, rhetorical justifications, and social relationships) are as real as the objects of science. Media make reality over in the same way that all Western technologies have sought to reform reality (1999, 61).

Thus, in current Western theatre practice, remediation processes are either achieved through the multi-medial integration of (predominantly visual) media (older or new) within the framing medium of theatre, or through the development of various intermedial configurations that tend to fall between established medial categories (at a given time), but then, potentially, give way to new aesthetics or stylistic forms. Both aspects can be identified in Robert Lepage’s practice, and are considered by the Québécois theatre-maker relevant to the Western spectatorial context in which he operates. Moreover, Lepage’s frequent considerations – that

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highlight “technology” as an integral part of theatre since its beginnings – are proof of his openly expressed attempt towards remediating theatre throughout the creative process.27 Nuances, however, pertain to the fact that, in current theatrical developments, the presence of other media becomes increasingly complex, turning the experience of live performance into an experience that is often perceived as hypermediated. Furthermore, the frequently ostensible presence of media apparatuses within live performance brings with it a specific intensity in terms of spectatorship, by enhancing multi-sensorial aspects in perception. An effect in spectatorship is, thus, achieved through a hybrid use of artistic conventions, artifacts, and apparatuses belonging to other media, when integrated into the framing medium of theatre. The above-discussed phenomenon connects to an alteration of the status of “live” and “mediatized” in relation to perception. Phillip Auslander in his Liveness: Performance in a Mediatized Culture (2002) describes the situation as follows: Almost all live performances now incorporate the technology of reproduction, at the very least in the use of electric amplification, and sometimes to the point where they are hardly live at all. But the influence of mediatization on live events is not simply a matter of equipment […] the live event itself is shaped to the demands of mediatization (2002, 58).

Much like Benjamin, Crary and Bolter and Grusin, Auslander sees this incursion of the “mediatized” into the “live” as following a particular historical pattern. He argues that the “mediatized” form is initially modeled on the “live” – as in the case of early film and television, modeled on theatre, where television took over the claim for liveness in contemporary culture. However, the “mediatized” form eventually usurps the position of the “live” within the cultural economy. As a response, the “live” form starts to replicate the “mediatized” (Auslander 2002, 158). The process outlined by Auslander describes, in fact, the process of remediation theorized by Bolter and Grusin, from another angle. Auslander’s perspective is important in the context of this study as it breaks down the issue of perception into notions of the “live” and the “mediatized,” two categories quintessential in relation to contemporary perception and directly connected to the discussion of intermediality and 27 Lepage’s opinion (see Monteverdi 2003, 2) is supported also by Auslander who contends that: “Throughout history, performance has employed available technologies and has been mediated in one sense or another. It is only since the advent of mechanical and electrical technologies of recording and reproduction, however, that performance has been mediatized” (2003, 52).

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associated strategies of mise-en-scene, such as the ones developed by Lepage’s practice. The two categories are, however, not only culturally construed, as implied above, but also historically and contingently developed. According to Auslander, “the relationship between the live and the mediatized is a volatile question subject to significant change over time” (2002, 162). In the present cultural economy – the scholar suggests – mediatized forms “enjoy far more cultural presence and prestige […] than live forms […] In many instances live performances are produced either as replication of mediatized representations or as raw materials for subsequent mediatization” (2002, 162). Therefore, in order to situate theoretically the “live” and the “mediatized” within the current cultural context, Auslander proposes an analysis of the ways in which the status of “liveness” changed in theatre and then transferred to other media in the past decades, based on the unprecedented development of mediatized cultural forms. The scholar argues that live theatre has become more and more like television and other mediatized cultural forms to the extent to which live performances now tend to emulate a range of mediatized representations. This process did not occur in a vacuum, but was related to audience perception and expectations “which shape and are shaped by technological change and the uses of technology influenced by capital investment” (Auslander 2002, 158-159). Building on Benjamin’s analysis of audience response to film as a medium, Auslander suggests that: The incursion of mediatization into live events can be understood as a means of making those events respond to the needs for televisual intimacy, thus fulfilling desires and expectations shaped by mediatized representations (2002, 158-59).

The scholar concludes: “the general response of live performance to the oppression and economic superiority of mediatized forms has been to become as much like them as possible” (2002, 7). Evidence of this pervasive phenomenon has become more than abundant across the entire spectrum of contemporary performance. However – as Auslander rightfully observes – there is a subsequent “progressive diminution of previous distinctions between the live and the mediatized” (2002, 7), which raises the legitimate question of whether there are really “clear-cut ontological distinctions between live forms and mediatized ones” (7). In other words, since perception is substantially influenced by a cultural environment that changes over time, the way in which notions of the “live” and “mediatized” become visible for the contemporary spectator is ultimately a matter of reception, with all the subjectivity implied.

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Furthermore, the scholar rightfully observes that there has been a “critical discourse surrounding the concept of mixed-media performance and the possibilities of incorporating film into theatre since at least the early 1920s”28 (2002, 36). Therefore, at the present time, we experience such works in terms of a “fusion,” not a “con-fusion” of realms or, in the scholar’s words: “Rather than a conversation among distinct media, the production presents the assimilation of varied materials to the cultural dominant” (38). Consequently, the historical and contingent relationship established between notions of “liveness” and “mediatization” should be understood as a relation of dependence and imbrication rather than of opposition, a postulate that further connects to the notion of remediation. Auslander details: [T]he mediated is engrained in the live and is apparent in the structure of the English word immediate. The root form is the word mediate, of which immediate is, of course, the negation. Mediation is thus embedded within the im-mediate; the relation of mediation and im-mediate is one of mutual dependence, not precession. Far from being encroached upon, contaminated, or threatened by mediation, live performance is always already inscribed with traces of the possibility of technical mediation (i.e., mediatization) that defines it is live (2002, 53, emphasis in original).

In terms of the ways in which the human sensorium is involved in the process of spectating in contemporary performance, Auslander disagrees with the (still widely spread) assumption that the continued appeal of live performance is based on the fact that it appears to offer a fuller sensory experience than the mediatized one. He admits that mediatized representations address primarily the distance senses – the visual and the auditory – while live performances, due to the presence of the performers and the spectators in the same space, engage also the olfactory, tactile, somatic, and even the kinaesthetic. However, the other senses are in fact engaged in mediatized performances as well, but in different ways. The difference observed is – in fact, as the scholar suggests – a difference in

28

Auslander contends that: “Eisenstein was primarily interested in imbuing live performance with cinematic qualities. Rather than seeking to hybridize the two media, both Eisenstein and Piscator used filmed representations to comment on the live action, thus implicitly privileging film discourse over theatrical discourse” (2000, e2). Ten years later, Meyerhold was calling for a “cinefication” of theatre, with the notable difference that “Meyerhold took note of the economic and cultural realities and suggested that the theatre itself must become like film in order to recapture the audience” (2000, e3).

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kind and not necessarily in the magnitude of sensory experience (2002, 55). Further on, in discussing the relationship between intermediality and spectatorship in the current (cultural) context, Auslander argues: [I]t is not enough, for instance, to suppose that because theatre and film can be seen as representing different parts of the psyche, they can work together as equal partners when that partnership takes place in a cultural context in which film is clearly privileged over theatre, a privileging that is bound to affect audience perception of the hybrid. It is simply not the case that all media have the same cultural presence and carry the same cultural authority, and any consideration of intermediality must take these issues into account. Intermediality must be considered in terms of ‘cultural economy,’ a phrase I use to describe a realm of enquiry that includes both the real economic relations among cultural forms, and the relative degrees of cultural prestige and power enjoyed by different forms (2000, e3).

The scholar considers the present cultural economy as dominated by “mediatization” and, more specifically, the by the “televisual” and the “digital” to the extent to which theatre and other live forms29 depend on them not only economically, but, in terms of the conditions under which they are perceived (2000, e6). He claims that the kind of “proximity and intimacy” one can experience with television (and, I suggest, by extension with film, as part of the televisual circuit of distribution) has become a model for “close-up perception,” and what is perceived as missing in live performance “can be reintroduced only by the means of their videation” (2000, e6). In other words, the inter- and/or multi-medial strategies of mise-en-scene developed by current theatre practices can be seen as the logical result of the present cultural economy, and should be interpreted in relation to it. That is not to say that this is an entirely 29

Auslander goes even further and proposes that: “live art forms like theatre have become mediatized in Jameson’s sense: they have been forced by economic and cultural realities to acknowledge their status as media within a mediatic system that includes the mass-media and information technologies. An important consequence of thinking about live and mediatized performances as belonging to the same mediatic system is the inscription of live performance within the historical logic of media identified by Marshall McLuhan (Understanding Media: 158): ‘A new medium is never an addition to an old one, nor does it leave the old one in peace. It never ceases to oppress the older media until if finds new shapes and positions for them.’ This view asserts that older media operate within a context created by newer media that generally have the upper hand in determining the cultural landscape” (Auslander 2000, e8).

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economically driven development. It is also determined by changes in perception pertaining to the ways in which spectators learn to observe (in Crary’s understanding) the “live” and the “mediatized,” mostly by way of imagery: It is, then, distinctly possible that in a culture dominated by the televisual, live and recorded images are not perceived as intrinsically different – both are perceived as potentially televisual. Their combination and juxtaposition in multimedia performances would not produce the confusion of realms Blau describes,30 but would be perceived, rather, as the assimilation of varied materials to the culturally dominant medium […] we now experience such works in terms of fusion, not con-fusion, a fusion that we see as taking place within an essentially televisual digital environment that incorporated both live and recorded elements indiscriminately as raw material (Auslander 2000, e10).

In conclusion, the changes in perception induced by the pervasive “mediatization” processes that characterize the contemporary cultural environment should be understood in terms of an imbricate interrelationship between historical, cultural and sensorial factors. The remediation processes at play in Western culture, and their implicit hybridity, highlight perception and attention as hybrid. In matters of spectatorship, it is important to acknowledge, on the one hand, how notions of the “live” and “mediatized” are construed through the directorial strategies in performance and, on the other hand, to understand how they are being (actually) observed. Moreover, the “live” and “mediatized” become relevant especially with regards to the impact that their alternation within the frame of live performance has upon the spectators, as this provokes a specific alternation of distance in reception which holds the potential to alter and/or enhance spectatorial perception in a significant way.

3.3. Spectatorship in Robert Lepage’s Theatre Work Two distinct aspects of spectatorship need to be considered in the case of Robert Lepage’s original theatre work: (1) audience members are exposed, throughout the performance, to a series of intermedial and multi-medial configurations that (arguably) provoke an enhanced sensorial, cognitive and emotional participation; and (2) the audience, as a whole, is treated like a medium whose feedback is reinvested further, as 30

Auslander makes direct reference to Blau’s recurrent assertions in Audiences.

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a “Resource,”31 in the work-in-progress process. The combination of the two aspects presents the spectator with an empowered position in the economy of the performance, which leads – I suggest – to a notable change in the status of spectatorship. Regarding the first aspect, spectatorship in the case of Lepage’s original performances is modelled by the particular distance established through the alternation of sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy engendered by the intermedial and multi-medial constellations performed on stage. The theatrical images configured by these constellations are perceived by the spectator as either “live,” or “mediatized” or, at times, as a hybrid between the two.32 The alternation of the “live,” “mediatized” and of the “in-between” brings with it a quasi-continuous alternation of observance codes throughout the representation, which stimulates perception in a particular way and, ultimately impacts upon spectatorship. Attempting to nuance the mechanism through which distance is created in theatre, Daphna Ben Chaim maintains: If the key to distance is fictionality, it rests on the prior condition of a willingness to engage ourselves with an unreality. […] The basis for distance is that we choose to act mentally towards an acknowledged unreality in some crucial ways as if it were reality. That we are free not to do so but that we choose to do so implicates us in its creation; it is a voluntary commitment to participate in the creation of an alternate universe. Because our response is voluntary, our relationship with the object is a highly personal one: our freedom to imagine (or not to imagine) invests our experience with the personal intensity characteristic of an investment of will. […] The phenomenon of distance involves a double-edged psychic tension: because we know […] that the work is fictional, we do not literally believe the events onstage; but our willingness to imagine with the theatrical representation commits us to a metaphorical mode of thinking, a ‘seeing as’; the tacit awareness of this fiction and the conditional (and withdrawable) belief in the image provide the psychological protection that permits an intense projection of emotions, reinforcing our simulated belief in the image. Because our belief is conditional, based on our willingness to imagine and our recognition of the image as unreality, it is ‘owned’ by our minds (1984, 74-75).

31

See Chapter 1, subchapter 1.2, for a discussion of the notion. It needs to be highlighted that since, according to Auslander, both concepts (the “live” and “mediatized”) are contingent and historically determined, hybridity is to be treated in a similar manner. 32

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In other words, achieving an optimal distance in the experience of theatre relies on our particular ability and willingness to engage with the fictionality proposed on stage, and ultimately constitutes itself as a response to the particular elements through which the metaphorical mode of thinking is stimulated. Thus, intermedial strategies of mise-en–scene and the corresponding multi-layered narratives – in which different genres and performative styles are hybridized, intertwined and/or juxtaposed – rely on diverse medial configurations, and more or less noticeable elements pertaining to their respective technological apparatuses, that aim to stimulate the spectators sensorially, emotionally and intellectually, enhancing their observance patterns, through the very mixture/ intertwining of the “live,” “mediatized” and the “in-between.” According to Lepage, in contemporary practice, there are two main ways of “telling stories:” There is the live version, […] this happens in a spontaneous, interactive, three-dimensional ways, and it’s called theater. Or, it’s called the stage, and I’m including dance in that, and opera. Then you have the other way of telling the story nowadays, where it’s canned, it’s on film, or it’s on tape. It will not move. It will not interact with you. If I’m a character on the screen right now, I’m just light. I’m not for real. I’m not made of flesh NO MATTER WHAT, whether you laugh, if the room is empty, of it’s full, if you applaud, if you boo, you will never interrupt what goes on the screen. And these two ways of telling stories, whether we want that or not, whether we accept if or not, they converge slowly […] so you have these two forms and they’re going to meet (Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 310, emphasis in original).

As the director rightfully observes, developments in technology help creating an “interface between the two ways of telling stories” (Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 315) and the result – especially in the case of his practice – is that the intermedial strategies developed become more and more sophisticated, as well as seamless in relation to current expectations of spectatorship..33 Thus, both the need for immediacy and proximity, engendered by the current dominance of the televisual 33

In this respect, Lepage considers that: “The audience wants film narrative structure on stage because the audience now has a new way of listening to stories, a new ways of digesting stories, a new way of understanding stories, of following stories with a film made vocabulary that is much richer than what audiences had twenty and thirty years ago. Today audiences know what a jump cut is, and a flashback, and a flash forward, through rock videos and commercials, all these are things that people didn’t necessarily see twenty or thirty years ago” (BuchananBienen 2000, 310).

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highlighted by Auslander, as well as the need for hypermediacy, dominant with the advent of the digital, as Bolter and Grusin argue, are being addressed through an attempt to intertwine the two ways of “telling stories.” One can safely state that the “provocation,” in terms of spectatorship, comes not as much from the fact that there is medial interplay in performance, but from the elements of surprise provided by the particular medial configurations proposed and their ability to stimulate metaphorical thinking as well as sensorial engagement. In terms of spectatorship – according to Lepage – the aspects outlined above translate into a predisposition towards non-linear, multi-layered narratives, where aspects of the “live,” the “mediatized” and the “inbetween” are formally combined in a number of unexpected ways. In conversation with McAlpine the director states: [P]eople are extremely modern, even if they’re not educated or well cultured. They have a very modern way of connecting things; they watch TV, they know what a flash-back is, they understand the codes of a flashforward, they know what a jump cut is. They know all these things that we didn’t know when we started to go and see theatre. And if you don’t use that, you don’t trigger that, of course they’re bored. They have gymnastic minds now and a gymnastic understanding of things (McAlpine 1996, 148).

In other words, spectatorial expectations in contemporary theatre should be considered in relation to the present cultural economy, imbued not only with the “cinematic,” but with the “televisual” and, more recently, the “digital.” Medial configurations are to be situated in direct connection with the diverse medial literacies of audiences and their horizons of expectations. As John Tomlinson maintains in “Media Imperialism in Planet TV:” Media occupies a central point in Western culture, it is a primary or main resource for the meaningful organization and ‘patterning’ of people’s experience. Regarding the cultural centrality of media one has to remark that media messages are themselves mediated by other modes of cultural experience – “the active audience”, therefore the relationship between media and culture is one of a subtle interplay of mediations, there is a loop circuit between culture as lived experience and culture as representation (through media) that functions due to mediations on both ways (2003, 129).

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Therefore, any performance seeking to enhance spectatorial involvement should explore the above-mentioned elements and make use of “people’s evolved intelligence”34 (McAlpine 1996, 148). Regarding the second aspect of spectatorship – the engagement of the audience in the performance making process – it needs to be reinforced that this particular role occurs occasionally, outside the situation of live performance and in accordance with an identified timetable of needs for the work-in-progress process established by the director himself. Lepage usually proposes discussions with the audience: during the later period of the initial rehearsal process, after the official opening night, and later on, at several stages of the creative process, depending on the needs of the show and the longevity of the production. The feedback gathered from discussions between spectators (willing to contribute) and members of the creative team is further reinvested – as a “Resource” – in the improvisational exploratory process. The feedback loop-circuit is carefully designed to ensure the performance’s transformative state in relation to the expectations of audiences. The practical and obvious outcome, as recorded by various documentation, is that all original performances by Lepage remediate significantly in time, while touring in different parts of the world and engaging with diverse audiences. Thus, the involvement of the audience in the creative process can be considered as part of a self-regulatory strategy for performance. However, in order to obtain a productive feedback, the creative team has to try and address, in first instance, the expectations and medial competences of contemporary audiences. In other words, in order to be effective, the “dialogue” established between performance and spectators needs to take place through channels that enhance the perception process, which leads back to the first aspect of spectatorship discussed above, and closes the feedback-loop circuit. It is worth noting that Lepage disagrees with the widely spread assumption, especially in mainstream commercial theatre, that, in order to reach audiences, the medium should feed the popular taste and focus mainly on its entertaining aspects. The director considers that such a strategy leads to a rather passive, intellectually and emotionally 34 The phrase proposed by Lepage hints to the increased medial literacy of the spectators, seen as a characteristic of contemporary Western culture and leading to a particular way of processing information (as in Bolter and Grusin’s notion of “remediated self”). At the same time, for the director, the audience is: “the most important intellectual entity with whom it is interesting to dialogue about theatre. The audience is as much a part of the theater phenomenon as the theater artist” (Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 304-05).

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submissive spectatorial attitude35 and postulates that what theatre audiences look for is diversity, challenge and stimulation: There’s this sense that what an audience wants is to relax and to free their minds after a day of hard work. No, they don’t want that at all: that’s what they think they want, but subconsciously and consciously they want to clear up their minds, not empty them. They want to clear the mind up and put it in order. They want to see things from a logical point of view, or an illogical point of view, or have a different point of view than they have had all day. They want to be massaged,36 they don’t want to sleep. They want to be energised (McAlpine 1996, 147).

What Lepage proposes, therefore, through his practice, is a particular type of involvement. Spectators are intentionally stimulated via the multilayered structure of the narrative and the inter- and/or multi-medial strategies of performance, and the empowering potential is furthered, given a mode of expression, via the feedback loop-circuit. The narratives, developed initially by the creative team and then remediated through the work-in-progress process, offer a hybrid mixture of the personal and the collective, and draw mainly on a combination of Québécois and Western (wide-known) cultural references, mainly conventions and clichés subverted in performance. At a formal level, aesthetic conventions and clichés pertaining to various popular genres and audio-visual media (i.e. melodrama, soap-opera, thriller, video-clip, etc.) are explored. Their recurrent use provides the spectator, at diegetic and formal levels, with a sense of familiarity (and immediacy) that stimulates an initial opening in terms of observance. Further on, the intermedial configurations performed challenge and, at times, even overthrow completely the initial impression of cultural and medial proximity, suggesting novel perspectives upon both the content and the formal elements at play in 35

Referring to mainstream/commercial productions Lepage states: “The concept people have of theatre these days is The Phantom of The Opera and Les Misérables. It’s still theatre, but it’s not as theatrical as it can be; everything is so programmed and you can be sure that things will happen like your friend told you they would happen. But I think there’s something that people want to see and that’s the Olympic spirit. People want to see live risks, not risky stuff, but people risking something for real. They need to see people dropping the ball once in a while to be reassured that it’s a game, that there’s human beings’ playing it, and that what you’re going to see is so authentic because it’s just happening that evening” (McAlpine 1996, 146, author’s emphasis). 36 Lepage’s assertion regarding the “massage” connects with one of the most widely spread (and discussed) of McLuhan dictums: “The medium is the massage” (1967).

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performance. Such moments require a specific degree of combined medial literacy and require the ongoing attention of the spectator, whilst relying on effects of surprise, displacement or decalage, brought in by the novelty of the medial interplay. A sense of playful complicity is, thus, engendered between spectators and performance, and it becomes part of the experience of performance. This complicity tends to stimulate spectators at sensorial, emotional and intellectual levels, leading most often than not to an increased involvement in matters of perception and, further on, (conceivably) in matters of spectatorial feedback. An ensuing aspect of spectatorship relates to the potentially diverse responses, pertaining to cultural differences in distinct geographical areas. Arguably, this could lead to critical differences in terms of reception and feedback. Since audiences involved into the feedback-loop circuit belong to different cultural backgrounds,37 the problem arises if – based on potentially different expectations and spectatorial habitudes – significant alterations in observance become inscribed into the work-in-progress process, or if they put the process at risk in any way. On this matter, a relevant excerpt of the dialogue between McAlpine and Lepage summarizes the issue from a practice-based perspective: MCALPINE: Do you feel a shift in the perception and participation of your audiences as you travel around the world – say English Canadian versus Québec audiences? Or cultures which have a longer theatrical tradition? How does the participation change? LEPAGE: There’s many things that are different in different countries. It’s difficult to detail all of them, but one thing that stands out – and anybody that tours around the world could tell you this – is that there’s a part of the world that is made of cultures that are the speaking word and another part which is visual. There’s an English-speaking culture that calls the public an audience. They go there to hear stories, and you go there to tell stories. However visual you are, it goes through the ears, people are there to listen to the words, to the music. And you have a part 37 According to Lepage - at the conference given at Université Laval on March 9, 2005 (see Introduction, footnote 1) the local audience (from Québec-City) is the first to be chronologically involved into the feedback loop circuit. Based on their feedback, changes are operated both within the narrative structure and/or the formal aspects of performance, whilst the show is prepared for international touring. Further dialogues, with international audiences from different parts of the world, are established in accordance with the touring program and in relation to the perceived “needs” of the performance. In this respect, decisions for such dialogues are, also, influenced by the ways in which critics in different parts of the world respond to the performances in question.

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Thus, according to the experience acquired by the Québécois director in decades of international touring, the most significant difference pertains to the discreetly shifting focus from visuality to aurality, in terms of reception. No other major differences that could put the work at risk are identified. In matters of spectatorial observance, the differences noted by Lepage bring slightly different foci of attention and varied levels of literacy that enhance either the visual or the aural aspects of perception. Moreover, due to the unifying influence of the digital in the present cultural economy and the globalizing tendencies at play in the last decades, Western observance habitudes tend to become rather homogenized in general terms, characterized as they are by hybridity in perception and increasingly sophisticated visual literacy, irrespective of the geographical or cultural positioning. Thus, substantial common ground appears to be found, for the most diverse audiences, in the visual aspects of performance, to which aural and other sensorial aspects contribute as an addition. In fact, as studies and reviews acknowledge, the focus proposed by the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene and the resulting hybridizations of cultural, aesthetic and/or medial conventions and clichés (at diegetic and formal levels) tend to produce rather similar effects upon audiences across the Western landscape. With regards to the aural aspects of the performance and the spoken word on stage, linguistic differences are overcome through: (1) the integration of subtitles within the inter- and/or multi-medial configurations on stage – a strategy that enhances further the visual aspects of the performance and switches partially the focus of attention from the actual content of the aural information to its more formal, visual and/or musical aspects; (2) the reliance on expressing content through visually effective imagery, which foregrounds the material presence of various media in performance, including the actor’s body and the gestural language; and (3) the use of a multi-lingual approach, where English plays a significant part alongside French and/or other languages, depending on the specific themes developed by the performance. As discussed above, the involvement of the audience in the feedback loop-circuit established as part of the creative process depends on the needs of each performance, recognized by Lepage in consultation with the creative team. For example – according to Paul Lefebvre in “Robert Lepage: New Filters for Creation” (1987) – the first version of the Trilogy of Dragons had three main stages of development. The first version,

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presented in Québec-City in the autumn of 1985, had three parts, each lasting 30 minutes, in total 1,5 hours. The second version, presented in Toronto, Montreal and Québec-City in the spring of 1986, was extended to 3 hours. The third version, presented at the Festival de Théâtre des Amériques, in January 1987, lasted for 6 hours. The three parts that constituted the final stage of the performance could be interpreted, according to various accounts, as three autonomous shows linked by the common theme. Throughout the two-year period of work-in-progress, several dialogues with the audience took place, in different geographical locations. This impacted on the diegetic and formal changes made. Lefebvre maintains that the relationship between the production and the audience developed through these dialogues, and “marked the work as the result of a practice of creative work, rather than a sudden flash of inspiration” (1987, 31). Similar examples constitute a constant of Lepage’s practice. Outlining them would exceed the purpose of this study. However, further references to such processes will be made in Chapter 4, in relation to the development of the solo performances that constitute the corpus of this study. Before concluding this chapter, it needs to be reiterated that – for Lepage – the audience is a main constitutive part of the creative process, and a “partner” in the further development of the medium of theatre. In support of this view, the director suggests that “if there’s no audience, if there’s no reconciliation with the audience, if there’s no survival of the relationship between the stage artist and the audience, then there is no theater” (Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 319). The theatre-maker goes as far as to postulate that the survival of theatre as a contemporary form of art depends on an accurate understanding of the critical role ascribed for the audience within the performance process: [I]f we want theater to survive in the twenty-first century, we have to accept that a piece of theater is something that goes on as much in the room, as it does on stage. The audience is part of the writing process. The audience is part of the theatricality of the piece. The audience has to be reinvited back into theater, and to the theater craft (Buchanan-Bienen 2000, 311).

In conclusion, a model of spectatorship in Robert Lepage’s theatre ascribes a co-constitutive role for the spectator within the creative process. An empowering aspect occurs, through the occasional involvement of the audience in the feedback loop-circuit that serves the remediation of performance (or the “writing” process, in the director’s terms). At the same time, the intermedial configurations performed on

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stage stimulate the sensorial, emotional and intellectual participation, capturing the spectator’s attention, through a vacillation of distance provoked by the mixture of the “live,” “mediatized,” and/or the “inbetween” within the framing medium of theatre. This chapter attempted to discuss and outline the key parameters for a model of contemporary spectatorship applicable to Lepage’s practice, from a combined perspective of theatre and media studies, which was subsequently discussed in relation to the director’s practice. An in-depth description and analysis of the mechanisms that connect the intermedial constellations performed on stage with the above proposed model of spectatorship will be developed in Chapter 4, using the solo performances as case studies.

CHAPTER FOUR THE SOLO SHOWS

The present chapter proposes an in-depth discussion of the strategies of mise-en-scene developed by Robert Lepage, as reflected through the main inter- and/or multi-medial configurations performed in the solo shows: Vinci (1986), Needles and Opium (1991), Elsinore (1995), Far Side of the Moon (2000) and The Andersen Project (2005). A combination of descriptive analysis and discussion of aspects pertaining to the creative and reception processes aims to highlight patterns of spectatorial observance in relation to the particularities of each performance, and the changes that occured throughout their “lives,” aiming to identify a possible model of spectatorship applicable to the director’s work, as proposed in Chapter 3. As mentioned before, all original performances by Lepage are developed as works-in-progress. Years mentioned above are the years when the solos premiered, yet their life was and, in some cases, continues to be longer than perhaps predicted, (arguably) due, on the one hand, to the remediation processes that occur at different stages of production and, on the other hand, to connected marketing strategies responding to the international circuit of theatre production in which they evolve. The analysis will attempt to engage with the significant changes in the development of the narrative and the formal elements of the solos, with a special focus on the changes made to the intermedial configurations in relation to spectatorship. The discussion relies on existing documentation for each performance: theoretical studies, reviews and interviews. The analysis of the intermedial effects and of the overall strategie(s) of miseen-scene is based on the corroboration of information provided by official video recordings and written manuscripts, courtesy of Ex Machina archive, as well as, wherever this was possible, my own live experience of the solos as a spectator, seconded by reviews and scholarly studies. The discussion will attempt to follow the development of each solo from the moment of

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inception to the moment of completion or full development,1 as officially acknowledged and in relation to this particular focus of study. The analysis of each solo will comprise: (1) an initial contextualization, from a combined thematic, formal and production point of view; (2) a discussion of the initial stimuli/“Resource”(s); (3) an outline of the narrative, including the significant changes operated in time; (4) a summary the impact upon audiences, as highlighted by critiques, interviews and scholarly studies, and (5) an in-depth analysis of interand/or multi-medial configurations impacting upon spectatorship, based on existing accounts, and in relation to the overall mise-en-scene strategy. The present chapter is divided into six sections. The first five sections address, separately, each solo as case studies, in chronological order, whilst the last section will attempt a preliminary, comparative conclusion regarding the key developments in Lepage’s intermedial practice. Before proceeding to the analysis, however, I would like to highlight James Bunzli’s attempt to identify a series of creative patterns in Lepage’s solos, based on their combined thematic and formal aspects. In “Autobiography in the House of Mirrors: The Paradox of Identity Reflected in the Solo Shows of Robert Lepage” (2000) Bunzli associates the solos in particular to an autobiographical tendency that discreetly pervades Lepage’s entire artistic practice. The scholar maintains that solos fill in for Lepage “an obvious need both to perform and to express himself in a very personal way” (Bunzli 2000, 22). As Bunzli rightfully observes, solos are, in fact, a “periodic undertaking […] as part of the ongoing exploration of the limits of the self, the medium, and the world that Lepage’s work as a whole constitutes” (2000, 22). The scholar bases his hypothesis on Vinci, Needles and Opium and Elsinore, the three solos developed and extensively toured by the year of the study’s publication. I suggest, however, that the scholar’s assertion can be safely extended to include Far Side of the Moon and The Andersen Project. As Bunzli argues, Lepage engages in his solo shows with a “complex, fragmented autobiographical quest” (2000, 21), in each addressing “a particular problem or neurosis with which the central character must contend, and with which Lepage himself is dealing at the time of the show’s conception” (2000, 21). Thus:

1

The first three solos are not performed anymore, therefore they can be considered as having completed their life cicle, whilst the last two solos are still touring occasionally. Nevertheless, their development as works-in progress is considered completed, according to directorial accounts. Final scripts have been published either internally or for wider dissemination. For more details see Bibliography.

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Vinci was created in response to Lepage’s own struggle relating to artistic integrity (Robert Lepage, interview with the author, Chicago, Ill., 3 June 1994). In addition, Lepage did in fact have a friend, a painter, who attempted suicide in his effort to avoid sacrificing his integrity to commercialism (Manguel, 38). Similarly, Lepage created Needles and Opium while ‘going through a crisis’ caused by the departure of a lover (Lepage, interview, 1994). The impulse to create a one-man Hamlet began with a life-long fascination with the character and the play, but was crystallized by his father’s death and the realization that ‘everyone feels aggression toward their mother after their father dies’ (Robert Lepage, interview with the author, Québec City, Que., 15 February 1995) (Bunzli 2000, 21-22).

Expanding on Bunzli’s argument and in line with other accounts (i.e. Lepage’s own statements as well as reviews and critical studies) one can assert that Far Side of the Moon is the result of Lepage’s need to cope with the loss of his mother, accomplished through the artistic exploration of the theme of the moon and of twin brotherhood (Monteverdi 2003, 2) and that The Andersen Project, albeit originally commissioned for Hans Christian Andersen’s bi-centenary, deals with the director’s ongoing quest for artistic integrity against pressures coming from the international theatre network, notwithstanding the limitative demands of his status as a “cultural commodity.” Moreover, in all solos, autobiographical elements are reflected through “a parade of characters, some given full-body portrayals, some represented only vocally or in silhouette, some merely evoked by implication” (Bunzli 2000, 22). They all construct a fragmented, distorted, at times, self-image “reminiscent of a ‘fun-house’ hall of mirrors” (2000, 22) and reflect a dramaturgical strategy always situated, by ways of mise-en-scene, in direct connection to the formal aspects of performance, which becomes “visible” through the intermedial configurations proposed on stage: Just as fun-house mirrors manipulate an image, Lepage’s characters manipulate – literally and figuratively – the performer’s voice, body, identity, and theatrical space. Fragmentation of identity allows Lepage to balance persona and character in a complex negotiation of self and other, in which neither takes precedence (Bunzli 2000, 22).

Therefore, from a formal point of view, in all solos, the manipulation of theatrical space encompasses the manipulation – whether by the performer, at sight, or through the intervention of technical staff, backstage – of apparatuses and elements pertaining to various media into a series of intermedial and/or multi-medial configurations that engender alternatively

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and/or simultaneously sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy and lead to the experience of quasi-continuous alternation of distance, ultimately altering spectatorship. Thematically, the attempt to undertake – through the solos – a “periodic validation” of artistic and personal identity leads Lepage to a creative intertwining of autobiographical elements and references to culturally significant historical figures that, in the director’s opinion, bear similarities to his own personal and/or artistic preoccupations. Such references are situated at the core of his creative quests, at given points in time. Although the characterization of such historical figures “often encompasses both parody (and the humor that results), a serious attempt at a cultural bridge” (Bunzli 2000, 27) between the artist and various audiences from different parts of the world is in this way undertaken. Iconic cultural figures (i.e. Leonardo da Vinci, Miles Davis, Jean Cocteau, Buzz Aldrin, Hans Christian Andersen, etc.), art masterpieces (i.e. Mona Lisa), famous theatre characters (i.e. Hamlet), or cultural manifestations of the alterity (i.e. Butoh dance, tai-chi, etc.) function as bridging factors between the fictional realities proposed by the solos and audiences from distinct geographical areas. According to the Québécois director, the use of such references creates a sense of cultural proximity, of familiarity, whilst allowing him to avoid artistic and aesthetic compromise (PerelliContos 1994, 63). The thematic remediation of iconic cultural elements (figures, artifacts and genres) becomes, in fact, an attempt to achieve an effect in spectatorship that encompasses both the sensations of immediacy – through impressions of familiarity and proximity, favoring identification – and hypermediacy – through the awareness of the medial conventions and clichés through which these are performed, favoring detachment and metaphorical thinking. The remediation effect proposed leads to the development of a non-linear, potentially stimulating, medially hybrid experience of the solos’ narratives, which becomes a constant of his shows. Regarding the evolution of the “texts” used, Bunzli identifies in the first three solos “an increased incorporation of the texts of others” (2000, 22). Thus, whilst Vinci evokes a number of visual artists, the text remains original in its entirety. In Needles and Opium, Cocteau’s famous Letter to Americans2 is quoted at length. Elsinore, however, is based entirely upon Shakespeare’s text, yet, the solo “is no less Lepage’s than Vinci – i.e. W.B. 2

Letter to Americans, written by Cocteau in 1949, while flying to and from New York, discusses the American culture from the perspective of a French intellectual coming for the first time in contact with it. The text acknowledges both cultural differences and the visible idiosyncrasies of the time between the two cultures.

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Northern grants Elsinore “quasi-Shakespearean’ status” – (Bunzli 2000, 22). Far Side of the Moon proposes a discrete reconfiguration of the dramaturgical approach, an apparent return to the initial strategies used in Vinci, yet in line with the directorial and intermedial experience acquired meanwhile and, therefore, more seamlessly able to incorporate texts. Therefore, the solo includes textual references from scientific theories of cosmos (i.e. Galileo Galilei, Konstantin Tsiolkovski and Alexei Leonov), as a relevant poetry excerpt (from Québécois writer Emile Nelligan), and, instead of text, documentative audio footage (i.e. the Soviet launch in 1975) as the most prominent incorporation of external/non-artistic material. The Andersen Project, on the other hand, incorporates substantial excerpts from Hans Christian Andersen’s less known stories (The Dryad and The Shadow) using a strategy similar to the one in Needles and Opium by way of integrating text, as well as various references pertaining to digital media. One can state that an identifiable pattern – if there is one, indeed – relates to an increasingly sophisticated level of hybridity in terms of incorporating texts (external written material), manifested seamlessly and situated in direct relation the thematic focus of each solo, ultimately reflecting upon the intermedial directorial strategies of each performance.

Vinci In Vinci (1986) the path towards discovering artistic identity, understood as a hybrid construct and openly performed as such, becomes – as accounts suggest – a theatrical journey taken by both Lepage’s scenic alter ego and the audience. “So entrancing, so logical is each of Vinci’s dramatic steps that we, the audience, become Lepage,” states in admiration Manguel in “Theatre of the Miraculous”(1998, 28). The solo examines Leonardo da Vinci’s work and personality and the concept of art in relation to moral integrity from the perspective of the main character, Philippe. A young Québécois photographer in search for artistic definition against his own cultural landscape, towards which he feels an outsider, yet unwilling to take risks and seeking profits in terms of his own visibility, Philippe is construed as Lepage’s scenic persona. The narrative follows the protagonist on his self-exploratory journey, prompted by an artistic integrity crisis, triggered, in turn, by the recent suicide of his close friend March, a photographer (also) unable to accept artistic compromise. Philippe travels through the “old continent” in what turns to be a veritable cultural odyssey across Western Europe, from London to Paris, to Cannes and Florence, to finally arrive to the village of Vinci in search for artistic and spiritual enlightenment. Formally, the solo uses a multi-layered and

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“impressionistic” narrative style and an intermedial mise-en-scene strategy that offers a multi-sensorial perspective upon Philippe’s experience. It constitutes, at the same time, Lepage quest for his own artistic credo, as the majority of studies and reviews acknowledged and the director himself admitted in interviews. Vinci opened3 at the intimate Théâtre de Quat'Sous4 in Montréal in March 1986. The show toured extensively throughout Canada and in several parts of Western Europe until 1988.5 The performance was awarded the “Prix de la Meilleure Production,” the “Prix de la Meilleur Réalisation Sonore” by Association Québécoise des Critiques de Théâtre in 1986, as well as the prestigious “Coup the Pouce” at the Avignon Festival in 1987. Throughout its touring period the show gained substantial visibility and recognition, especially in Canada and France, which opened the doors for Lepage’s international acknowledgement as an up-andcoming “avant-garde” theatre-maker. The initial “Resource” of Vinci was a cartoon by the Italian artist: St. Anne, the Virgin and Child. Apparently da Vinci’s unfinished work, seen by Lepage at the National Gallery in London many years before, provoked a strong and lasting emotion upon the Québécois theatre-maker (Corrivault 1986) and constituted the starting point for an exploratory process that aimed to interrogate the condition of art from a contemporary perspective, which was to be realized on stage through a mixture of diverse medial means. Leonardo’s drawing was integrated as a key element in one of the intermedial moments of the solo and used as a tool to enhance the audience engagement with the explorations on stage. 6 According to his own statement, the director’s special interest in Leonardo da Vinci was due to the multidisciplinary, yet controversial/ paradoxical nature of the Italian artist’s work and personality – “son génie, c’est le paradoxe – la contradiction et la complémentarité“ (Fréchette .

3

Vinci was created, directed and performed by Robert Lepage in both versions, English and French. For further details of the production see Appendix A. 4 The Théâtre de Quat'Sous’ venue was rather small (90 seats), yet quite important in the local cultural landscape. According to Paul Buissonneau, president of the venue, it had already hosted one million spectators by the time Vinci premiered. The institution was financially supported, throughout most of its life, by the Ministry of Cultural Affairs in Québec, Conseil des Arts du Canada & Conseil des Arts de la Communauté Urbaine de Montréal. In other words, Vinci premiered on a prestigious Québécois scene. 5 For a complete list of tours see Appendix A. 6 See further details below, in the analysis of Scene 3 of the solo.

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1987, 115).7 In an interview for the Québecois magazine Sortie Lepage details his choice: Pourquoi Vinci, pourquoi Leonard? S’il y a des mythes c’en est un certainement. Son statut olympien dans l’histoire de l’art en fait un modèle, un point de référence pour tout artiste; pour moi il constitue à la fois un point de fuite et un objectif. Jusqu'à l’avènement du maître florentin la perspective picturale ne s’élaborait qu’à partir point de fuite vers lequel convergeaient toutes les horizontales. Leonard y ajoutera la troisième dimension, la couleur, la lumière qui autant que éloignement altère la perception des éléments de la composition (Beaulac 1986).8

Regarding the initial context of the solo and the preliminary research findings that contributed to the making of Vinci, the director recollects: Vraiment par hasard, j’ai dit que j’allais faire Vinci, à partir d’une toile que j’avais vue. […] Je n’a ai pas trop repensé en cours d’année, puis je suis allé en Italie, réaliser quelques recherches sur Vinci; là, je me suis rendu compte que toute son œuvre était imprégnée de ce paradoxe, y compris La Joconde. Même ce tableau surexploité […] est une ultime tentative de rendre complémentaires la technique et l’humanité, qui se contredisent sur une même toile et nous touchent. De là m’est venue la thématique du paradoxe de l’artiste qui tente de dire les choses profondes dans une sorte de démonstration technique. De là m’est venue la permission d’utiliser la technologie dans Vinci. […] [L]’esprit dans lequel il travaillait, un œuvre ingénieuse. […] Il fallait que je trouve un façon pour que les spectateurs entendent le déclic du projecteur ou voient les ‘pitons’, tout en faisant du spectacle quelque chose à la fois ingénieux et aérien, éthéré (Lepage in Fréchette 1987, 115)9. 7

In English: “his genius is paradoxical – it is contradiction and complementarity at the same time” (author’s trans.) 8 In English: “Why da Vinci, why Leonardo? If there are myths, this is certainly one. His Olympian status in the history of art turns him into a model, a reference point for any artist; for me he is both a vanishing point and a goal. [new paragraph] Until the Florentine master, pictorial perspective was elaborated only starting from a vanishing point towards which converged all horizontal lines. Leonardo added the third dimension, the color, the light which, whilst it distanced, it also affected the perception of all the elements in the composition” (author’s trans.) 9 In English: “Really by chance I said I was going to do Vinci, starting from a picture I had seen. [...] I did not think too much of it throughout the year, then I went to Italy, conducted some research on Vinci; there I realized that his entire

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Thus, with the set aim to investigate the complementarity between technology, humanity and the paradoxical, multi-sensorial nature of art, Vinci started to be developed in rehearsals using as main “Resource” the above mentioned cartoon by Vinci coupled with Lepage’s directorial intention to devise a solo situated at the intersection of theatre, visual art and other media, with technology employed at sight. The first version, presented in March 1986, rather a sketch compared to its further developments, contained already the discourse of the blind Italian narrator – the “Prologue” – thematically framing the show, and articuling clearly creative intentions for all the nine scenes developed (Corrivault 1986).10 In the booklet of Vinci, Lepage highlights his endeavor as one that does not ambition to present the biography or “paint the portrait” of the mythical artist, but “rather attempts to evoke, simply and directly, a series of questions asked, a journey made, a path taken”(Lepage in Bunzli in 2000, 25). In other words, the intention was to suggest a personal journey of artistic enquiry connected to the iconic Rennaisance figure, a journey materialized on stage through a multi-layered narrative, with intermedial moments stimulating multi-sensoriality, in which the spectator’s role became important in articulating the narrative for her/himself. Lepage’s intention – as expressed in the booklet – was to develop a performance with significant sensorial impact upon its viewers; so significant that it would alter their perspective upon the act of viewing in general: Je cherche tout d’abord à créer une impression chez le spectateur. Je veux faire appel á sa sensibilité plutôt qu’a sa raison. Mon propos n’est pas

work was imbued with paradox, including Mona Lisa. Even this overexploited painting [...] is an ultimate attempt to make technology and humanity complementary, make them contradict each other on the same canvas and thus affecting us. [new paragraph] From there came the theme of the paradox of the artist, trying to say profound things through a sort of technical demonstration. From there came the use technology in Vinci. [...] The spirit in which he [Vinci] worked, produced an ingenious result [...] I had to find a way for the audience to hear the click of the projector, or see the ‘pegs,’ whilst turning the performance into something both ingenious and ethereal” (author’s trans.). 10 Throughout its three years of life, Vinci altered periodically, yet key changes could still be traced. According to the Ex Machina archives, the two main versions of the solo show – in French (80 minutes) and in English (60 minutes) – contained passages in Italian (the exposés the blind narrator) and English (the monologue of the British guide) subtitled accordingly during performance. The final English version (translated by Linda Gaboriau) contains a significant change in terms of text: the blind narrator’s speech is in English, retaining a strong Italian accent. This is the version Bunzli refers to, also.

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intellectuel mais sensible, aussi le son, la lumière occupent ils une place importante dans le spectacle (Lepage in Vinci booklet 1986).11

Reviews of Vinci in its first stage of development already speak highly of the production, in terms of medial inventiveness and narrative approach, identifying a strong visual and aural impact upon the spectators. Raymond Bernatchez in “Un pas de plus vers le Théâtre global” considers the show “un fête pour l’oeil et pour l’oreille”12 (1986). Jocelyne Boisvert in “Un moment théâtral exceptionnel” describes the solo as: Structuré, cohérent, magique, ingénieux, stimulant, intègre. Un festin pour l’œil et pour l’oreille, mais également pour l’intelligence, celle du cœur avant tout. VINCI est un spectacle qui touche, qui émeut, et aussi qui éblouit (1986).13

Robert Lévesque, reviewing the performance of the opening night and the one that followed in “Du dome au crane, l’écho de la vie,” defines Vinci as a show over-coded with images and messages, a performance that needs to be seen twice in order to put aside its overwhelming sensorial impact and gain real access to its narrative and additional/metaphorical meanings. Furthermore, Lévesque proposes an interpretation of Vinci in terms of distance. By this the author refers to several things: (1) the physical distance that has to be overcome by the protagonist throughout the journey undertaken in Vinci, (2) the distance created through the use of different languages (i.e. Italian, French and English), (3) the distance created between the various foreign languages used and their translation – performed via the subtitles projected on screen, in front of the audience, (4) the distance created through the “relocation of sensations” experienced by the spectator whilst observing the “special” moments of performance (i.e. intermedial configurations) throughout their live unfolding on stage. According to the Québécois critic, Vinci’s division intothe nine scenes that correspond to the nine stages of initiation and to the nine type of sensations transmitted, each of them an occasion for spectatorial 11

In English: “I am looking first of all to create an impression upon the viewer. I want to appeal to his sensitivity rather than to his reason. My proposal is not intellectual but sensorial, as sound and light occupy an important place in the show” (author’s trans.). 12 In English: “a joy for the eye and the ear” (author’s trans.) 13 In English: “Structured, coherent, magical, ingenious, stimulating, honest. A feast for the eye and the ear, but also for the intelligence of the heart, first and foremost. VINCI is a performance that moves, that creates emotion and also dazzles” (author’s trans.).

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amazement and surprise. In support of his interpretation Lévesque maintains: Lepage arrive à créer des scènes tableaux où les éléments de réalité sont habilement déréalisés. La scène du camping est la plus réussie à cet égard. La scène du Burger King, où une Mona Lisa de la rue Soufflot interpelle ce photographe canadien est derrière une apparence de comédie (Lepage est un acteur superbe: à ce moment –la, il ‘est’ cette Joconde ‘branchée’), un faisceau des signes sur la ‘distance’, cette Mona étant un personnage travesti, elle est traductrice, elle est modèle (Lévesque 1986, 9).14

On the same vein, Lévesque analyses in detail the “Dome of Florence” moment, which he labels as an impressive visual and aural achievement from a spectacular point of view (Lévesque: 9). Vinci’s second version, presented first at l’Implanthéatre in QuébecCity, was an opportunity for Martine Corrivault to postulate that Lepage was the inventor of a new type of theatrical language. Corrivault interprets Lepage’s artistic endeavor in Vinci as a matter of communication with contemporary audience, using a new type of theatrical language: [L]a communication est affaire de langage. Chacun doit trouver son vocabulaire pour rejoindre les autres. Chaque époque possède le sien: la notre prépare actuellement celui des générations futures. Les artistes, les créateurs qui ne se laissent pas arrêter par les difficultés, ont toujours été les pionniers de la communication. A Québec, Robert Lepage appartient à cette catégorie. Son plus récent spectacle, ‘Vinci’, qui prend l’affiche mardi, à l’Implanthéatre, illustre bien sa démarche (Corivault 1986).15

Regarding the impact of Vinci in France, Guy Teissier in his study “French Critical Response to the New Theater of Robert Lepage” (2000) 14

In English: “Lepage manages to create tableaux where elements of reality are cleverly de- and re-constructed. The camping scene is the most successful in this respect. The Burger King scene, where a Mona Lisa coming from the Soufflot Street interpelates the Canadian photographer is, besides its comedic appearance (and Lepage is a superb actor; at that moment he is 'the Mona Lisa' entirely), an intersection of multiple signs about 'distance:' this Mona Lisa is a transvestite, a translator and a model” (author’s trans.). 15 In English: “Communication is a matter of language. Everyone must find their own vocabulary in order to join the others. Every era has its own language and ours prepares, in fact, the language of future generations. Artists/ creators that do not allow themselves to be stopped by difficulties, have always been the pioneers of communication. In Québec, Robert Lepage belongs to this category. His most recent show Vinci, which opens on Tuesday at Implanthéatre, illustrates quite well his artistic approach” (author’s trans.).

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highlights that French critics tended to take a cautious and “slow,” if not skeptical, approach towards the discovery of Lepage’s theatre. While the press at home covered extensively (and enthusiastically) Vinci’s success in Limoges and Avignon, the press in France was more reserved. Nevertheless – according to Teissier – after the performances in Limoges, French critic J. Parneix evoked in Le Populaire du Centre “a rare emotional shock” and “gave the most dithyrambic and substantial review” of the piece (Teissier 2000, 232). Parneix’s review extensively praised both the inventive narrative approach and the technical prowess of Vinci: The play of mirrors is constant among the luminous projections, the props, the music and the sound. The entire production is regulated to the micron, to the nearly one–hundredth of a second, with the aid of computer science, which makes its entrance into theater. A flashlight is enough to project grandiose images onto the background, a telescoping rod or a tape measure can evoke millions of things, a pitched tent creates the images of apocalyptic scenes… One comes away from all that with a feeling of manifest simplicity. And yet the scaffolding that one can make out behind the structure is incredibly complex (Parneix in Teissier 2000, 232-33).

Jacques Morlaud, cultural columnist for the Parisian newspaper L’Humanité, had also laudatory comments for Lepage’s solo, especially regarding its formal inventiveness and sensorial stimulation: [T]he festival participants were sensitive to Vinci’s innovative formal aspect. […] Even if the reflection on art might seem a bit superficial, this production surprises and incites dreams with its aesthetic beauty, its clever construction and its interpretation (Morlaud quoted in Teissier 2000, 233).

Studies dedicated to Vinci interpreted in various terms the novelty of Lepage’s directorial proposal, already substantially covered by the cultural press. All scholars make reference – explicitly or implicitly – to the medial interplay, the unexpected mixture of the visual and the aural, and observe and/or imply a substantial effect in spectatorship. Hébert and PerelliContos in “D’un art du mouvement à une art en mouvement: Du cinéma au théâtre de l’image” (2000) define Vinci as an explorative journey into the world of the new (and unsettling) codes of visuality, brought in by the impact of new media in theatre. The scholars enthusiastically proclaim: À un moment ou s’implante un nouvel ordre visuel – qui est en train de rompre avec les règles de représentation implantées depuis la Renaissance (et de ce point de vue la référence a Léonard de Vinci ne serait pas fortuite) – ce que son théâtre explore au moyen de l’image et au delà de celle-ci, ce

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Their study interprets all medial elements involved in the production of Vinci to have been (ultimately) used as sensitive “Resources” in the process of performance. According to the scholars, by employing montage and associative techniques as part of the mise-en-scene and dramaturgical strategy, Lepage proposes a reflection upon art that moves back and forth from the moment of the invention of perspective, in Renaissance, to this day. Furthermore scholars suggest that, in the economy of performance, each scene corresponds to a new and different stage of medial exploration (Hébert and Perelli-Contos 2000-01, 67). In “L’écriture scénique actuelle. L’exemple de ‘Vinci’” the solo is analyzed as an ideal model of contemporary Québécois theatre, a perfect illustration of “théâtre de recherche” (Hébert 1994, 54). Hébert maintains that each scene corresponds to another initiatic level of the selfexploratory journey taken by the protagonist, that is, in fact, a journey to the historical roots of the Québécois culture.17 At the same time, the scholar suggests that the origins of our relation with media (and technology, in the scholar’s terms) are to be found in the Renaissance and particularly in Leonardo da Vinci’s explorations (Hébert 1994, 58). According to Hébert, the Renaissance is treated in Vinci as the meeting place between different cognitive paradigms belonging to art, science, and technology, which all participate in the process of construing a new perspective upon the “artistic truth,” and “through which a systematic and holistic rapport between the human and the cosmos is being elaborated” (1994, 56-57). Similarly, the elements pertaining to the history of culture evoked by Vinci‘s narrative provide a cognitive foundation for the construction of a new perspective, based on cultural and medial hybridity. In the conclusion to her study, Hébert proposes the concept of “métissage culturel,”18 able – in her opinion – to account for the hybridization of “major” and “minor” tones in the construction of the narrative, as well as 16 In English: “At the time where a new visual order is being implemented – which is about to break-up with rules of representation established since Renaissance (and from this point of view the reference to Leonardo da Vinci is not al all fortuitous) – what his [ Lepage’s] theatre explores by means of image and beyond, is precisely the codes of the visible [seeable] that are overturned by the impact of technology” (author’s trans.). 17 Hébert suggests in her analysis that the trajectory of the protagonist appears to be a gradual journey back to the historical sources of the Québecois culture (1994, 55). 18 In English: “cultural mixing” (ahutor’s trans.).

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for the reinterpretation of various iconic elements pertaining to Western cultural reality, based on the hybrid principle (1994, 56). In Hébert’s opinion, the hybridizations performed in Vinci explain the feeling of décalage,19 reccurently highlighted throughout the performance as an essential condition of art and experienced by the spectators in the situation of live performance. Thus, the hybridity of the solo responds to the expectations of a contemporary audience difficult to amaze. The theatrical images created by Lepage are at the same time familiar and surprising, the surprise coming from the recurrent alteration of perspective, or – in the terms proposed by the present study – from the quasi-continuous alternation of distance in spectatorship. Irène Perelli-Contos in “Vinci. Le Jeu de Vaincre” describes the show as an artistic pilgrimage, or a shamanistic ritual of initiation, in which Lepage’s character(s) and the spectators are taken to the conflictual and often paradoxical sources of creation: De Québec jusqu’au village Vinci, il réussit, á l’aide d’une technologie simple mai savamment utilisée, à amener le spectateur avec lui. Plus qu’une représentation, Vinci est d’abord un tête-à-tête intime avec le public, un partage des interrogations de Lepage sur les oppositions VieMort, Art-Mort, Amour-Haine: sur l’être humain et les conflits qui l’animent (Perelli-Contos 1988, 66, emphasis in original).20

Thus, it is implied that intimacy, the interplay of arts and their medial transpositions, and the concern for the spectator are situated at the core of Lepage’s show. Furthermore, the Québécois theatrical magazine Jeu published, in 1988, an extensive Vinci “dossier”21 that attempted to provide a thorough account of the solo. All studies comprised highlight – much like the 19

The concept of décalage is introduced by the director himself, in Vinci, Scene 2: “Big-Ben: London” and further used as a key analytical concept by Bunzli (see Introduction, pp 13-15). 20 In English: “From Québec to the village of Vinci, he [Lepage] succeeded, with the help of simple technology, yet cleverly used, to bring the viewer with him. [new paragraph] More than a performance, Vinci is primarily an intimate tête-à-tête with the public, a sharing of questions Lepage has about oppositions such as: LifeDeath, Art-Death, Love-Hate, about the human being and the conflicts that animate him/her” (author’s trans.). 21 The authors of the “Vinci” file are Diane Pavlovic, Solange Lévesque, Carole Fréchette and Lorraine Camerlain. The file contains reviews and analyses of Lepage’s show as well as an interview with the artist. For further details see Bibliography.

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reviews and studies discussed above – a strong reliance on visual and aural effects and an openly expressed attempt to engage the spectators by provoking a recurrent impresion of “décalage.” In conclusion, by surveying the accounts related to Vinci, one can state that a directorial focus on the development of unexpected intermedial configurations aiming to provoke a strong visual and/or aural impact and to timulate a change in perspective were highlighted by reviewers and theatre scholars alike. The descriptive analysis bellow will follow the same focus in order to observe in more detail the effects in spectatorship. When discussing the scenographic apparatus that made the visual and the aural effects possible one must state that Vinci was performed in a small “boîte à l’italienne,” a direct allusion to the Albertian window and the laws of perspective developed in Renaissance, implying a sovereign spectator in control of a unique, “ideal” perspective of viewing. However, this convention of spectatorship established by the nature of scenic space will be repeatedly challenged throughout the solo via the intermedial moments performed. Moreover the set’s central piece, a white screen reminding the spectator of cinematic habitudes of observance and covering the downstage area, was used throughout the performance for still image projections as well as shadow-play. The set engendered, thus, right from the start, a hybrid sensation of being situated in an ambiguous space, both theatrical and cinematic. In front of the screen, a 50 cm high wall of stained glass, with support behind it, traversed the stage. Its role was to support the toy train that enacted the visual metaphor for travelling and to filter in the stage light, to create specific moods and achieve an atmosphere that changed according to the needs of the narrative. In addition to the scenographic set-up described above, discreetly reminding the spectator of the cinematic apparatus, another type of screen became apparent during the performance through the way in which the body and the props were occasionally manipulated. In several instances the use of the body as a canvas for video projection, alongside similarly suggestive content described in words, created the impression of an immaterial, yet unmistakably real, in terms of perception, screen on which, paradoxically, theatrical images were projected/performed – i.e. the very rapid movement of the blind Italian narrator’s white cane created the impression of a screen, on which slides were projected in Scene 7, creating a distinctive intermedial effect. The light design in Vinci was a combination of: (1) naturalistic lighting aspiring to create the impression of realness of the places and times evoked by the solo, (2) stylized theatrical light designed to enhance the atmosphere of particular moments while serving the shadow-play and the

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projections, and (3) cinematic lighting aiming to enhance the visual focus on specific details in the scene(s) by stimulating a “close-up” perception for particular elements considered important for the narrative. Thus, the hybridization of cinematic and theatrical conventions is present in this aspect of the production, too. The sound design, consistent with the directorial strategy acknowledged, (also) tended to hybridize cinematic and theatrical conventions contributing to the intermedial effect. The sound was amplified, at times altered digitally, in direct relation to the needs of the narrative. Furthermore – according to Fouquet – starting with Vinci, in all Lepagean performances microphones were positioned in several places on stage, as well as on the costume of the protagonist (2002, 389). Their role was to break theatrical distance in terms of sound projection and create a sensation of intimacy, in direct relationship with the quasiautobiographical nature of the solos, allowing the performer to engage with cinematic techniques of delivery if needed. Thus, through the use of microphones, the moments that required naturalistic acting could be performed in accordance to filmic conventions, involving different levels of vocal projection and nuancing. Furthermore, sound alterations and the different levels of amplification cued the spectator to the different stage identities taken by Lepage throughout the performance and contributed to the creation of a specific spatialising effect in performance – i.e. the echo effect of the “Dome of Florence” moment. Also, the recurrent use of aural clichés provided an easy way-in into the fictional world – i.e. traffic sounds recreated the busy atmosphere of London, sounds of jet plane and repetitive bits of phrases spoken by the flight attendant, asking the passengers to fasten the their seat belts, recreated the impression of an airplane preparing for take off, etc. Thus, one could argue that the amplification of sound contributed discreetly, yet effectively to engendering hybrid conventions of spectatorship and to the intermediality of the mise-en-scene throughout. According to the program and the manuscript, Vinci had a prologue and nine scenes referred to as: (prologue) – “Itinerary,” (1) – “Take-Off,” (2) – “Big-Ben, London (jet-lag),” (3) – “Virgin and Child with St. Anne, National Gallery, London,” (4) – “Burger King, boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris,” (5) – “Mona Lisa, Oil on canvas 77 x 53 cm., Louvre, Paris,” (6) – “Camping in Cannes,” (7) – “Duomo, Firenze,” (8) – “Shower Room, Firenze,” and (9) – “Vinci (A hillside of Olive Tress).”

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The show commences with a slide image of The Vitruvius Man22 projected on the screen and with the recorded preface of the theatrical journey, in the form of a voice-off poetic text that frames the entire solo under the theme of visuality. A narrative connection is, thus, established, right from the start, between the soul and the eye, the world of emotions and vision, arguably the most distancing of all human senses. Vision, nevertheless, is here considered the ultimate weapon to conquer the world, in the attempt to “understand” it, as the poetic text suggests: Voyage:/Back and forth through the eye,/ Through the soul/Vision: To see the stain on the eye, on the soul/ Again and again/ Victory:/To perish with the eye, /or with the soul/ To come/To see/To conquer/Veni/ Vidi/ Vinci (Lepage in Hunt 1989, 106).

Thus, by thematically situating visuality at the vanguard of the sensorial apparatus, a clear statement is made regarding the intermedial nature of the journey proposed for the spectator. The moment described above blends seamlessly into the “Prologue,” where the idea of travel is first introduced visually, through the projection of the title-sentence “Art is a vehicle,” whilst a toy train circles at the foot of the screen, above the stained glass wall. The first character impersonated by Lepage – ironically a blind Italian narrator23 who will serve as a guide throughout the entire journey of artistic self-discovery – commences a monologue, punctuated rhythmically by music performed live. The speech itself is a mixture of genres. Rhetorically and structurally, it follows the rules of a scientific lecture. In terms of content, however, rhetorical conventions are first installed then challenged; we learn that the 22 The complete reference for Leonardo da Vinci’s work is: The proportions of the Human Figure, after Vitruvius (1490). (Pen, ink and watercolour over metal point, 344X245mm-Venice: Gallerie dell’Accademia). The work is (arguably) the best known of all Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings. The Vitruvius Man is, also, generally acknowledged as the Italian artist’s interpretation of the findings of Roman Empire architect Vitruvius on the proportions of human body. 23 The presence of a blind narrator, which will reoccur in Lepage’s later performances such as The Seven Streams of the River Ota (1994) and Geometry of Miracles (1998), endorses the complexity of the issue of visuality and its connection to other senses. As Fouquet rightfully observes, the blind narrator in Vinci tends to fetishize objects that do not exist for him, through a tactile, more sensitive contact. Whilst he is missing sight, his other senses are considerably more developed (Fouquet 2002, 59). This invites the spectator to a particular positioning in relation to the protagonist (Lepage’s scenic alter-ego) and the action of the solo.

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character himself is aware of his fictional condition and that he is brought forward by the author in order give more weight to the words spoken on stage. A sensation of hypermediacy is, thus, engendered thematically. The speech highlights further aspects of medial awareness, in particular the specificity of theatre as an art form, arguing in favor of what we could call an awareness of intermediality, as the blind Italian guide acknowledges the toy train to be a visual metaphor for the sentence projected on screen and attempts to develop a connecting argument between all elements presented on stage and visual art, preparing the terrain for the journey to ensue. In “Take-Off,” Philippe – the protagonist – is introduced, seated on a swivel chair that stands (theatrically) for an airplane seat, with a plastic tray in his lap. Amplified sounds of jet airplane engine, mixed with repetitive bits of safety procedure discourse, and the performer’s tightly choreographed movements (all the while sat in the chair) suggest an airplane take off, construing an intermedial moment that hybridizes cinematic and theatrical conventions. During the “flight,” through Philippe’s monologue, performed in direct address to the audience, we are introduced to the character’s psychological turmoil, caused by his close friend’s recent suicide, which arguably triggered his sudden need for traveling to Europe, in search for a response to the identity/artistic crisis provoked by his friend’s sudden death. The bodily movements performed throughout the monologue sustain the conventions of flying established at the beginning of the scene. The “landing” follows the same performative visual and aural patterns: Lepage stamps his feet on the floor to suggest the airplane reaching the ground, then deconstructs the very conventions established at the beginning of the scene, by standing up and disposing of the swivel chair as if its was a neutral element, whilst a mixture of recorded and amplified flight sound effects underline the sensorial aspects of the flight’s arrival and suggest the preparation to face “the unknown.” The second scene – “Big Ben, London” – describes, through a sequence of quickly edited figments of impressions, governed by an overall sensation of décalage, the cultural shock experienced by the provincial young Québécois artist/photographer during a fast-paced sightseeing bus tour of London. On a formal level, the scene takes further the complexity of medial hybridizations proposed so far. After a stereotypical introduction of the city through its main cultural highlights – achieved via an aural-visual combination of Big-Ben Tower images on slide projection and amplified church-bell sounds – a new character is presented in silhouette: the British tour guide of a London double-decker, the tourist bus. In fact, the character that we see performed with exclusively live theatre means is only a detail of a shadow-play image, as

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in the negative of a filmic image, in extremely tight close-up. Cinematic conventions are here superimposed on the shadow-play format and performed with exclusively theatrical means. The details silhouetted are the guide’s head, cap and microphone, all framed by the front window of the bus. The increasingly rapid movements of the scene are paced even more by the rhythmic music (in MTV video-clip style of the 1980s) and the guide’s speech, amplified by the sound system, keeping up with the increasing rhythm of the music. The spoken text is filled with cultural clichés, citing stereotypes of Britishness, which create a sensation of proximity for the spectator, but also emphasize, through repetitive underlining, three interconnected leitmotifs meant to take further the “impressionistic,” sensorially driven narrative: “open the window,” “look into the mirror,” and “a strange feeling of décalage.” The intermedial configuration proposed here draws the spectator’s attention to the swift alternations of distance, and highlights the alternating impressions of immediacy and hypermediacy. The narrative, construed either through the superimposition or hybridization of medial elements described above, jump-cuts then to a rapid succession of slides with details from Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings and notes of war-machines, then blends into a “blitzkrieg style” narrative description of the bombing of London during World War II, in 1941, supported visually through shadow-play elements, then to a flash-like description of Big Ben, combined with clichéd reflections about the nature of time, illustrated visually through the apparition, in silhouette, of a mechanical toy boxer punching in a boxing ring. The war/aggression theme is then reintroduced in connection to da Vinci’s work, to sustain the idea – articulated through “voice-off” speech – that “the difference between love and hate is simply a question of speed” and to dramatically underscore the “feeling of décalage” provoked by the multitude of sensations and unexpected associations proposed. Paradoxical details regarding the Italian artist’s personality are introduced via speech,24 while the screen tilts and then lowers, letting the spectator see the silhouette of a toy ship, with toy soldiers sinking. The scene then ends suddenly, in blackout, while the word “décalage” is echoed and amplified by sound in a suggestively obsessive manner. The third scene – “Virgin and Child with St. Anne…” – provides a change of pace, while shifting the focus to the exploration of the initial “Resource” of the solo. The medium of photography – as a theme – and the transfer of information regarding “artistic truth” from painting to 24 The text makes reference to the fact that Vinci hated human suffering, and yet invented war machines; he reworked, in the Vitruvius Man, the divine proportions of human body and yet was accused of sodomy (Hunt 1989, 107).

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photography are being tackled through the narrative, in direct connection to spectatorial perception. Philippe finds himself in the National Gallery in London and takes pictures of Leonardo da Vinci’s cartoon. While the narrative convention established by stage movement introduces the spectator to this new moment, the awareness of the spectators of themselves while spectating, and as part of the character’s journey, is engendered by the fact that the performer takes pictures of the space around him, and of the audience also, thus de-constructing the theatrical spatial convention established at the start. The experience of the museum and then of the enlightened moment, of the epiphany, is conveyed sensorially through the amplified, echoed sounds of Philippe’s camera and of his footsteps. Once the character has finished taking pictures, the narrative jump-cuts to another space, momentarily undefined, through a simple dimming of stage lights. Philippe takes out of his backpack a glass film-processing tray, pours water into it and places it on top of a flashlight, centre-stage. As he lays prints into the tray, one by one, the spectator sees in the background, each time, a different detail of the “Virgin and Child…” or – in Lepage’s terms – the “fingerprint [s],” the “mark of the artist,” projected on background screen, in a succession of slides that follows the rhythm established by the actor’s naturalistic movements. The chemical process of photography development performed here live is, thus, thematically connected with the theme of visual perception. At the same time, it aims to stimulate, for the spectator, thoughts about the intricacies of the creative process in general. The scene concludes with another narrative connection, realized only with visual means, that leads the spectator into the next scene: a paper toy-ship is set to sail in the glass tray which was already removed by Lepage from centre-stage and placed at the foot of the screen. The silhouette window, with an image reminding of the sketched negative diorama of London, reappears for a few seconds in the background then suddenly disappears, while a cliché image of the city of Paris approaches in silhouette and the electric toy train resumes its circle. Scene 4 – “Burger King, boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris” – introduces hybridization at the level of character construction. Bearing amazing visual resemblance with da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, but speaking with a contemporary, discreetly parodied Parisian accent, while holding on to a Burger King soft-drink container, Lepage performs a frustrated SaintGermain performance artist who pays her bills by providing guided tours in English, for foreigners, at the Louvre Museum. The character, a hybrid construct and a collection of stereotypes, is always performed in semiprofile to the audience, citing visually the original Mona Lisa, and as if

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Philippe, to whom she talks, would be situated either left-stage or rightstage. The post-modern, urban Mona Lisa rages against contemporary politics, as well as postmodernism and its visual trickeries – all glass and mirrors that prevent the audience from real proximity with the work of art – and, ironically, in postmodern fashion, praises Burger King and fast-food for encapsulating the very idea of nourishment. Throughout the monologue, the theme of photography in connection with contemporary audience expectations is further explored. The hybrid character talks about the distance and coldness engendered by the contemporary themes of photography – in Philippe’s case bathrooms –, about photography itself as an artistic medium and about the limits of engagement in relation to the public display of artifacts trapped, as they are, in “glass cages.” The postmodern, urban Mona Lisa discards postmodernism (!) and proposes instead – as a more human, warm and authentic alternative – the artistic work in Renaissance and in particular da Vinci’s work, who, nevertheless – as its is acknowledged – used the same artistic virtuosity in inventing war machines as contemporary world does. The monologue tackles issues of audience response to art in contemporaneity, as well as the paradoxical nature of artistic creation, of a more a-temporal nature. The moment is conveyed exclusively through live theatrical means, reconfiguring distance in spectatorship, by comparison the previous scenes, in favor of the theatrical. However, the numerous references to the medial aspects of the arts reiterate intermediality and hybridization at a thematic level. After a short blackout, an interlude follows, with the blind Italian narrator presenting the audience with “A brief anthology of Artistic Creations Which Have Defied the Rigid Rules of the Tape Measure.”25 A retractable tape measure is manipulated in highly skilled, unexpected and ingenious ways and, in combination with the performer’s body used as a canvas, leads to the creation of a series of hybrid visual images that suggest a number of iconic human cultural achievements, which are verbally enumerated by the Italian guide, just in order to conclude that “the difference between art and death is simply a question of … speed.” The enumeration, delivered in Italian, includes: pre-historic sculpture, the Pyramid of Cheops, the Statue of Liberty, David by Michelangelo, Big Ben, The Great Wall of China, Mona Lisa, a Picasso painting, the invention of radio, the photography, cinema, television, jazz, the movie Jaws and Michael Jackson’s Moon Walk. This moment takes further the 25

The interlude becomes a scene in itself in the final version of Vinci (according to the English and French manuscripts of the show) and it is entitled “The Tape Measure.” Yet the official version of the video recording maintains the two scenes as one.

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artistic and medial themes introduced previously by focusing on the technical aspects of creation through the body-prop exemplification. The spectator becomes, thus, inevitably involved imaginatively in the production of meaning in a surprising yet highly theatrical manner. Scene 5 – “Mona Lisa…” – presents a thoroughly documented “voiced-off” story about the lesser-known 1911 theft of Mona Lisa. This is accompanied visually, in scientific lecture manner; by slide projections with names and dates, details of the theft. The visual support underscores the hybridized dramaturgical convention established by the previous speeches of the Italian guide and constitutes itself as a mixture of scientific and rhetorical organization of data, with minimal framing elements pertaining to theatrical monologue, just in order to maintain spectatorial attention within the same lines, and theatre as a framing medium. The scene ends, surprisingly, in direct address to Philippe, the protagonist, and offers a response to his quest for artistic inspiration by suggesting – of course – Vinci’s example, which means that in order to attain creative freedom one has to be ready “to jump into ze light.”26 Scene 6 – “Camping in Cannes” – is composed of two parts: the setting up of a tent on stage in the dark, in real time,27 followed by Philippe’s nightmare that reveals his inability to finalise the film started together with his late friend Marc, an inability which, we find out, is the (actual, pragmatic) reason for which the self-exploratory journey of the protagonist started, in the first place. The set-up of the tent is a pretext for the development of another unexpected and imaginative intermedial moment. A soundscape, a mixture of contemporary experimental percussion music and computerized sound effects is performed live to illustrate aurally Philippe’s momentarily inner chaos. Visually, Philippe’s carefully choreographed movements – handling the metal parts of the tent while desperately attempting to set up the tent – contribute to the establishment of a tensed atmosphere. The combination reminds of cinematic conventions of climatic building-up of tension. The second part of the scene contains another type of intermedial provocation, through visual trickery. Inside the tent, the spectator sees the performer’s silhouette – now as Marc – raised above the body of Philippe asleep, the shape of his body had been swiftly made of props and fabric, and casting an impressive, nightmarish shadow. The shadow-play moment is accomplished though 26

Lepage’s discourse here supports McLuhan’s theory in The Gutenberg Galaxy (1964), which interprets light as the ultimate medium incorporated in all other media known (so far). 27 According to general theatrical conventions a very dim stage light, which creates the impression of night on stage.

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the skilled manipulation of a flashlight. The tent’s cover becomes the screen on which Philippe’s dream, of a dramatic physical struggle between the two friends, unfolds. The ending breaks the tension accumulated, providing a sudden alteration in distance, through the sensation of hypermediacy engendered by the performer’s deconstruction of the narrative and visual convention of the entire moment, by the simple gesture of holding the flashlight to the ground. Then, seamlessly and immediately, another symbolic image is offered by propelling the performer’s body over the light. Thus, both the deceptively simple use of technology, for image de-construction and re-construction, and the illusion of a jump-off the cliff, the leap into “ze light,” are practically suggested by the same moment.28 The nightmare ends with Philippe’s screams of awakening, while the toy train starts circling in his proximity. Again, in terms of spectatorship, sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy are rapidly alternated and, ultimately, cohabitate within the experience of the same scene. Two sets of hybridizations take place throughout, one pertaining to the superimposition of sound effects on visual movements, the other to the juxtaposition of shadow play and cinematic conventions. The tent used as a screen and the struggle as well as the fall from the cliffs and the “voiced-off” monologue remind of well-known cinematic conventions pertaining to the thriller genre, engendering a cinematic experience within the framing medium of theatre. Scene 7 – “Duomo, Firenze” – brings the Italian guide back on stage, to take the spectators on an imaginary tour of the Baptistery, the Belltower and the Cathedral of Florence. The impression of cathedral acoustics is convincingly suggested through an alternation of live amplified sound, attempting to re-create the famous echo of the Florence edifice, and unamplified voice, which provides a switch of distance in aural perception and engenders the feeling of authenticity, through the immediacy effect achieved. The unique architectural and visual art accomplishments of various Renaissance artists that contributed to the architectural masterpieces of Florence are praised in the speech, while architecture is physically performed29. Diegetically, the attention is drawn to several well-known features that defy the laws of gravity and the limitations of 28

The action connects to the blind Italian guide’s guidance addressed to Philippe at the end of the previous scene. 29 Dundjerovich details: “Existing coincidences of form between the dome of a cathedral, the arch of a human skull, and the dimensions of human body come together to connect ideas in the performance (an analogy of architecture and the human body that he [Lepage] would further explore, ten years later, in the collectively created The Geometry of Miracles)” (2007: 57).

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rigid measurements. Details are not provided on stage by any visual means; instead they are supposed to be projected in the spectators’ imagination,30 and associated – whether directly or indirectly – with da Vinci’s unique creative freedom, which leads the Italian guide to the conclusion that: “the difference between flight and the force of gravity is simply a question of speed.” Once the Renaissance artist re-introduced to the narrative, the performer starts to manipulate the white cane so quickly that the movement creates an immaterial screen on which slides of da Vinci’s famous paintings are being projected. The medial superimposition of bodily movement, slide projections and theatrical speech (monologue) creates a sensation of medial in-between-ness difficult to ascribe to any medium in particular, at least according to current medial conventions, and activates spectatorial imagination, at the same time providing a sensation of hypermediacy. A new and impressive intermedial effect is, thus, performed upon the spectator. Scene 8 – “The shower room, Firenze” – narrates the encounter between Leonardo da Vinci and Philippe in a public bath in Florence. The performer wears only a bath towel. To create the illusion of a steaming bath, hot water falls from time to time from above onto the tiles situated at one side of the stage. One can see steam rising to the ceiling. As he starts to shave, Philippe covers half of his face in foam, forming white hair and a beard, a reference to Leonardo da Vinci’s famous portrait as an old man. The two characters become, thus, superimposed on the performer’s body, while diegetically we are made to understand that Philippe sees himself as da Vinci only in the mirror of the public bathroom; a mirror that is, in fact, present only in the audience imagination and serves “as an instrument to project the hidden self” (Dundjerovic 2007: 58) in the paradoxical space of public intimacy and exposure that is the public bathroom. Lepage formally establishes the convention of dialogue through swift, discrete head turns, in fact a switch of semi-profiles. The pace of both movement and dialogue gives the spectator time to acknowledge and absorb the theatrical convention proposed, yet not to become bored with it. Thus, the audience’s imagination is invited to become an extension space for the narrative proposed on stage. At diegetic levels, the dialogue between the two engages with the nature and contradictions of art. Through da Vinci’s 30

The speech actually provokes the spectator’s imagination by proposing the theatrical illusion through means of suggestion: “If there is anyone amongst you who, like myself, cannot see these stained glass windows, these domes and these masterpieces, ma, […] let someone simply suggest them to you and if you see them from the inside, at that moment you are as great an architect as Leonardo da Vinci, for imagination allows you to soar to liberating heights” (Lepage 1986, 31).

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responses, Lepage – as a director and author of the solo – de-constructs the story proposed so far via the mise-en-scene, unraveling thematically the intermedial aspects of its realization on stage. Thus, the performer’s journey through the several characters presented on stage is put under scrutiny, just in order to conclude that art is, inevitably, a paradox and a contradiction in itself. All diegetic and medial elements presented by the solo until this very moment merge into discourse to reach the simple, yet climactic and, most importantly, paradoxical conclusion voiced by Lepage’s momentarily impersonation of da Vinci: When I’ve gotta stain, Philippe, I let time and the clear water of lucidity wash it away. Art is the result of a conflict between your heart and your head. Art is a conflict. If there’s no conflict, there’s no art, Philippe, no artists. Art is a paradox, a contradiction. Now, go and wash yourself, Philippe (Lepage in Hunt 1989, 110).

Figure 4-1.The “jump into ze light”

In the final scene – “Vinci” – the image of the tiny village of Vinci is recreated as if seen from above the hills by placing several travel-guide books on their sides so that, from the spectators’ angle of viewing, they appear to be rooftops of houses. An unexpected perspective is, thus, provided, making reference to cinematic clichés of travel documentary (i.e. the town seen from the cliffs above), realized exclusively with theatrical means. The contemplation of the “view” thus creates triggers,

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for the protagonist; the necessity of closure. This is achieved via an inner dialogue with Marc, the defunct friend, which turns ultimately into a dialogue of the protagonist with his own artistic self, thus, allowing for the cathartic moment to happen, as well as for his re-naissance as an artist. Philippe declares that he has come, has seen, but has still to conquer,31 takes his backpack and runs to the side of the stage as if to “jump in the void” from the edge of a cliff, above the village. A short moment of blackout ensues, followed by what constitutes, in medial terms, a switch to shadow-play that exposes Philippe in silhouette (behind the screen) repeating the “jump,” tightly choreographed, several times. The final image shows the performer’s silhouette with huge open wings attached (see Figure 4-1) as in Leonardo’s famous drawing of flight machines, keeping still for a moment to create “a stain” on the eye of the spectator, and then gradually moving his wings and body to generate the impression of flight. The climactic soundscape performed live makes strong reference to cinematic conventions of supporting music for a grand finale, reinforcing the apotheotic feeling of liberation for the protagonist and inviting the spectator to empathize – to partake in the joy – before the stage turns to black to mark the end of the solo. The final image of the performance is construed intermedially, through a hybridization of medial conventions pertaining to shadow-play and cinema, realized within the framing medium of theatre. The final moment, much like the beginning, situates the screen in the centre of the narrative, with the difference that the end integrates the body of the performer into the image as a sign of an accomplished journey in search for artistic identity. In conclusion, in medial terms, Vinci incorporates within the framing medium of theatre – which includes the technology of live performing (speech, gesture, movement) and the related scenographic apparatus (set, light and sound design) – several other media, intermedially interrogated from thematic, aesthetic and material perspectives. The presence of visual and aural media becomes most often apparent through the establishment and then altering/deconstruction of narrative and medial conventions, a directorial strategy aiming to engage and stimulate the spectator sensorially, emotionally and cognitively. In fact, as Dundjerovic suggest, Lepage conceptualizes in Vinci “the form of performance narrative through the media technology” (2007: 59). Thus, out of all Lepage’s solos, Vinci engenders perhaps the most increased level of hypermediacy, an effect that comes not as much from the media incorporated in performance, but as a result of the frequent alternations of distance in 31

Direct reference is made here to the initial poem in the prologue of Vinci.

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spectatorship engendered by the medial switches and dislocations, and the quick, unexpected shifts between sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy, highlighting the later. The intermedial interrogation of the regime of the visual achieved through the quasi-continuous references to Renaissance, perspectival viewing, Leonardo da Vinci’s art, the notion of art as a paradox and the contradiction between the “head” and the “heart” – one of the perennial contradictions of the Western culture – situates visuality at the centre of this solo’s endeavor. Elements pertaining to the fields of painting, architecture, photography, film, shadow play and videoart are intermedially engaged in the exploration. Spectators are asked to embark on a theatrical journey in which their thinking about art and vision, their potential medial preconceptions and expectations of theatre are likely to be challenged and the passivity of a detached, sovereign, seemingly absent-minded spectatorial experience most-likely overthrown. In terms of directorial strategy, however, while retaining the focus on visuality, the aspiration towards increased medial seamlessness becomes both visible and a characteristic of Lepage’s later solos, as it will be discussed further on.

Needles and Opium In Needles and Opium (1991),32 Lepage creates an intricate world of interconnections between lost love, drug addiction, literature, film and music that “mixes the creative atmosphere of the forties and the fifties with contemporary life”(Dundjerovic 2007, 60). In terms of mediality, the provocative and openly explorative approach of Vinci is put aside in favor of a more seamless and sensuous, at times hypnotic, dive into a fictional stage reality, nevertheless construed intermedially, that aims to evoke a labyrinth of emotional dependency, which discreetly argues for the redeeming value of “artificial voyages of the mind” and the value of creativity in escaping the emotional maze (Dundjerovic 2007, 60). The reliance on intermedial effects – arguably more elaborated than in the first solo – has been commended by theatre reviewers from different parts of the world. Needles and Opium was labeled as a “theatrical masterpiece,” a work of “transparent complexity and beguiling beauty,” complementary to

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The initial version of the solo was performed in French. Its original French title is Les Aiguilles et L’Opium. According to the program of the first version, the solo piece was written, performed and designed by Robert Lepage, assisted on stage by Claude Lemay. For further production details see Appendix A.

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Lepage’s wider epics.33 Michael Coveney – The Observer’s critic – considered the solo “a chamber work marked by its absolute precision” (1992). New York Times reviewer Marc Gussow describes it as an astonishing and unique play that “embarks on a journey that is filled with indelible imagery and observations about Surrealism, existentialism and jazz” (1992). In sum, reviews signal the further exploration of theatre’s inherent mediality, whilst maintaining the focus on spectatorship. The solo is the only one to have made the object of a theatrical “revisitation” 22 years later.34 The 2013 version, however, is not technically, or otherwise, a solo. The main narrative thread is maintained, as well as the enhanced focus on visuality. Nevertheless, medial developments pertaining to the multiplication of technological possibilities in terms of mise-en-scene and added dramaturgical content related to the (iconic) main characters in the initial solo – Miles Davis, Juliette Greco and Jean Cocteau – allow for an extended exploration of their intertwined stories and, formally, propose different and novel/more immersive ways to achieve visual impact and, moreover, ensure relevant spectatorial experience. A new scenography, constituted by a revolving cube with three walled screens, two performers – Mark Labreche35 impersonating Cocteau and Lepage’s scenic alter-ego, and Wellesley Robertson III impersonating Davis –, plus additional excerpts from Cocteau’s diary – Opium, the Diary of a Cure (1930) –, additional visual material referencing Davis’ experience in Paris, and an an overall directorial strategy that enhances immersiveness, the impression of 3D film created live, turns the remake into a new show, mainly feeding on the “aura” of the initial solo. Reviews of the recent production are generally enthusiastic and focus on the innovative intermedial effects, their immersive and mesmerising qualities, highlighted in combination with the more intimate moments – evocative of the proximity of everyday life – and the effects of “theatrical illusionism“ that mark Lepage’s theatre work. Christian SaintPierre in “L'autre à travers soi” (2013) labels the show as a matured, 33

The collective original creations developed and toured internationally to that point (to which reviewers make reference) were: Circulations (1984), The Trilogy of Dragons (1985), The Polygraph (1987) and Tectonic plates (1988). 34 The new version of Needles and Opium premiered at Théâtre du Trident, Québec on 17 September 2013, toured nationally to Toronto (2013) and Montreal (2014), and internationally to Adelaide (Australia), Wellington (New Zealand) and Lyon (France) in 2014. In 2015, the performance toured nationally to Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto and Sherbrooke, and internationally to Le Havre, Le Mans and Nantes (France), to Madrid (Spain), Boston (US), Seoul (South Korea) and Tokyo (Japan). 35 The actor also replaced Lepage in the solo in 1993.

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deeper, more complex, and cubist version of the original Needles…. The director argues that, although it uses two actors, the remake remains a solo in spirit, a work about solitude, and highlights the personal need to revisit the original material in order to understand better his own autobiographical discourse. Returning to the original solo, according to Coveney the initial “Resource” of Needles and Opium (1991) was brought to surface by Lepage’s trip to Paris, while the voice-over for a film about Miles Davis in 1988. The experience of the city, combined with the Québécois director’s need to overcome the emotional trauma provoked by lost love, lead to the intention to explore, theatrically, the darker sources of creativity. Existing accounts do not highlight a particular material object as initial “Resource,” yet the performance, indirectly, suggests that photographic documentation pertaining to the romantic relationship between Miles Davis and Juliette Greco, encountered in passing by the director during his stay in Paris, might have contributed as a “Resource” to the initial articulation of the solo’s main theme. Other “Resources” used were – according to Bunzli – Cocteau’s text Letter to Americans, the French poet’s somewhat similar experience of intense emotional loss, his iconic and provocative, at the time, multi-handed portrait published on the cover of the Life magazine36 in 1949. A series of factual coincidences discovered by Lepage during the documentation period inform the narrative of the solo. In 1949, Cocteau flew to New York at the invitation of Life magazine, whilst still mourning the loss of his lover (French novelist Raymond Radiguet) and attempted to alleviate the unbearable emotional pain by using opium. Roughly at the same time, Miles Davis was developing a heroin addiction after a trip to Paris where he had a short, yet very intense affair of the heart with French singer Juliette Greco. Elements mentioned above were intertwined into the main narrative thread of the solo, which followed the sufferings of Robert – a young Québécois artist and Lepage’s scenic alter-ego – who arrived in Paris for business, checked into Hotel Louisianne, on the Left Bank, and incidentally was hosted into the room once occupied by Jean Paul Sartre and later by Juliette Greco and Davis, and, therefore, was caught-up into a series of vicarious emotional experiences related to Cocteau, Davis and French existentialists, in his desperate attempt to detoxify from love, after a failed long-term relationship. Developed through a series of intermedial flashbacks into the life of the two iconic artists – Cocteau and Davis – and intertwined with the protagonist’s moments of emotional self-obsession, the narrative of Needles and Opium plays with a multiplicity of places, 36

As it will be discussed bellow, the photo was staged intermedially and became one of the solo’s most representative theatrical images.

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époques, characters and facts, as well as media – i.e. film, music, literature, shadow play, animation, photography, painting, documentary film, text, acrobatics, light and intermedial trompe d’oeil effects, within the framing medium of theatre. The show premiered at Palais Montcalm in Québec-City, in 1991, and provoked a plethora of reactions. In terms of accolades, Needles and Opium was awarded the prize “La Biche” by Radio Canada, in 1991, and “Prize Floyd S. Chambers” for best Canadian play by the Council of Arts Ontario in 1995. It was also nominated for the “Laurence Olivier Prize for Outstanding Achievement” in London in 1993. Reviews were mixed at the beginning. Serge Drouin in “Les Aiguilles et l’Opium. Une technique étouffante”(1991) considered that Lepage was in danger to drown his talent into technical gadgetry and claimed that the audience felt suffocated by the technical aspects of the show. Ray Conlongue in “The Needle and the Damage Done” (1991) acknowledged a sketchy, unpolished quality, but stated that the show contained already “the most concentrated and imagistically focused work” done by Lepage so far. Robert Lévesque, however, in “Hôtel des influences” (1991) enthusiastically declared the solo as the most beautiful show made by Lepage since his debut, a fabulous “theatrical delirium” that was a “theatre of onirism and dereliction accomplished with solid means” and a highly aesthetic meeting on stage between cinema, theatre, poetry and gesture. The critic concluded that Needles and Opium was a “magical piece,” which prompted the reviewer to consider Lepage “very close to ideal theatre” (Lévesque 1991) and drew a parallel to Vinci, acknowledging a similarity in terms of dramaturgical construction, since, in both solos, Lepage, through his alter-egos, became the guide and the subject of the world explored. André Poulin in “Le Théâtre éclaté de Robert Lepage” (1991) observed that the new solo was both “brilliantly done” and confusing/challenging sensorially for the audience, a proof that Lepage’s talent had, nevertheless, matured meanwhile. According to the journalist, Lepage’s ideas were presented theatrically in a clearer, simpler, yet more effective manner. William Johnson, in “A Figure of Grace and Light. Lepage Shines in New Play” (1991) considered that to call Needles and Opium a “tour de force” would be an “understatement;” Lepage’s visual inventions were “spectacular, literally out of this world,” the performance caught constantly the audience’s interest and took them by surprise, transporting the spectators into a “world of surrealism where nothing remains ordinary.”

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Further on, throughout the extensive touring37 of the two versions (French and English) of the solo,38 reviewers from different parts of the world acknowledged, with similarly enthusiastic tone, yet described in discreetly different terms, the intermedial nature of the mise-en-scene proposed by Lepage and highlighted mixed focus on visuality and multisensorial experience in relation to spectatorship. The increased seamlessness of the narrative flow and the insertion of intermedial moments was also acknowledged and praised by the majority of reviewers. Dominique Lafon’s study “Les Aiguilles et l’Opium” (1992) recognizes difficulties in employing the traditional critical apparatus to discuss the complex visuality of the solo and its impact in terms of spectatorship. Lafon maintains that: “Robert Lepage convie le spectateur, le laissant à la fin du spectacle aussi impressionné que démuni par cette série ininterrompue d’images qui lui échappent pour se renouveler sans cesse” (1992, 85-86).39 The scholar observes – however – that the monologues of the show, built on storytelling improvisational techniques, are the weaker parts of the solo, while the visual narrative provides all the necessary information for the spectator.40 Jeanne Bouvet in “Robert Lepage: l’homme dans l’oeuvre” (1992) acknowledges a certain didactic “heaviness” of the performance, pertaining to the multitude of citations and cultural references of musical, cinematographic, or literary nature, that seem incompatible – in the scholar’s opinion – with the surrealist spirit of the performance (101). Christopher Innes in “Puppets and Machines of the Mind: Robert Lepage and the Modernist Heritage” (2005) recognizes the critical importance of the spectator in the construction of the show in the sense that: “[t]he weight of communication is thrown onto the non-verbal language of action, requiring imaginative participation” on the side of the spectator (128). In conclusion, reviews and studies recurrently highlight the complexity and visual poignancy of the solo, perceived as more sophisticated, from a combined medial and directorial perspective than 37

For details of touring see Appendix A. It has to be noted that a second main version, with noted Canadian film and theatre actor Marc Labréche replacing Lepage, premiered at Edison Theatre in St. Louis on 19 January 1996. The replacement was made to accommodate the director’s busy professional agenda and the ongoing requests for touring the solo coming from the Western theatre network. 39 In English: “Robert Lepage incites the viewer, leaving him/her, at the end of the show, both impressed and disarmed by this uninterrupted series of images that escape him/her, just in order to renew themselves incessantly” (author’s trans.). 40 The images vehiculated by language are only clichés, averagely graphic, considers the scholar (Lafon 1992, 86). 38

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Vinci, and praise its multi-sensorial impact on spectatorship, while recognizing certain limits regarding the dramaturgy. The set-design in Needles and Opium follows a similar pattern to the one in Vinci. A black-box space functions initially as an apparently neutral scenic space, not betraying anything of what the show has to offer in terms of medial effects. The stage floor has a chequered pattern that becomes apparent through stage lighting only in the scenes that take place in the hotel room. The screen, positioned centrally, creates a discrete hybrid sensation in between the theatrical and the cinematic, which will be highlighted, in terms of spectatorship, as the solo unfolds. Compared to the scenic space in Vinci, the stage here is wider in terms of aperture, the screen bigger and occupying a more visible position, both in the economy of the scenic apparatus and the solo’s dramaturgy. The size of the screen is increased, its texture is discreetly elastic and supported by a mechanism that offers several possibilities for moving up and down, tilt, swivel and rotate. Through its use in performance – as support for slide projections, filmic footage, shadow play, or as an opaque surface, as the wall of the hotel room – the screen tends to become not only the central element of the set and, occasionally, a key prop, but one of the main performers. Throughout the solo, it becomes the meeting place between the virtual – the imaginary and the “filmic” – and the reality of the solo, with the live actor either playing against or with it, via live projections and/or shadow play. In other words, the screen becomes the main site for the hybridizations and/or superimpositions for the live and mediatized elements in performance. The scenic space is completed, occasionally, with prop and set elements that suggest a hotel room (i.e. a chair, a bulb hanging from the ceiling, a telephone, bed-sheets and a pillow), or an airplane cabin (a pair of ventilators on the sides to suggest airplane propellers), yet it contains also the possibility to become a metaphorical, abstract space (via a swivel-jointed trapeze harness attached, at times, to the performer’s costume) and, thus, contribute to the gravitational game between the actor and the screen, which takes further the narrative of the solo in several instances. Light and sound are designed mainly to contribute to the enhancement of atmosphere and the development of the intermedial narrative on stage. Differently coloured light gels are used to highlight the emotional charge of scenes, to perform additional filmic effects, or to highlight metaphorically particular themes – i.e. the rose-like gel stands, throughout the show, for intense passion. Moreover, light is carefully designed to support the visual trompe d’oeil effects of the solo, as well as the projections and the shadow play. The sound design – as in Vinci – makes

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use of a high-definition microphone. This is employed predominantly during Robert’s monologues, to capture the nuances of the actor’s performance, thus reminding of naturalistic filmic conventions, and to enhance sensations of intimacy, facilitating emotional proximity for the spectators. The sound score comprises street and hotel nightlife ambiance that increase, in filmic manner, the impression of authenticity and proximity of the locations evoked by the narrative. It also highlights the original excerpts from the score composed by Miles Davis for Louis Malle’s movie L’Ascenseur pour l’Echafaud (1958). Davis’ music – repetitive, haunting and sensuous – occupies a rather central role in the narrative construction of the solo and stands in for its creator. Davis is, thus, pertinently evoked either through his music or through minute shadow-play details, never impersonated. Therefore – to speak with Bouvet –, from a material point of view, whilst Vinci relied on relatively simpler technological resources and performed medial effects developed with the technology at sight, Needles and Opium tends to rely on a scenic apparatus not only more complex, but rather constraining, with a “pivoting screen, suspensions, ventilators, and their synchronization on stage” (1992, 100). According to the final version of script,41 Needles and Opium is divided in 21 scenes as follows: (1) “L’Acupuncture,” (2) “Prologue avion,” (3) “Film le dessin qui s’efface,” (4) “Chambre #9,” (5) “Cool,” (6) “New-York ville debout,” (7) “Rencontre Juliette et Miles,” (8) “Chambre #9 3hrs du matin,” (9) “Autoportrait,” (10) “Life,” (11) “Miles traverse l’Atlantique,” (12) “L’Hypnose,” (13) “Vol de nuit,” (14) “L’opium,” (15) “Smack,” (16) “Michel-Ange,” (17) “Ascenseur pour l'échafaud,” (18) “L’Age de raison,” (19) “Chambre inverse,” (20) “Le miroir brisé” and (21) “La Lettre.”42 41

Ex Machina retains in their archives only the French version of Needles and Opium, considered by Lepage the final version. Therefore the names of scenes are there listed in French. In English translations they are as follows: (1) “Acupuncture,” (2) “Prologue Airplane,” (3) “Film - The Drawing that Disappears,” (4) “Room # 9,” (5) “Cool,” (6) “New-York City Awaken,” (7) “Meeting: Juliette and Miles,” (8) “Room # 9, 3.00 am in the morning,” (9) “SelfPortrait,” (10) “Life,” (11) “Miles Crosses the Atlantic,” (12) “Hypnosis,” (13) “Night Flight,” (14) “Opium,” (15) “Smack,” (16) “Michelangelo,” (17) “Ascenseur pour l'échafaud,” (18) “The Age of Reason,” (19) “Reverse Room,” (20) “Broken Mirror” and (21) “The Letter.” (author’s trans.) 42 Scenes 18 to 21 are switched in the final version of the script, compared to the official video recording. Therefore, the present analysis will take into account this aspect and discuss the scenes in the order provided by the official recording, due to the lack of sufficiently detailed information contained in the script with regards

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As in Vinci, the solo opens with an intermedial moment: “L’Acupuncture“. The image of a galaxy of stars is projected centrally on screen. On Miles Davis’ music, the performer’s head appears live, above the screen, superimposed as in a split-screen effect. He addresses the audience directly and starts by offering a quasi-scientific preamble on the use of acupuncture in the treatment of pain, then digresses on matters related to the infliction of needles onto the 12 meridians and 653 points of acupuncture in the body, the accidental discovery of acupuncture as an effective health therapy, which, paradoxically, used to be, also, a wellknown Chinese torture centuries prior to the discovery. The combination of visually projected and verbally narrated images, and the superimposition of the live body on the mediatized screen imagery are meant to create a powerful intermedial effect right from the start. An analogy is built between the celestial and human bodies, where stars and points of acupuncture become gates of entrance for pain and healing, at the same time. The pseudo-lecture on acupuncture, with its detached, factual tone, and the superimposition of images, prepares the ground for the gradual exposition of Robert’s own inner world, filled as it is with the anxiety caused by lost love. Whilst Robert’s trip to Paris is contextualized via speech,43 the screen lowers and the upper half of the performer’s body is revealed as he starts putting on costume to impersonate Cocteau, the performer preparing at sight for the following scene. The movement of the screen throughout the scene, fragmenting the performer’s body, in combination with the light focused exclusively on specific parts of the body, reminds of filmic close-ups, staged with theatrical means. A secondary, discreet intermedial effect is, thus, performed upon the spectator throughout the scene, contributing to an impression of hybridity that is both medial and thematic. The second scene – “Prologue Avion” – provides a switch of rhythm and atmosphere. The screen folds downwards completely and reveals the performer suspended in the air, like a puppet, the harness hidden by the costume. Flanked on the sides by two big ventilators standing in for the airplane propellers, Lepage impersonates Cocteau reciting the Letter to to the visual transitions from a scene to another, including the visual effects that might have occurred in the final configuration. However, the numbering and the title of the scenes will be kept, according to the official script in French. 43 The monologue introduces two of the main “Resources” of the show: Miles Davis’s sountrack for Ascenseur pour l'échafaud and Cocteau’s Letter to Americans. From the latter, excerpts are intertwined with the main narrative, focused on acupuncture, pain and healing, only to conclude that traditional medicine techniques and travel are the paleatives for Robert’s pain.

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Americans, supported by computer enhanced musical background reminding of Chinese healing music. The light design focuses mainly on the body of the performer and, with much less intensity, on the two propellers, separating the three elements from the rest of the scenic space, which remains in the dark. Thus, a hybrid impression of the character floating into space – as if defying gravity – is performed on spectatorial perception, whilst through the narrative we find out that he is travelling by plane. At the end of the scene, another hybrid, contradictory image is performed through a mixture of stage machinery, acrobatic movement, verbal imagery, light and sound effects. As Cocteau concludes his speech, evocative of the strangeness of memory – “Voyez vous, les souvenirs bougent comme des herbes sous-marines et, chaque fois qu’il se touchent, il prennent d’autres directions” (Lepage [n.d.], 4)44 –, the lights slowly fade to dark during the performer’s ethereal 360° backward rotation in the air, while the screen simultaneously resumes its vertical position and the music increases in intensity before cross-fading to another track that introduces the following scene. The transition is intermedial in itself, with an obvious cinematic end, performed via stage machinery, and transports the spectator from one fictional space of the solo into another. Scene 3 – “Film, le dessin qui s’efface” – evokes, through visual and aural superimposition, Miles Davis’ unhappy love story. The soundtrack composed by the American musician for Ascenseur pour l'échafaud, which creates, in itself, a vividly haunting and vintage aural landscape, is superimposed in perception with the video projection of a 16 mm film, in “home-made” style, showing two hands putting on gloves and gradually effacing a portrait with a pencil, an action played in reverse. The image is located centrally on the screen, but has a significantly smaller size than the screen itself, like a vignette, adding to the aura of the entire moment. Simultaneously, the credits of the solo start rolling on the lower part of the screen.45 Thus, the video projection in vignette of the “home-made” film brings in an additional aura of “vintage” to the story of Davis and, through its association with the credits of the solo, symbolically frames the performance. In terms of spectatorial perception, the cinematic takes precedence here, due to elements highlighted above, yet it does not overthrow the main medium, but rather creates the impression of medial in-between-ness. Although there is no live performance or speech in the 44 In English: “You see, the memories move like underwater grass and whenever are touched, they take another direction” (author’s trans.). 45 It is for the first time in a solo performance that Lepage introduces the credits as cinematic convention; they will become present in all original performances further on, with no exception, and constitute part of his directorial signature.

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scene, the text that constitutes the solo’s credits is incorporated by visual means only, the superimposition of visual and aural images, albeit cinematic in their nature, through the associations they suggest, remain integrated within the frame of theatre in terms of spectatorial perception. Once the cinematic, almost ghostly, atmosphere has been established and the sensation of intimacy engendered, the next scene – “Chambre #9” – brings in the first hotel room moment. Robert tries desperately to reach his ex-lover by obstinately attempting a long-distance call to Canada. The humorous naturalism of the scene is conveyed through the discrete combination/intertwining of two foci in discourse and style. In first instance there is a “stand-up” type of comedic speech, directly addressed to the audience, in which the main character evokes the world of unhappy coincidences he has dived into.46 Secondly, an increasingly frustrating dialogue, performed in filmic naturalistic manner, takes place over the phone with the long distance operator. The second narrative theme is brought to the forefront at different times and intermingles gradually with the initial speech/theme, until it takes over the scene. However, the impression of authenticity acquired overall refers rather to cinematic conventions than theatrical ones, as Lepage performs the entire with reserved desperation, his voice discreetly amplified by the microphone.47 The coordinates of distance in spectatorship are unobtrusively, yet quasicontinuously re-established through the interweaving of cinematic and theatrical undertones. The following hotel room scenes, intertwined with the highly visual and intricate narrative of the solo, will have the same rebalancing role, from the point of view of the mise-en-scene, restoring the precedence of the theatrical, with the discrete use of cinematic narrative and performing conventions. Scene number 5 – “Cool” – is entirely performed via shadow-play, on Davis’ music – a basic bass rhythm that builds up dramatic suspense. At the end of the previous scene, the performer had switched off, at sight, by pulling of a cord, the light bulb in the hotel room. After a short blackout meant to punctuate the completion of the discourse and to create anticipation, the magnified shadows of the constitutive parts of a trumpet, 46

As mentioned before, Robert (ironically!) is hosted in room number 9 at Hotel La Louisianne, which, according to the script, was the room where Sartre wrote The Nausea (1938) and where, later on, Juliette Greco lived before becoming a famous singer. 47 As in the case of Vinci, the cinematic impression of reality, of authenticity is enhanced in subtle yet effective ways through the use of a HD portable microphone attached to the costume of the performer, and designed to capture the slightest speech nuances and emotional undertones of the monologues.

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assembled visually in a way to compose the word “cool” are retroprojected on the screen. On this magnified image, the silhouette of the performer is superimposed, standing in front of the screen for a few moments. Then, the screen revolves and lets the performer pass behind it, thus gaining access symbolically to the world beyond the “visible.” The body disappears into the stage darkness and, a moment later, the spectator sees, in silhouette, a magnified pair of hands re-assembling the parts of the trumpet used to “write” the word “COOL” into the trumpet itself; all on the slow, cumulative rhythm of Davis’ music. Throughout this highly imaginative and somewhat ghostly yet playfully transformative theatrical moment, the size of the shadows gradually alters to the point to which the shadow of the trumpet overcomes the limits of the screen. The optical illusion performed live is (obviously) meant to interrogate visual perception, both thematically and sensorially, and to further the narrative in a symbolic manner. The over-layering of narrative elements that recompose, with simple yet unexpected means, Miles Davis’ iconic image as “the man with the trumpet” also brings forward questions related to the reliability of visual perception. The sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy are combined here in spectatorial perception. The spectator is aware of the fact that this is a visual illusion, as it is performed at sight, yet the eye becomes immersed into the image, almost “swimming into it.” At the very moment where this particular hybrid convention is established, the retro-projection gives way to frontal projection and the image of a black vinyl record on which the words “Capitol” (the famous music company) and musical credits written in white appears spinning, while the music morphs into a more elaborated, fast-paced piece, bearing Davis’ signature as well. The screen revolves again and lets the performer reappear. The visual illusion is, thus, de-constructed at sight, in front of the spectator, and a blackout transition ensues, to provide time for absorbing the sensorial overload. Scene no 6 – “New York ville debout” – starts with the performer, now as Cocteau, suspended in the air as if standing on top of the screen on which the magnified image of the spinning record is projected, talks enthusiastically about New York, an “open city that never sleeps.” The juxtaposition of “live” and “mediatized” reminds of split-screen cinematic conventions, yet it is realized intermedially within the framework of theatre. The image performed contains also another hybridization. With the upper half a theatre monologue presented live and the lower half a mediatized video image projected, the stage becomes a theatre screen, in terms of perception. The play with dimensions and optical illusions, engendered in the previous scene, is taken here further. The body of the

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performer, still suspended in the air, moves in front of the screen and superimposes itself on the vinyl record image as if standing on top of it. A cinematic “bird’s eye” perspective, of hypnotic quality due to the continuous spinning of the record and the mixture of live and mediatized, is offered for the spectator. The trompe l’oeil performed makes Lepage, as he appears to “stand on top” of the record image for a few moments and delivers parts of the enthusiastic speech about New York, to appear smaller than the record itself. Then, at the moment when the night in NY is verbally evoked, the screen revolves behind the actor’s body, performing live a filmic “page-turn” effect followed by another, even more dynamic image, a vertical travelling close-up of a New York sky-scrapper at night. The vertical travelling shows an upward camera movement, while the performer’s bodily movements in the air suggest slow climbing. Thus, the image construed on stage provides a surreal sensation. The superimpositions of the “live” and “mediatized” and Lepage’s slow motion movements remind the spectator of thriller film conventions, performed live, within the framework of theatre. The climactic moment of the scene – the free fall provoked by the word “vertige” in Cocteau’s speech – takes further the intermedial moment by providing an additional element of surprise. Suddenly, the buildings appear to “fly upwards” and the performer, hanging head down in front of the stage, twisting and turning like a falling body, seems to be “plunging to his death” before our eyes. The optical illusions performed throughout the entire scene, construed by juxtapositions or superimpositions of theatrical, acrobatic and filmic conventions and realized with combined inter- and multi-medial means, in various mixtures of the “live” and “mediatized,” are overtly designed to create an unsettling, mesmerizing effect upon the spectator. The cinematic and optic illusions are constructed at sight, yet the dynamic and hybrid mediality of the scene corroborates, once again, in a different way, the opposite sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy in terms of spectatorship. On the one hand, the intermedial configurations proposed create an apparent and powerful impression of the cinematic. Yet the bodily presence of the actor, with its materiality, as well the manipulation of the scenic apparatus (that leaves the technology partially at sight) retain the medium of theatre as the framing medium and inscribe it in spectatorial perception, in spite of, and alongside the powerful cinematic conventions. A merging of mediatic realms, a powerful sensation of medial in-between-ness is achieved here and the result is a strong and unexpected intermedial effect that alters spectatorship, as signalled by critiques and studies.

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Scene 7 – “Rencontre Juliette et Miles” – is a combination of filmic projection and shadow-play, using as aural support Juliette Greco’s love song Je suis comme je suis (1951). Greco’s character is firstly introduced through documentary footage in 16 mm film format, via a reduced size projection in vignette, with close-up details of her facial profile. Then the meeting between Greco and Davis ensues, staged entirely through means of shadow-play and retro-projection, and following the intermedial convention established in Scene 5, to which a rose filter for the retroprojector’s light is added, to enhance the romantic atmosphere. On screen, magnified details of stereotypical objects evoking moments of an amorous dinner encounter 48 become visible, manipulated by two pairs of hands, which spectators are invited to imagine they belong to the two lovers. The series of images are construed and performed live, reminding of detailed close-up filmic framing and making use, again, of the “bird’s eye” perspective. Both cinematic conventions are used to create the sensation of visual closeness and intimacy, whilst offering the illusion of complete visual control over the situation. The narrative is, thus, furthered exclusively through the metonymic image of the two pairs of hands that flirt, discuss, and meet lovingly above the dinner table. At the end of the romantic moment, objects are suddenly removed. A map of Paris is frontally projected in vignette while a hand, in shadow play, moves a set of keys along the map, to suggest the two lovers driving off in a car. The short yet intense love affair between Greco and Davis is thus narrated in a minimalist and rather playful, light-hearted way, providing, through the use of clichés and stereotypes, the support for the real projection of action to happen in the imagination of the spectators. The intimacy of the moment is enhanced by the aural support of Greco’s love song (mentioned above), the cinematic atmosphere created by dim stage lighting and the coloured gel for the retro-projector light. In scene 8 – “Chambre #9 3hrs du matin” – the narrative switches back to Robert’s room. The scene commences with intense noises coming from next door, suggested aurally by amplified (and echoed) sounds of lovemaking and visually by the chimeric rotation of a human body behind the elastic lycra screen, perceived live as if attempting to pierce the texture and, therefore, symbolically invading Robert’s mind. Sounds and movement increase to imply sexual climax. The screen then quickly swivels, letting the spectator see the performer as Robert, in his underwear, annoyed that he cannot sleep in the middle of the night because of the invasive love-making noises from next door, which only add to his 48

The objects used are: a soup plate, a spoon, an ashtray, a cigarette and two halffull glasses of wine.

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already intense state of emotional turmoil. Attempting to find a solution to this anxiety and the escalating frustration, Robert has a funny-desperate dialogue – again, over the phone – with the hotel’s receptionist, but no solution is found. Unable to sleep, he decides to take a picture of himself, using a Polaroid camera.49 This does not bring much relief either. Then has a long-distance phone conversation with his ex-lover. Scene 9 – “Autoportrait” – takes further the theme of photography by switching again to the cinematic mode, through a vignette size video projection that shows the development process of the Polaroid snapshot just taken by Robert. The medium of photography is briefly explored thematically as the mirror that has the ability to return to the character almost instantly the image of emotional torment, to reveal it, thus aiming to discreetly induce further emotional identification in terms of spectatorship. Scene 10 – ”Life” – brings the narrative back to Cocteau, this time travelling to New York by airplane. The two ventilators as airplane propellers appear again on the sides of the screen, while on the screen, below the performer, the word “LIFE” is projected, in reference to the title of the magazine for which Cocteau wrote the famous text amply quoted by the solo. The slightly lowered positioning of the screen reminds of traditional puppet theatre staging conventions. Above the screen, the performer, live, re-enacts the famous four handed-picture of Cocteau published on the cover of the same Life magazine, while on the screen below a black and white animation presents the acupuncture points of the hand. The theatrical and the animated images, juxtaposed again in a splitscreen configuration, construct a third image that is multi- and intermedial at the same time. Multi-medial because the two main media presented here are perceived as distinct by the spectator and intermedial because the juxtaposition performed through this split-screen image creates a third image that furthers the narrative at symbolic levels and brings again forward the sensation of medial hybridity, of in-between-ness, unsettling perception. It is worth noting that both parts that construe the third image deal with notions of animation, the upper half in a live manner, the lower half recorded, while bringing again to spectatorial attention the notions of pain, healing and alternative treatment introduced at the beginning of the solo. Aurally, a further hybridization of the “live” and “mediatized” is performed through the superimposition of recorded Chinese healing music 49

The theme of photography is situated in direct connection to notions of selfknowledge and “truth” in Needles and Opium, as it was in Vinci. Yet this time the technological details left at sight for the spectator are slightly different, as described above.

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and Cocteau’s speech, spoken live, adding to the overall intermedial effect in spectatorship, with both the aural and the visual contributing to the construction of the narrative and formally engendering the sensation of medial “in-between-ness.” The scene ends with the actor’s “disappearance” into the dark, whilst on the screen now lifted to resume its central position Cocteau’s famous four-handed picture appears again, this time as a projected slide, a memento of the past that should remain inscribed in the memory of the spectator, as quintessential to the construction of the solo. Scene 11 – “Miles traverse L’Atlantique” – proposes another type of split-screen juxtaposition, of live theatrical image and filmic projection, and creates a visual illusion enhanced aurally by Davis’ sensual jazz music. On the screen a blue and black filmic projection shows a male body diving into water, swimming its way to the surface, then again diving a second time while playing the trumpet underwater – air bubbles come out of the trumpet’s horn – and then, while holding the instrument in his hand, swimming his way rightwards until he disappears from sight. Above the screen, occasionally, the upper part of the live actor’s body, holding the trumpet, is shown, in logical sync with the projection. The juxtaposition of live and mediatized performed here creates the momentarily illusion that the filmed and the live body are one, yet the spectator is aware, all the time, that this is a scenic illusion seamlessly construed at sight. The scene aims, thus, to narrate metaphorically – through visual and highly sensual means – Davis’ intense sadness and loneliness upon his return to the Unites States, right after the affair of the heart with Greco in Paris. The effect accomplished through the intermedial superimposition of the live performance and video projected images enhances the sensation of immediacy and emotional proximity almost to the point of immersiveness, inviting the spectator to “dive” into the intense sensuality of the moment. Scene 12 – “L’Hypnose” – brings a radical switch of atmosphere and pace via a long, digressive monologue delivered in discrete stand-up comedy manner and tackling, in interconnection, subjects such as: Québécois politics, theatre, hypnosis, hell, Orpheus and emotional detoxification. While addressing the audience, Robert talks in fact, according to the narrative, to a therapist specialized in hypnosis. Theatrical conventions are reinforced throughout the entire scene through direct address and the dramatic text; the traditional distance in theatrical spectatorship seems almost re-established. However, Lepage’s position, sat centre-stage on a chair suspended in the air, in front of the screen, and discreetly lit from behind, highlights the presence of the technological apparatus used to perform the previous intermedial moments, slightly

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unsettling the above mentioned theatrical distance and preparing the audience for what is to come. At the end of the scene, during the final lines of the monologue, in which the gates of hell are evoked, Lepage starts rotating in the air in slow motion. The image of the body revolving live is superimposed on a spiralling retro-projected video image that appears to increase its movement dynamic. Lepage stops for one moment, his feet almost touch the centre of the spiral and his body positioned horizontally performs a “bird’s eye” perspective, which suggest, metaphorically, a character caught-up in the centre of its own turmoil. Then he turns upside down completely and, while suspended in the air, releases the chair, turns to the side and starts to spiral his body in the opposite direction, at an increasing pace. The spiralled image fades out and a blurry close-up image of a ventilator spinning in full force fades in. The intermedial image performed creates a sensation of vertigo that will increase in intensity in the following scene, illustrating metaphorically, and with predominantly visual means, the emotional vertigo of the character.

Figure 4-2. Emotional vertigo materialised.

Scene 13 – “Vol de nuit” – blends in seamlessly. The performer keeps rotating until his body, gradually and in slow-motion reaches a foetal position. He remains, thus, suspended in the dark for a while, with his head

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upside down, “floating in the air,” above a source of light that becomes increasingly visible on the floor, centre-stage. The entire moment – an intermedial superimposition of acrobatic stage movement and recorded video projection – is paced and enhanced atmospherically by Eric Satie’s repetitive, soothing music.50 The narrative of the solo is, thus, taken further exclusively through medial interplay – film projection, live stage action, light and music –, and the narrative references and associations of symbolic nature are meant to provide the spectator with a multi-sensorial, vicariously immersive experience of the emotional pain experienced by the character(s) evoked. The ambiguity of the visual narrative suggests that inner turmoil was experienced by Robert (the protagonist) as well as Cocteau, perhaps even Davis, and, by extension, it is a general human experience that takes place throughout the period of “detoxification” from love. Scene 14 – “L’Opium” – reintroduces Cocteau, now in Robert’s hotel room, lit in chiaroscuro manner. The French poet talks about opium and its strange yet healing effects. The performer is seated on a chair in front of what appears to be a dead body wrapped in bed-sheets. A symbolic hybridization/superimposition is suggested, at diegetic level, between the two characters: Cocteau looking at the “body” of his dead lover Raymond reminds us of Robert looking at the body of his dead love. The visual and verbal imagery of the monologue bring a sensation of emotional heaviness, enhanced by the aural support of church-bell music. Cocteau’s recollection of the death of his lover is accompanied by a change in stage lights colour – the stage is now immersed in pink light – and the appearance, behind the performer, of seemingly truncated body parts imprinted against the elastic screen, which, through their slow movement, create a nightmarish lasting effect. Cocteau’s evocation of his lost lover (an evocation of Robert’s lost love, by analogy) is accomplished with intermedial means designed to impact sensorially first and foremost, citing, with the use of theatrical means, discrete, yet effective filmic conventions pertaining to the thriller genre. At the end of the scene the performer takes his chair and, in slow motion, attempts to pass through the screen, in this instance connoted diegetically with memory. The screen then engulfs the performer’s body almost entirely and starts swivelling, making the body disappear from sight, while stage lights fade slowly to complete blackout. Scene 15 – “Smack” – describes through shadow-play, using narrative and immersive medial conventions as in Scenes 5 and 7, Davis’ heroine 50 The musical excerpt belongs to the cycle Gymnopedie (1888-1897) arguably composed (in first instance) for therapeutic purposes, as a treatment against neurosis.

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habit. A pair of hands and a set of objects used in the drug preparation ritual, from the moment of buying until the moment of injecting the drug, perform in shadow-play against a red light, and with the aural support of slow, soothing jazz piano music bearing Davis’ signature. The actor appears in silhouette (behind the screen) to perform a trompe l’oeil effect that narrates visually the strange alterations in perception induced by the drug. By extension, the moment engages thematically with the wider notion of human perception, highlighting its illusory nature. A huge syringe in silhouette is seen, injecting the drug in the arm of what appears to be a much smaller body, nevertheless of realistic proportions in relation to human dimensions. Visual proportions are symbolically manipulated, distorted, to provoke, for the spectator, a potentially kinaesthetic unsettling of perception, similar to the one presumably experienced by the character. This rather disquieting effect is activated mainly through visual means, the most distancing of all senses. The music is used here only for discrete atmosphere enhancement, with no additional narrative references. The moment is slowly paced; giving the spectator time to absorb sensorially what he sees on stage and fully engage with the experience of the theatrical image performed. The screen then revolves and the performer’s body rolls slowly on the floor, resuming centre-stage. Scene 16 – “Michel-Ange” – brings us again to Robert’s hotel room, at night, with the phone incessantly ringing to finally awaken him. While on the phone, the protagonist recalls a bizarre call received previously from somebody unknown who, strangely enough, insisted to talk to Sartre. He remembers having to end-up the conversation by “taking a message for Sartre,” a message that turned out to be a long, discursive interpretation of Michelangelo’s fresco at the Vatican. The fresco cited becomes, thus, a pretext for a series of analogies that interweave – in monologue delivered in performance lecture manner – themes such as: the body, hypnosis and religion. All verbal analogies are illustrated visually, with slides projected onto the background screen. A series of photographic details of God’s Creation of Adam (1511-1512) by Michelangelo are first displayed through slide projection and then morph slowly and seamlessly into a drawing of the human brain. The discrete intermediality played here refers to the mirroring effect construed between the bodily position of the actor, while looking at Michelangelo’s Adam, and the details projected on screen. The screen becomes now a reflecting mirror, facilitating a “dialogue” between the body of the performer and the body on the screen, first painted, then photographed, then projected, stimulating associative impressions and additional symbolic meanings. The themes of narcissism and of the holistic approach upon the human being are tackled

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contrapuntally. They also provide a diegetic step forward in the theatrical journey proposed by the solo. At the end of the scene, the performer rolls over behind the screen and disappears from sight. Scene 17 – “Ascenseur pour l’échafaud” – resumes the cinematic precedence in terms of spectatorial perception. Through a projection in vignette of edited excerpts from Louis Malle’s Ascenseur pour l’échafaud, telling a story of love with unhappy ending, on which filmed images of Cocteau’s Letter to Americans manuscript are superimposed at particular times, and with the addition of rose pink stage light projected onto the screen, to underline the theme of love and remind us of the protagonist’s own love pangs, the narrative is taken further, with added symbolic and sensorial levels. The haunting musical leitmotiv of the film bearing, of course, Davis’s signature and played on trumpet provides the aural support. The three stories of love and loss are, thus, intertwined and symbolically integrated into the narrative as one story with multiple facets. The intermedial effect performed here – combining film and theatre and music – sustains the dramatic crescendo of the scene and supports the development of associative symbolic meanings for the spectator. The music gradually “fills in” the space as it continues to play, as if in echo, even during the blackout transitions, providing the connection to the next scene. Scene 21 – “La lettre” – blends in quickly. The screen rotates slowly upwards and becomes the ceiling above Robert’s head. The protagonist is seated at a table, with a piece of paper in front of him. Around the table, several chairs one on top of the other offer a revelation of the backstage and of the scenic apparatus involved in the performance. The music slowly fades out. Robert/Lepage comes to the forefront and, with a reserved, underplayed tone, reads a “goodbye letter” to his ex-lover. Apparently written as the result of the painful excursion into the labyrinth of emotional pain, the letter is read and then torn to pieces. The performer/protagonist lies on the floor face down while the stage fades into darkness. The scene is intensely dramatic. Deployed as it is of any visual or intermedial effects, the moment highlights the material presence of the apparatus that made all the effects possible throughout performance. This seems to be the cathartic moment of the solo and the logical ending of the story told, the usual completion of the journey, where a conclusion is drawn, according to traditional theatre narrative. However, the performance continues to unfold after a long moment of blackout, shifting again the weight of solo towards its inter- and multi-medial aspects. In Scene 19 – “Danse Aeriene” – Robert is lifted high in the air, the performer again suspended in the harness, while the stage is gradually

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filled with smoke and the screen tilts resuming its initial position, in Scene 1. The scene narrates metaphorically and through associative suggestions the protagonist’s final liberation from the emotionally restraining experience. Its highly visual focus means yet another perceptual switch, discreetly reconfiguring spectatorial distance towards enhanced visuality, achieved with live stage means only. Scene 18 – “L’age du raison” – blends in seamlessly and quickly. The performer suspended high in the air, facing the audience in a vertical position and flanked by the two ventilators standing in as airplane propellers, delivers on a prophetic tone the final paragraphs of Cocteau’s Letter to Americans. Textual references are made to the coming of a new age of reason, where dreams will be controlled and acts of dreaming will be punished. The dim, diffuse stage lighting reveals only the upper half of the performer’s body, while underneath him, on the screen, re-set as in Scenes 2 and 12, still images of stars and then a of a lyre reminding of the myth of Orpheus are projected. The musical score supporting the scene throughout resembles also the score used at the beginning of the solo. The split-screen “live”- “mediatized” convention is used here, again, to advance the narrative towards its conclusion, and to illustrate the liberation of the protagonist from the entanglements of emotional pain. In terms of spectatorship, the alteration of distance follows a gradual pattern towards a more diversified hybridization of sensations, therefore situating perception in a state of quasi-continuous re-configuration. Scene 20 – “Le miroir brisé” – reinstates, one last time, the cinematic precedence in terms of spectatorial perception. Another intermedial moment is performed, staged through the combination of the frontal projection, of blank (black and white) film and shadow- play, both superimposed on the same screening surface. A silhouette appears, with a trumpet in its hand, lifts slowly the instrument, as if it was a weapon, then lowers it and aims towards the audience. A shot is heard quite prominently (due to sound amplification), whilst visually we are given the impression that a glass/mirror has been violently broken into pieces. Behind the screen/mirror stands the performer, apparently live, as Cocteau, staring at the audience. Only a few seconds later the sound of glass/mirror breaking is heard again, with similar prominence. Cocteau appears to breaks into pieces; we now realise it was only a recorded image; a filmic mirrored reflection of the live actor, and then the image turns to black. The poignant and unexpected trompe l’oeil effect is construed through an intermedial combination of aural effects, shadow-play movement, and film footage, all paced and synchronized impeccably. The intermedial image performed bears several levels of interpretation pertaining to the narrative and the

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various thematic levels of the show, including the interrogation of theatre’s mediality and the unreliability of human perception. Questions related to the human need for mirroring and identification via different media, the illusory and subjective nature of perception and the possibility of simultaneous and equally valid multiple perspectives, or interpretations for what is experienced through the senses, all recurrent throughout the solo, converge in this very instance in the intermedial effect described above. At a formal level, the effect masterfully highlights the particular combination and/or alternation of immediacy and hypermediacy that characterizes Lepage’s mise-en-scene strategy in general. The final scene provides an ultimate change in the perspective of “seeing” proposed thematically by the solo, framing symbolically the entire experience as one of medial in-between-ness. The chequered floor pattern becomes now an image projected fully on the screen, in front of which the performer is suspended with his head down. His slow movements create the impression of a body attempting to morph into the floor. The cinematic “bird’s eye” perspective is staged again, live and with theatrical means, yet in a completely different manner. While the shape described by the performer’s body moving changes slowly and hypnotically, the chequered image of the floor morphs briefly into the image of a spiral, only to then resume its chequered pattern, whilst the actor remains suspended head down as if “glued” to the floor of the hotel room, seen from above. The aural support of the scene underscores the cinematic impression/illusion reminding of the dramatic, atmospheric music in films with sad endings. Stage lights very slowly fade to black and then, to complete the cinematic convention, the word “Fin” (or “End,” in the English version) appears on the screen. The actual ending of the solo, thus, inclines discreetly the balance towards the cinematic, while provoking a lingering sensation of a somewhat ghostly identification with the protagonist. The overall intermedial nature of the final image is meant to remain inscribed in spectatorial perception, creating a paradoxical involved yet remote impact in terms of spectatorial experience. In conclusion, the main elements and strategies of medial exploration present in Vinci can be recognized in Needles and Opium. In addition, the performance narrative developed to rely “predominantly on metaphorical storytelling” (Dundjerovich 2007, 64) finds, arguably, more intimate and sensuous pathways to integrate autobiographical and “personal mythology” elements pertaining to the two cultural icons and the director himself and, through its imagery, proposes a “vertical connection” that “opens up to a metaphorical representation of human existence, moving from the apparent to the hidden” (2007, 64). The effect of the intermedial

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mise-en-scene proposed by the solo still retains elements of the paradox and interrogates visuality as Vinci did, yet in a more a sensuous and seamless manner. In fact, the media involved in the production of intermedial effects and of the overall narrative retain a stronger reliance on visuality than in Vinci. Elements pertaining to film, animation, photography, painting, theatre, shadow play and puppets theatre, acrobatics and music combine in unexpected ways, providing, here too, a quasi-continuous alternation of distance in spectatorship, accomplished through softer, at times darker tones.

Elsinore Lepage’s third solo occurred at a point in the director’s career when, already recognized internationally as a Wunderkind of contemporary theatre and acclaimed by the theatrical elite (practitioners, critics as well as scholars), the theatre-maker was looking for ways to further validate his artistic efforts by “locating them under the sign of Shakespeare,”51 as Lavender suggests (2001, 5). Coincidentally, also, according to Lepage’s own statements, Elsinore (1995) stemmed from the need to recover from a personal significant loss: the death of his father.52 The new solo explored through medial and (quite impressive) technological means, in line with the financial resources that a star of his calibre would have had access to at

51

In the introductive chapter to his book-length study Hamlet in Pieces…(2001) Andy Lavender maintains that directors turn to Shakespeare not necessarily to get “some authentic Bardic truth,” but to authorize their own efforts, as part of the Western theatrical landscape. Moreover Hamlet, a play well-known for its staging difficulties, dramaturgic particularities and thematic complexity, represents a milestone for any director that ambitions to make history. In the scholar’s opinion, the Shakespearean play becomes, therefore, a directorial challenge and a necessary instrument in (re)articulating artistic identity, through the development of a personal “take” upon the play that surpasses notions of creative directorial interpretation and legitimates an auctorial approach. Hamlet has become, as the scholar suggests, “an icon of theatre, a playground for theatricality, and a brand of theatrical credibility” (2001, 224). In light of this, Lavender’s study proposes a comparative perspective upon three different solos inspired the Shakespearean play, all created and presented (roughly) at the same time by three practitioners of seminal importance for contemporary Western theatre: Peter Brook, Robert Wilson and Robert Lepage. 52 Lepage states: “I found myself, in a certain way, haunted by the ghost of my own father, and I called to question my relationship with my mother, my brother, heredity and so on” (Charest 1997, 173).

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the time,53 yet using a predominantly intermedial vein rather than multimedial, the ways in which Elsinore – the world inhabited by Hamlet – became absorbed in the character’s mind. The famous Shakespearean text was refashioned and used as only one element of the intermedial narrative, to inspire the haunted world of Elsinore figured on stage through an impressive and sensorially overwhelming stage machinery called the Monolith, which became the site for the intellectual and emotional projections of the Danish prince. Developed based on the, by now, wellestablished Lepagean method, the solo prompted the majority of critiques and studies to consider the piece an “original” Lepage rather than a contemporary interpretation of Hamlet.54 In addition to the selected parts from the Shakespearean play, refashioned,55 the narrative of Elsinore contained highly complex visual scenes and proposed situations that expanded on the meanderings of Hamlet’s mind – i.e. Hamlet in Ophelia’s bedroom – in ways not imagined by the Bard. One actor performed all the characters of the original play and was at times visibly, yet silently doubled by Pierre Bernier – i.e. the duel scene.56 The show underwent 53

In terms of the material resources involved, Lepage notes in the Elsinore program: “Technologically speaking, the facilities available to me this time around allowed me to run certain passages through an X-ray machine, as it were, although the play, taking place entirely inside Hamlet’s head, may seem more like a brain scan. Just as the artist Delacroix sketched over a dozen scenes from Hamlet before producing a few paintings, I wanted to do a kind of study before attempting a definitive work” (Lepage in Lavender 2001, 6). According to Lavender, the production costs amounted to nearly one million Canadian dollars, “much of it swallowed up in the process of building, testing and revising Elsinore’s mechanical set. This single element, so crucial to the project, was allocated a further 100, 000 Canadian dollars, when the show was remounted” (2001, 100). 54 Regarding the thematic focus of the solo, Lepage states in the program notes: “What strikes me about Hamlet is his inability to link the actions he must take to his own beliefs. At one point in the play, he says to Horatio: ‘Give me that man that is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him in my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart.’ And yet, isn’t it precisely the absence of blind passion that prevents Hamlet from doing what he has to do? Some may say that this isn’t the most important paradox in Hamlet’s nature, but for me, it’s the only one, because it’s one I share. […] Elsinore is not real Hamlet, but rather a preliminary exploration of the meanderings of his thoughts” (1995, 4). 55 The very first version of the solo, in French (entitled Elseneur), used Victor Hugo’s nineteenth century translation of the Shakespearean play, but the solo was subsequently adapted to use a more modern idiom. 56 Lavender describes Bernier as a Québécois mime performer, “maker of gadgets, all-round man-of-theatre and engaging eccentric” (2001, 110). The scholar

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several stages of development even after the initial opening in Montreal in November 1995. The performance encompassed a process of reconfiguration, editing and “trimming”57 towards a more organic and seamless integration of the Monolith. The solo’s final version premiered in Ottawa in October 1997, following a three-weeks intensive rehearsals period in which the performance was reworked to replace Lepage with the well-known British actor Peter Darling.58 Elsinore provoked clear-cut critical positions throughout its entire life. On the one hand, traditionalists felt almost offended by the overt “technological drive” of the solo, proclaiming that the value of the performance resided entirely and exclusively in the deployment of a series of masterful special effects, which (alas!) undermined the value of the dramatic text, failing to bring anything novel or substantial to the understanding of the Shakespearean masterpiece. On the other hand, Lepage enthusiasts applauded the visual achievements of the performance, construing the directorial proposal as a unique exploration of the contemporary relationship between man and machine and, thus, underlining the intermediality of the mise-en-scene as an explicit theme. In reviewing the performance of the opening night, in “Dictature et promesses d’une machine” (1995) Jean St. Hilaire considers Lepage’s identification with Hamlet convincing even more so because of the paradoxical fragmentation of the performer’s efforts to serve all other characters, whether masculine or feminine. The critic praises the surprising and, at times, strangely overwhelming visuality of the show, which he considers to propose a formal audacity unprecedented even for the Québécois director himself. Hilaire observes nevertheless a sense of “rawness” of the solo with regards to the integration of the Monolith into the economy of performance. Three weeks later, the same Le Soleil critic ascertains that Bernier’s role in the process of creation was significant: “He suggested ideas, performed stunts so that Lepage could watch and facilitate bits of business that were eventually used in the show. During performances he coordinated the backstage activity” (2001, 110). 57 The initial version was three hours long, but in time the solo was reduced to half, according to Ex Machina archival information (n.p.). 58 The Elsinore program especially published for the Dublin Theatre Festival (1719 October, 1997) describes Peter Darling as a British actor “well known to theatre audiences in the UK where his recent appearances include Richard III (directed by Richard Eyre, National Theatre and US Tour) and The Blue Ball (directed by Paul Godfrey, National Theatre). He has also worked with renowned companies including DV8 Physical Theatre in the highly acclaimed HSM (directed by Lloyd Newson, Royal Court Theatre and on tour) and with Cheek by Jowl in The Tempest and Philoctates (directed by Declan Donnellan, on tour).”

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states in “Elseneur en net progrès” (1995) that, whilst during the opening night the actor seemed occasionally engulfed by the technological apparatus, meanwhile an ever-changing relationship established between the performer, the Monolith, light design and music seems to have evolved, thus creating space for the development of all the characters, adding to their emotional depth. The critic recognizes this as an improvement with subsequently relevant impact in terms of spectatorship (Hilaire 1995a). Luc Boulanger in “Au coeur du sujet” (1995) had, also, laudatory comments for Lepage’s openly expressed attempt to experiment with the Shakespearean language, and for the exploration of its musical and rhythmic potential via media (1995). Heidi Weiss in “Lepage, New Media Dazzle in ‘Elsinore’” (1996) labeled the show “a work of brilliance and unending imagination,” able to change one’s perception about the Shakespearean play, and a remarkable synthesis of “dazzling theater technology and cinematic conventions (including film-like projected credits) to create an intensely personal, richly architectural and wholly revelatory take on the drama” (1996). Weiss emphasizes that the performer, “in something of a state of virtual reality, literally enters into the play,” (1996) highlighting the solo’s immersive qualities. The critic underlines that, watching the actor engage not only with the Shakespearean text, but also with the “complex stage mechanics (designed by Carl Fillion), the multimedia effects (Jacques Collin), the video animation (Michel Petrin), and Robert Caux’s bravura soundscape and vocal synthesis” provided a “thrilling pleasure” in terms of spectatorship (Weiss 1996). Michael Coveney, on the other hand, in “First Person Singular” (1996) suggests that the show “gets lost” into special effects that become too demonstrative and, unlike Needles and Opium, “suffers from a lack of personal declaration.” The critic appreciates, however, the Rembrandtean glow proposed by the light design and the “particularly brilliant” mise-enscene of the final duel as aspects that remain inscribed in the spectator’s mind, in spite of the other “minuses” of the solo. French critic Jacques Parneix, in “‘Elseneur’: Super Lepage ou ‘Game over’?” (1996), considers the solo a “Super Mario” game on stage, yet without the interactivity of video games and, therefore, calling into question the very definition of such theatre. Parneix admits, however, that spectatorial pleasure is more than present throughout the performance, especially for young audiences who have a televisual and multi-medial way of seeing. As proof, he recollects the standing ovations coming from young spectators at the end of the solo (1996).

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The reworked version with Peter Darling had a slightly more homogeneous critical response, due to the substantial reconfiguration/ remediation of the relationship between the performer and the scenic apparatus. Also, Darling’s mastery of classical Shakespearean performing and his (almost) acrobatic physicality were added assets to the mix. Brian Gorman in “Elsinore Houses One-Man Wonder” (1997) rated the new opening night with four stars out of five. In Gorman’s interpretation, Elsinore was “a weird, exhilarating, surreal adventure of a piece, a theatrical and cinematic delight that pits the audience’s senses against each other” (1997), a meeting on stage “between Kurosawa and Bergman,” realized with unexpected multimedia means.59 Iris Winston, however, in “High-tech Hamlet Loses Sight of Play” (1997) states: “the technological cleverness and flashy visuals grab the attention at the expense of the language and complexity of the play” (1997). Nonetheless, the critic concludes by defining Elsinore as “a celebration of technology […] a stupendous visual and aural display, […] a tribute to Lepage’s fertile imagination and devotion to technology” (Winston 1997). Kyle Minor considers in “‘Elsinore’ – a ‘Hamlet’ like no other” (1997) that the solo “overwhelms the senses while acing out the heart’s chance for investment.” Chesley Plemmons in “As one-man show, ‘Elsinore’ Not the Same Old Hamlet” (1997) denounces Lepage’s overindulgence in risktaking through the mise-en-scene and labels the end result as “more selfserving than theatrically valid,” in spite of the visually “intriguing” and “towering special effects” performed on stage in a manner “much like today’s elaborate music videos” (1997). In Plemmons’s interpretation, the mixture of video projections and the “throbbing New Wave music” enhance the impact of the “often hallucinatory action” (1997). In conclusion, the majority of reviews for Elsinore recognize the experimental nature of the solo and its ostensible technological vein, attempting to interpret or describe in various ways the intermedial proposition of the mise-en scene, whilst acknowledging its strong, at times, overwhelming impact upon spectatorship. 59

Gorman notes: “The verbal language is Elizabethan, but the visual language is Bergman meets Kurosawa, a visually breathtaking blend of Ran and The Seventh Seal, with all the splendor and dread that might imply. Like Kurosawa, Lepage uses a viscerally powerful range of colors, motions and shading to evoke moods, sometimes changing them mid-scene; like Bergman’s knight in The Seventh Seal, Lepage’s Hamlet is a crusader playing a deadly chess game for his very soul. To achieve this effect, Lepage employs a range of video and technical wonderments that turn the stage into a fun house – and a potential deathtrap for any actor insanely brave enough to perform upon it” (1997, emphasis in original).

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Frank Bauchard’s study on Elsinore – “Théâtre des Interfaces” (2003) – suggests that the solo reconfigures the relationship between theatre and visuality through a quasi-continuous variation of distance in terms of spectatorship. The scholar states: Robert Lepage développait une série de personnages au cœur d’un dispositif technique complexe constituant autant d’interfaces de son jeu vidéosurveillance, caméras infrarouges, amplification et manipulation de la voix. Les projections du corps de l’acteur, l’amplification de sa voix, agissaient alors comme des masques visuels et acoustiques qui rapprochent ou distancient la salle et la scène. Il observera à la suite de cette expérience que les moyens techniques utilisés rendaient le contact avec le public plus intime (Bauchard 2003, 96-97).60

The strength of Lepage’s directorial approach resides, thus, in the intertwining of dramatic and visual media conventions, the fluidity of the action and the specific architecture of perception engendered by the medial action on stage. In other words, the intermedial mise-en scene constantly and consistently stimulated spectatorial perception. Andy Lavender’s Hamlet in Piece: Shakespeare Reworked: Peter Brook, Robert Lepage, Robert Wilson (2001) discusses at length Elsinore: its initial “Resources,” the response from critics and audience and the workshop period of “refashioning”61 the work, with Peter Darling, and attempts to compare the solo with the one-man shows based on Hamlet created by Peter Brook and Robert Wilson. The scholar emphasizes that, through the transformative mise-en-scene, Elsinore makes visible the main creative principle in Lepage’s work: that directorial work is, in fact, “an act of primary creation rather than a secondary interpretation” (2001, 135), and that, in such instances, theatre becomes a place where “things are made sensuously present” (144). Lavender sees Elsinore as an 60

In English: “Robert Lepage developed a series of characters at the heart of a complex technical apparatus, which constitutes itself into several interfaces that integrate devices pertaining to video surveillance games: infrared cameras, amplification and manipulation of voice. [new paragraph] The projections of the actor’s body and the amplification of his voice, thus, act as visual and acoustic masks, bringing closer or distancing the house and the stage. As a consequence of this experience he [Lepage] observed that the technical means used made the contact with the audience more intimate” (author’s trans.). 61 According to Lavender, Elsinore’s “first outputs were long and often literal, but the show became increasingly lean and cavalier. Phased workshops allow[ed] for greater integration of design and technical elements (2001, 216).

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“articulation of the meeting between theatre and electronic technology” (145) that offers for the spectator: [A]n experience of flux and transformation, through dazzling shifts of images which themselves come layered with metaphor. The visual and aural grammar belongs as readily to cinema as to theatre, and it involves the audience in sensorial enjoyment as much as thinking (Lavender 2001, 222).

In other words, the mise-en-scene performs upon the spectator a quasicontinuous intermedial effect. Lepage’s “close-up” on Hamlet’s subjectivity engenders “a distinctly modern sense of anxiety caused by an inability to find the solid centre of anything or anyone” (Lavender 2001, 208), and the text, set and mise-en scene – fluid and unstable – reflect this continually shifting perceptual ground. Moreover, although Elsinore appears to be saturated with visual stimuli, “a trace of emptiness prevails through Lepage’s screens” (208). The mise-en-scene portrays a selfabsorbed Hamlet, with the metaphor made literal through the presence of the Monolith and its use throughout the performance. The main theme of the solo – the relationship between the modern man and the machine as self-created extension – arguably leads the spectator to the conclusion that McLuhan’s postulate “The medium is the message” is axiomatic for the mise-en-scene (213).62 In other words, Lepage’s interest in medial explorations within the framing medium of theatre is taken here further than in previous solos. The scenic space configured in Elsinore provides a sculptural approach to the theme highlighted by Lavender, taking further the intermedial vein present in Needles and Opium, yet based on a similar dynamic that involves one performer in close relationship with a moving set with highly transformative potential. The Monolith – a plane surface, often further divided into three sizable panels that rotate, revolve, raise or lower – replaces the mobile screen from Needles and Opium. Slide and/or live video imagery projected on the panels re-create the “texture” of different spaces, provide thematic contextualizations, or simply take further the narrative. The central panel of the Monolith, turning on a pivot, has a square opening that metamorphoses throughout the solo in various ways. 62

Lavender maintains: “The overt use of technology creates a nice tension between the domains of modern machinery (cinema/TV/video) and live, human performer (theatre). The actor is more vulnerable, as he works within evident parameters set by the machine. But he is simultaneously empowered, since he acts with and for technology. Apart from riding the set, he relates to the audience by means of performance on stage and to the camera” (2001, 143).

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In addition to this highly sophisticated technical configuration, set elements are occasionally introduced (i.e. a swivel chair, a table, etc.) to create the impression of authenticity of place or situation and serve the action on stage. The panels that form the Monolith serve as projection screens, yet they are opaque, non-transparent structures. Thus, the shadowplay, present in previous solos as one mode of performing, is replaced here by live or recorded video.63 Another layer of the scenic configuration, equally intricately elaborated, is constituted by the light design, aimed to create “a combination of laser-like precision, moody sensuality and violent disturbance that complements perfectly the images thrown up on this amazing mobile backdrop” (Matthews 1997). The soundscape of Elsinore is realised through the intermedial combination – i.e. juxtaposition and/or intertwining – of original music and digital voice treatment. Caux’s original music score accompanies the show live in the manner of the early cinema music, and underlines themes of threat, danger, melancholy, or emotional and mental disconnection. The sophisticated digital treatment of the actor’s voice is differentiated for each character to discreetly enhance characterization, the musicality of language and the overall rhythm of the solo.64 63

According to Lavender: “[t]he still images were fed by slide projectors, paired so that they could be cross-faded. A single video-projector was focused on each screen-panel, projecting images coming either from one of the four on-stage live cameras, or from a video recorder. Stage manager Eric Fauque live-mixed all visuals on stage and, therefore, much of the effect depended upon the smooth operation: fading in and out of black, for instance, and achieving and appropriate rhythm to cuts and cross-fades. The two lateral screen/panels, which gave the impression of moving into different positions with computerized smoothness, were in fact pushed by stagehands supplied by the respective venues to which the show toured, who were rehearsed during the get-in and cued by members of the backstage team during the show” (2001, 137). 64 Lavender describes the involvement of the sound technological apparatus, mastered by Lepage’s long term collaborator Robert Caux, as follows: “Caux sits at a keyboard, but this is more than an orchestra pit organ. Everything goes through a MIDI (musical instrument digital interface) system. Caux’s sampler allows multiple treatments of notes and effects, enabling more sophisticated colouring of the design concept – an interface between a palette of period sounds (lute, flute, and viola da gamba, for instance) and a tight, modern scoring. Caux also plays two additional synthesizers. When Darling speaks as Polonius, his voice is fed through a vocal harmony processor programmed to produce a particular pitch, timbre and reverberation. Darling wears not just one radio mic but two, so that Caux and sound engineer Claude Cyr can switch rapidly between vocal sources and treatments”(2001, 136-137).

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Thus, the complex and “technologically heavy” scenic space of Elsinore is ongoingly reconfigured by the mise-en-scene, through the juxtaposition, intertwining and/or hybridization of the above-described media elements, with two major consequences in the situation of live performance. Firstly the unfolding of the solo depended on the proper functioning of all the constitutive elements of the scenographic apparatus and the minute coordination between the different departments that fed the show technically, which proved tricky in particular instances.65 Secondly, the performer’s presence appeared, at times, inevitably engulfed by the sensory overload on stage; nothing more than a cog in the machine, a piece too small for this almost gigantic, complex puzzle, which, arguably, tended to undermine the perceived theatricality of the solo and, at times, diluted the impact of the intermedial effects sought upon spectatorship. Nevertheless, the show’s openly experimental nature counterbalanced the above-mentioned shortcomings in many respects, as accounts discussed above suggest. The official Elsinore text contains (on two separate columns) both the English and the French translation, with scene titles in French only. The video-documentation considered official by Ex Machina archives is also composed of two performances: one with Robert Lepage66 and the second with Peter Darling.67 For the purposes of the present analysis the first version of the recording, in combination with the manuscript,68 will be used. Thus, the scene order is as follows : (1) “Le Spectre,” (2) “Espions 1,” (3) “Espions 2,” (4) “Ceci de cela,” (5) “Des Mots,” (6) “Hecuba,” (7) “La Scène de d’Ophélie (no text),” (8) “Etre ou ne pas être,” (9) “La cloche,” (10) “Horatio,” (11) “Speak the speech,” (12) “La Souricière,” (13) “Sorcelleries,” (14) “Les Yeux,” (15) “Le Souper,” (16) “Chez le Roi,” (17) “Lettres,” (18) “Table Verticale,” (19) “Crane-Cortège” and (19a) “Le Combat.”69 65

The company had to cancel or delay performances in Chicago and Toronto. Also, most famously, at the 50th edition of the International Theatre Festival in Edinburgh, in 1996, the much expected Elsinore had to be cancelled due to a malfunction of the scenic apparatus, which resulted in downright nasty media reactions and almost compromised the show’s touring life. 66 Recorded on 12 September 1996, according to Ex Machina archive. 67 The “Peter Darling version” was recorded a year later, during the show’s presentation at Brooklyn Academy of Music in New York on 10 Oct 1997, according to Ex Machina archive. 68 According to the front cover of the manuscript, this was the fifth version of Elsinore and was used during the 1996 touring, with Lepage as main performer 69 In English: (1) “The Ghost,” (2) “Spies 1,” (3) “Spies 2,” (4) “This and That,” (5) “Words,” (6) “Hecuba,” (7 ) “Ophelia Scene (no text),” (8) “To Be or Not to

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Elsinore – in its “Lepage version” – starts with a preparatory moment, a discrete invitation to self-reflection, for the audience. Before the house lights go off, the central panel is slowly elevated and the rectangular space in the middle appears, covered by a Lycra screen on which a live feed of the audience is projected. A mirroring effect is, thus, induced right from the start, framing the performance to suggest a particular type of engagement that includes self-reflectivity as one of the main foci of experience. Then house lights go off and a long blackout ensues, offering the audience the time to incorporate the suggestion. The solo opens with the apparition of the ghost. This is introduced first aurally – by sounds of slowly dragged feet, echoed via synthesizer, and atmospheric, heavy wind – and then visually – by five mobile spots situated in front of the central screen, which cast their lights and create a moving vortex out of which, during a slow “fade-in” of the theatrical image thus construed, the ghost appears as if embodied live. In fact, a trompe d’oeil effect – combining light, rhythm and video projection – is performed upon the spectator, highlighting the medial theme of the show. The ghost, embodied exclusively through mediated means, then slowly “rises” inside the rectangular frame, as if trapped or confined by it, and its speech, delivered by live voice altered electronically, enhances the eerie sensation of unearthly heaviness of the scene. On the two lateral panels that become gradually visible to the audience by means of stage light, the vibrations of sound are represented graphically throughout the entire speech. The sound is given, thus, an additional, visual/distancing dimension. The performer’s voice is altered progressively to the point of becoming unrecognizable, as the dramatic tension escalates. At the end of the scene, the visual apparition fades out quickly and unexpectedly, as if melting into the ground.70 The entire scene emphasizes the material presence of media (through the associated technological apparatuses) and highlights their thematic intertwining, their fluid and ubiquitous potential to embody human obsessions and emotions and, evidently, alter perception. Be,” (9) “The Bell,” (10) “Horatio,” (11) “Speak the speech,” (12) “The Mousetrap,” (13) “Witchcraft,” (14) “The Eyes,” (15) “Dinner,” (16) “At the King,” (17) “Letters” (18) “Vertical table,” (19) “Crane-Parade” and (19a) “The Fight” (author’s trans.). 70 Lavender’s above-mentioned study provides a detailed account (pp. 139-140) of the changes operated to the “ghost scene” in the “Darling version” and acknowledges its change of place within the remediated dramaturgical configuration. According to the scholar, the changes were made in order to highlight the “technologically driven” theme of the solo.

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The transition to scene 2 – “Espions 1” – is realized through a double cross-fade of light and sound. The brief blackout gives way to live music – a sombre medieval theme that enhances the (rather) gloomy atmosphere already established, and offers a discrete chronological time contextualisation for the dramatic action. The music supports – through the use of drums – the rhythm of the speech while the central panel rotates 360° and reveals, inside the same rectangular frame in which the ghost made its apparition previously, now reversed at sight, the scenic reconstruction of a playing card; the King of Black Hearts. A throne that seems suspended in the air and a shiny golden crown, glued to the set above the head of the performer, constitute the space in which the performer, addressing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, in fact the audience, impersonates, in turn, the King and the Queen of Elsinore whilst seated. The metaphorical associations suggested by the scenic design are, also, used with diegetic purpose. The differentiation between the two characters is accomplished bodily, through minimal yet effective changes of posture, attitude and vocal nuancing enhanced electronically by computerized live treatment. The entire scene has as additional aural support, the music described above. The quick switch of bodily postures and voice inflections are effects of theatricality. Yet the hybridization performed by the treatment of the voice reminds of cinematic conventions of SCI-FI or thriller movies. Hybridization occurs also at a thematic level: the two characters that appear almost “superimposed” – through acting – on the same body, stimulate further metaphorical associations. The light design underlines the further hybridization of theatrical and cinematic conventions within the scene; the area of performing is lit warmly, in line with theatrical conventions, while the lateral areas and the two panels remain in the dark. The spectatorial gaze is thus directed to the central panel, which bears, through its positioning and size, similarities with a cinematic screen. Yet the action performed is theatrical and, moreover, focused on enhancing theatricality, consequently providing the sensation that filmic images are “embodied,” they become three-dimensional in front of the spectators. Thus, through all the elements described above, a powerful and multi-layered intermedial effect is engendered in spectatorship. The transition to the third scene – “Espions 2” – is accomplished through an even longer cross-fade of light and sound, based on the convention already established. The central panel lowers slowly to the ground, to deposit the performer seated on the throne and facing the audience, while the rectangular Lycra screen, now raised above his head, casts a blue light. The central panel then rises again and moves slightly

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forward, its rectangular opening framing the actor’s upper body. Lateral panels move slowly to the front, aligning themselves with the central panel, to configure a wall. The entire movement of the scenic apparatus is underlined as performative movement, with no additional aural support; the only sounds are those produced by the Monolith’s movement. Spectatorial attention is focused exclusively on the visual, through the dynamics of the scenic apparatus, which is introduced, thus, as one of the protagonists of the solo. The Monolith’s performance becomes, in fact, recurrent and central to the solo. As well as being a medial extension in itself and contributing to the diegetic developments in the solo, the Monolith, as performer, unravels the human vs. technology theme, tackled here overtly by Lepage. The tone of performance switches then unexpectedly, as an oboe theme is softly introduced aurally. The blue light from above fades out slowly and the Lycra screen gradually covers the opening of the central panel, like a shade lowered to cover a window. The face of the performer can be seen small and in one corner of the frame, for a few seconds, then disappears completely. The Lycra screen is now lit from behind by a white cold light. Hamlet is presented thus – for the first time – in a frame, as a living painting, an image meant to remain (as in vignette) engrained on the retina of the spectator. The sequence attempts to materialise in performative terms the “creation” of Hamlet as a fictional character, situated at the confluence of different media and technologies/machineries that unfold at sight, and, perhaps most importantly, from a diegetic perspective, as a passive, receptive being, absorbing various influences whilst being subdued by them. Theatrical and cinematic conventions are hybridized and concur to the materialization of the particular definition of the main character – both literal and metaphoric –, creating also an unmistakable intermedial effect in spectatorship. Once Hamlet introduced to the audience as an image confined to a frame, rear lights cross-fade to black and the central panel advances slightly, securing the impression of three-dimensionality of the performer, whilst slide projections add a bricked texture to the panels, configuring them into castle walls, on which, superimposed, the credits for Elsinore start to unfold. Following this new performative re-configuration of the Monolith, at sight, meant to create effects of theatricality, the “running” of the solo’s credits creates a robust cinematic impression. The moment is performed through the superimposition of slides (of bricked texture) and pre-recorded video footage projection (the credits), accompanied by live music. Thus, through the mixture of the “live” and “mediatized” and the quick alternation or mixture of conventions pertaining to the two media (film and

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theatre), the intermedial effect is furthered and connected to the metanarrative related to the modern man and his medial extensions. Another cross-fade of lights reveals the lateral panels now moving to form a semi-hexagonal area that focuses the spectator’s gaze towards the centre, in perspectival viewing manner. The aperture of the central panel opens to reveal, upstage, a screen that reflects a white, cold stage light. The depth of the performance space is now fully established for the first time and with it, the three-dimensional spatial convention of theatre, installed temporarily. Hamlet climbs stairs unseen by the audience and stands in the aperture frame, as if in the frame of a door. His first lines describe Denmark, to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, as a “godly prison.” The two characters are – in fact – close-up video-projections of the performer, in upper-body profile, and are filmed live, from opposite sides, with cameras located behind the panels. Camera angles are slightly different; lights coming from the two sides also discreetly enhance differentiation. The mise-en-scene, thus, combines live and mediatized images of the same performer, all produced in real-time, and makes Hamlet meet Rosencrantz and Guildenstern – his mediatized “alter-egos” – within the same theatrical image framed by the scenic space. Thus – with intermedial means – it is suggested that all the action happens inside Hamlet’s mind and, at thematic level, that character differentiation is ultimately a matter of perception. As implied by the intermedial effect above, live projections alter the performer’s image through stage lighting, camera angle and aperture, and manage to create the illusion of difference, and, also, an effect of distantiation, yet they perform characters that, through their action of silent surveillance, suggest extreme proximity. A friction in perception is, thus, provoked by this combination of the “live” and “mediatized” within the frame of performance, following through the thematic associations proposed earlier on. Spectatorial perception is challenged by the friction and, consequently, engenders opposing sensations: the immediacy created by the intermedial illusion and the hypermediacy induced by the material presence of technology and the awareness of the optical illusion. The intermedial effect constitutes, however, just an introduction to the main body of the scene, in which the famous Shakespearean soliloquy “What a piece of work is man” is staged via another unexpected and imaginative intermedial set-up. The video projections performing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern loose prominence through stage-light alteration, and, via another cross-fade of light and video, a flickering animated projection appears on both lateral panels, citing visually one of the famous and highly experimental (at their time)

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series of pictures of the naked athlete by Eadweard J. Muybridge. 71 The performer then integrates bodily into the serial animated image by assuming, for a few moments, bodily postures within the same movement logic. This unsettles further spectatorial perception through a reconfiguration of the play between the “live” and the “mediatized,” creating an effect of mediatisation upon the live body. Performing a photographic image within a frame, alongside the animated images that reference Muybridge’s exploratory work, produces an effect of hybridization that aims to raise questions about photography as a medium in relation to the materiality of the human body, and to perception. After this brief self-reflective interlude, thematically connected to the intermedial nature of media and the relativity of perception, the dramatic action is resumed and the visual dialogue between the live performer, as Hamlet, and his video projections, representing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, continues just in order to conclude the scene and move the action further. The narrative is now aurally augmented through the superimposition of Hamlet’s soliloquy, performed live by the actor and supported by musical score, also performed live in a manner reminding of early cinematic conventions. The intermedial configuration resumes just in order to be briefly further explored and then, again, de-constructed differently. The central panel starts to rotate and the movement of the aperture lets the spectator see, live and in sequence, the different frames of the performer’s body. The stage light changes to warmer colours and, on the central panel, on a rectangular frame bigger than the aperture, the famous Leonardo da Vinci drawing Vitruvius man (1490) is projected for a moment to then cross-fade into the projection of a magnified key hole, in the middle of which stands Hamlet, “surveyed” closely on both sides by his medial alter-egos, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Lepage quotes again here – as in Vinci – the famous drawing by the Italian master in an attempt to narrate metaphorically and suggest associations with the external confinements of the human body, indirectly making self-referential suggestions to the thematic interconnections at play in his theatrical work. The scene ends by resuming its initial image and puts the Monolith stagecentre from a performative point of view.

71

Muybridge’s serial pictures, taken and published at the end of nineteenth century, are well-known as photographical studies of human nature, reflected through the mechanics of bodily movements. Lepage introduces, through this iconic historical reference and in connection to the meta-theme of the solo, both the notion of identity fragmentation and of the sequentiality of vision in relation to photography.

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Scene 4 – “Ceci de cela” – blends in swiftly, through a change of light projection onto the background screen, turning from blue to warmer “sunset” tones. The performer’s sudden change of voice, enhanced digitally, marks the impersonation of a new character: Polonius. Portrayed as a scholar of his time, the character is construed visually through the simple putting on of a cape, whilst the warm light switches from the background to the front, lighting also the lateral panels and creating the “Rembrandtean glow” commended by reviewers. The space is reconfigured further. Walls open-up and a theatre curtain upstage, drawn aside by the actor, at sight, reveals another screen on which the magnified projection of Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia is shown. The scene’s swift pace and its reliance on theatrical effects, pertaining mainly to acting, rebalance the medial configuration in favour of the theatrical. The background screen, however, is still used as a reminder of the intermedial nature of the solo. Polonius performs in front of an imaginary royal couple the “scientific analysis” of Hamlet’s letter and concludes: “insanity peaks.” Then, while the set slowly resumes its position at the beginning of the scene, Polonius reverses the spatial convention towards upstage, like in a mirror, as he turns his back to the audience while continuing to address the royal couple, now on their way out. This mise-en-scene effect underlines, again, in a different manner, the theme of perception. Theatricality is, thus, enhanced as the physical absence of the royal couple is turned into its very presence, in the audience’s imagination. A swift transition to Scene 5 – “Des Mots” – starts with the performer literally jumping out of the frame situated behind the central panel, while the aperture rotates from its vertical position to the horizontal. A rolling ladder appears on the side (behind the central panel), the background screen is lit as in the previous scene and all three panels join again, forming a wall on which slide images with library shelves overcrowded with books are projected, adding to the “veridicity” of the scene’s set-up, in a filmic manner. Polonius meets a Hamlet that mimes his own madness; a meeting performed by Lepage only, of course. The scenic configuration, with its horizontal aperture, makes clear reference to the traditional set-up of puppets theatre, adding to the discreetly comedic tone of the scene, alongside the quick exchange of lines, the sudden rolling of the ladder on stage (from one side to the other) at precisely timed moments, to enhance comedic effect, and a differentiated bodily language established for each character. Then, for a while, only Hamlet’s lower part of the body, on the ladder, and Polonius’ head small, in the corner of the aperture, are seen. The convention of traditional theatre seems solidly reinstalled; retaining a discrete focus on visuality enhanced by the reference to puppet theatre

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conventions, and with the slide projections reminding of the cinematic. The end of the scene, with its long blackout, prepares the spectator for another switch in spectatorial distance, while the scenic space is reconfigured.

Fig. 4-3: The MONOLITH…

In scene 6 – “Hecuba” – Hamlet’s soliloquy on the theme of revenge is performed. The stage is dimly, yet entirely lit, revealing the Monolith as a metallic and mobile intricate structure, an almost visually aggressive materialisation of the heavy “machinery of the mind.” The theme of the technology as an extension of the human mind is tackled here visually. The metaphor is made literal and reinforced as the performer climbs the Monolith incessantly, almost like Sisyphus, thus physicalizing theatrically the torment within Hamlet’s mind. A cinematic sound score emphasizing the sensation of danger underlines the repetitive actions and contributes to the atmosphere created. The transition to scene 7 – “La Scène d’Ophelie” – is seamless and entirely focused on the visual. The central panel becomes visible again, covered by the Lycra screen, which now has an aperture through which the performer introduces his head, as if dressing himself with the screen. Lit intensely from below, the performer silently impersonates Ophelia in a moment of delicate, feminine intimacy. She puts on perfume, accompanied

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by the sweet and soft sound of a flute, produced live by the keyboard synthesizer. The moment of theatrical intimacy is created without any spoken word. The character of Ophelia is staged in contrast with all other characters presented so far. Sexual identity and gender related issues underline notions of hybridization in relation to character construction, thus emphasizing thematically the intermediality of the performance, in a discrete yet different manner. In the economy of the solo’s narrative, the scene works as an interlude, a poetic moment of great simplicity and respite that occurs right before the famous Hamletian monologue “To be or not to be,” and signals another sharp alternation of distance in spectatorship. Scene 872 – “Etre ou ne pas être” – is introduced through the reworking, at sight, of the scenic reconfiguration. The lateral panels move completely to the side, the central panel lowers to the floor and the Lycra screen revolves, rising high above the performer’s head. The space is, thus, “opened-up” and the performer becomes central on stage for the first time. He silently and pensively contemplates all the set changes as they unfold, accompanied aurally by tenebrous music performed live, then kneels facing the audience and – as Hamlet – delivers the famous Shakespearean monologue in one go. The moment is purposefully devoid of any stage effects or involvement of medial apparatuses. This is Elsinore’s moment of (almost) “pure” theatrical convention. Only the discrete aural presence of live music accompanying the soliloquy alludes to the cinematic. The sensation of intimacy engendered in Scene 7 (Ophelia’s scene) is taken here further, with discreetly different means. Scene 9 – “La cloche”73 – reintroduces Ophelia into the narrative of the solo and restores the strong focus on visuality. The Lycra screen lowers to the floor. During the set’s movement, the performer appears to pierce the fabric with his head and hands, to get dressed in it. A lace texture is projected onto the Lycra fabric, creating the suggestion of a period dress, 72

In the “Peter Darling version” this monologue opened the solo. It was presented in a remediated manner, thematically underlining themes such as suicide and isolation, whilst proposing a potentially even more obvious intermedial vein for the show, right from the start. For a detailed description of the reworked version of the scene see Lavender, pp 120. 73 In the version with Peter Darling scenes 6 and 8 are combined and reworked, with a slightly different dramatic focus: Hamlet spends time in Ophelia’s closet, performing a “fetishization of female accoutrements” that underlines themes of sexual obsession and possessiveness. Also, the differences between the two characters are performed in an even more distinctive manner. A detailed description of the scenes can be found in Lavender, pp 125-30.

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yet this texture becomes visible only when the performer speaks as Ophelia. A dialogue between Ophelia and Hamlet ensues, following similar conventions to those used for the impersonation of the royal couple in Scene 2. However, differentiation in terms of gesture, attitude and voice treatment is slightly enhanced here and highlights the increasing dramatic tension between the two characters, a tension that leads Hamlet closer to madness. The bodily movements of the performer underline the dramatic torment and suggest Hamlet’s attempt to crush Ophelia’s spirit. At the end of the scene, the performer lets the dress/screen drop onto the floor and steps forward towards the audience. The river in which Ophelia drowns is metaphorically suggested through a simple yet effective stage effect pertaining to theatrical convention: a blue, wavering gobo light suddenly floods the screen, now a piece of fabric on the floor. The combination of filmic and theatrical conventions, as well as the hybridization of the “live” and “mediatized” in the construction of Ophelia’s image, an illusion construed in full sight, develop further the main theme of the show, underlining the fact that all characters, seen and performed, are nothing but projections of Hamlet’s mind, figments of his tormented imagination. In terms of spectatorship, the highly intricate – yet discrete by means of technological apparatus – intermedial configuration emphasizes surprise and visual enchantment, gradually developed in relation to Ophelia. Scene 10 – “Horatio” – reinforces the intermediality of the mise-enscene by bringing back, centre-stage, the dialogue between the live and the mediatized images of the performer, now as Hamlet and Horatio. The dialogue is realized here through a juxtaposition of live and mediated imagery. A camera hidden upstage films the actor standing inside the aperture in profile to the audience. The actor’s mediatized image, reversed through the camera angle, is projected live onto the central screen. The impression that Hamlet, now a mediatized image, enters through the Monolith aperture as if through a door that opens by magic, and meets Horatio, performed live, is, thus, created; their images become superimposed, for a brief moment, from the spectator’s perspective. This new encounter between the “live” and “mediatized” emphasizes the theme of the scene, alluding to the fluidity of perceptual differences between identity and alterity. Hamlet meets Horatio, his only trustable friend and a kindred spirit, and thus the character/performer gets to speak to himself as the mediated other. Hamlet’s image is larger and with added tones of blue and grey (all processed live, via filmic camera effects), while on the live actor impersonating Horatio, the Rembrandtean glow is projected, discreetly nuancing through associative suggestions the difference between the two character’s state of spirit, as well as offering for the spectators

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discrete, yet potentially ambiguous cues regarding the separation between “live” and “mediatized.” Questions related to visual perception are again brought to the forefront thematically, through the intermedial configuration described above, creating a friction in terms of spectatorship. The end of the scene resumes the initial scene set-up and lights turn then off, to complete blackout. Scene 11 – “Speak the speech” – provides yet another switch of distance in terms spectatorship. Video projections and atmospheric stage lights effects are put aside in favour of a simpler configuration. A single follow spot is focused on the performer’s face and head throughout the speech. The light re-establishes a basic theatrical convention and enhances the impression of intimacy, with theatrical means. At the same time, the scene paves the way for the “play in the play” moment to follow. The reconfiguration of the space happens in the dark. A “stage-within-stage” is scenically organised for Scene 12 – “La Souricière” – where conventions pertaining to theatrical mise-en-scene are brought into the limelight, for spectatorial scrutiny and reflection. The spatial configuration presents the spectator with the traditional stage “á l’italienne,” with theatre curtains lit from behind to suggest pre-show preparations, and a dark cube in front, which functions as a transformative set/prop element that will mark the switch between the different characters impersonated. The performer is now dressed in a costume reminding in a rather minimalist way of traditional Elizabethan stagings. The light establishes in a clear-cut manner the division between the introductory dialogue performed by Hamlet for the “on-stage” audience, presumably Polonius, the royal couple and Ophelia, and the unfolding of the “play within the play” itself. The first sequence is lit in warm colours, the Rembrandtean glow is used again, while the light design for the “play within the play” sequence combines a blue wash (for the background) and warmer lights (for the downstage area). The text spoken by the performer, a quick cut between the lines of the characters within the play, the play in the play and its stage directions, the gestural language and the speech inflections, all reference clichés of Elizabethan theatre. The characters in the Mousetrap are (all) performed through quick and swift switches from one to another, using body posture and voice inflection, and by moving the black cube in to different positions.74 An extreme stylization of 74

According to Lavender, Darling “conveyed the members of the court watching ‘The Mousetrap’ (the play within the play) simply by rolling a crate along the stage. Each turn of the box, made with a thud with his hand or foot, punctuated the exchange, cued a new posture and signaled the speech of a different character. The scene was played with panache” (2001, 112). This signals slightly changed

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Elizabethan theatre conventions is, thus, proposed here, almost a medial synthesis that reinforces/highlights the medial nature of theatre and engenders hypermediacy in terms of spectatorship. The soundscape underscores the convention established via accompanying period music and without any computerized voice treatment, except for the end of the scene where the reactions of the “on-stage audience,” also performed by the actor, are enhanced by sound and light effects meant to highlight the crisis that ensues following Hamlet’s presentation of the Mousetrap. The entire area of the stage-within-stage is used for the presentation of the Mousetrap, including the proscenium figured by the inclined central panel, thus reinforcing notions of theatricality. Theatre itself, as a medium, is put under scrutiny, highlighting its potential to create visuality through the quickly paced succession of stereotypes. The impression of intimacy, of the transparency of the medium, construed in the first part of the scene is, then, progressively de-constructed, whilst the intermediality of the solo reinforced. Its effects upon spectatorship are, thus, brought to the forefront for self-reflexive scrutiny. The end of the scene, entirely focused on the visual, is performed through the use of stroboscope light; used for dramatic stage effect, to “de-compose”/ “fragment” the body of the performer at the point when Hamlet’s drama comes close to its climax. The switch to another regime of the visual enhances the dramatic effects put forward throughout the scene, offering, in terms of spectatorship, an element of surprise and stimulating further multi-layered sensorial involvement with the solo. Scene 13 – “Sorcellerie” – deals with Hamlet’s mental preparation for murder and reintroduces the spectator to the main intermedial type of configuration developed by the solo so far, yet offering another combination of the “live” and “mediatized.” The tormented figure of Hamlet appears in the aperture of the central panel of the Monolith, in an upper-body “close-up” pose accomplished with the help of stage lighting. The actor stands inside the frame with his arms spread in the shape of a cross, an embodied quotation of both the Vitruvius Man and the figure of crucified Christ. The live image of the actor is also video-projected onto the lateral screens, creating a hybridized split-screen effect. One can interpret the mediatized multiplied images as the two villains crucified alongside Christ, staged here via multi-medial means. The moment, intensely dramatic, is underlined aurally by increasingly reverberating sounds of church bells superimposed on Hamlet’s voice, which gradually becomes reverberated also. The moment ends climactically with Hamlet’s undertones between the two official versions, in terms of performing one of the most iconic scenes of the Shakespearean text.

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desperate cry for his mother. The framing aperture disappears. The light focus widens, the central panel is lowered to the floor. Hamlet’s suffering and despair are portrayed through bodily posture and attitude, the character resembling an apparition, a ghost engulfed by the blue wash. The climax of Hamlet’s torment is, thus, narrated in intermedial manner. Several formal and content related themes merge in this syncretic image (arguably) meant to provoke an equally hybridized response in terms of spectatorship. A mixture of empathy, brought in by the combination of sensorial intimacy and emotional identification with the symbolic and self-reflexive levels of the narrative, and an awareness of the mediality of the mise-enscene, engendering hypermediacy, contribute to another remediation of parameters of distance in terms of spectatorship. A long blackout transition, supported by medieval music underlining the dramatic situation, provides time for the set reconfiguration and for the audience to process and absorb the sensorial overload. Scene 14 – “Les Yeux” – maintains the same position for the lateral panels, whilst video projections are replaced by textured slide projections reminding of abstract painting. Stains of brown and grey projected on the lateral panels and on the curtain that now replaces the central panel constitute a further visual and sensorial illustration of Hamlet’s inner turmoil. The stage is dimly lit. The music score enhances the gloomy, intense atmosphere. Hamlet’s black coat lies on the floor, at the very centre of the stage. Lepage’s double has put on a cape, becoming Polonius. He wanders along the lateral panels, surveying the area now suggesting the castle walls, then stops in front of the coat standing in for Hamlet. A fastpaced confrontation between Hamlet, the Queen and Polonius follows, performed through a combination of voice-off – the actor hidden behind the curtain delivers the text – and the double’s minimal yet effective change of bodily postures. The conflict appears to reach climax with the murder of Polonius, realized on stage through a combination of theatrical movements and shadow projections on the curtain, configured with the support a stage light situated upstage left, on the floor. Thus Polonius’ shadow facing the screen, kneeled, appears disproportionately small compared to Hamlet’s impressive shadow, armed with a sword. Hamlet’s shadow pierces the curtain in Polonius’ direction with a highly theatrical gesture and the lights go off, enhancing the dramatic effect. The music, the stage movement and the light design, all underline diegetically and in highly theatrical manner the convention of murder. This, however, will be de-constructed the very next moment when the actor pulls down the curtain to the floor, completely. The body of the double has disappeared from sight, leaving just the cape behind as a stand in for Polonius’ body,

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but due to the fast paced rhythm of the action, the spectator remains (at least for a moment) under the impression that the body is still there and that the curtain actually covers him. The trompe d’oeil is staged with theatrical means only. In the background, a medieval castle wall interior displays in oval frames the portraits of the two kings: Hamlet’s father and his uncle. The new imagery revealed serves as symbolic background for the long confrontation on the theme of regicide that follows between Hamlet and his mother. The Queen’s character is here construed intermedially, through a mixture of mediatized sound (the digital alteration of the voice enhanced) and live bodily postures performed by Lepage, by putting on the cape with rather feminine gestures and facing the portraits each time he addresses Hamlet. The Queen’s bodily language in response to her son’s verbal threats – performed as if these were physical and, in fact, coming from above – is sensorially enhanced and focused by a white light coming from the sky, creating an impression of authenticity of the dialogue in spite of the obvious theatricality of the mise-en-scene. Lepage – as Hamlet – delivers his lines facing the audience, occasionally pointing at the portraits in an overtly rhetorical manner. The opposition between the two characters reinforces the tension created between the “live” and the “mediatized” and furthers the effect on spectatorship. The ghost’s apparition, at the end of the scene, enhances even further the intermedial effect. Its immateriality is, this time, performed through a combination of aural imagery – voice-off and sound effects, as in the first scene – and a very brief flashlight created through the meeting centre-stage of five mobile laser-focused mini-spotlights – present also at the very beginning of the show, yet this time they move and meet above the “body” of the Queen suggested by the cape (now) lying on the floor. The interplay between the material body of the performer as Hamlet, the imagined body of the Queen (suggested by the cape (and the ethereal body of the ghost (construed by the lights) creates a medial tension that takes further the theme of perception and its illusory, subjective nature. Thus, spectatorship is challenged by the intermedial mise-en-scene and, in particular, by the sensorial and thematic mixing of realms. Material presence, imagination and illusory perception, all blend, raising questions related to the metatheme of human perception vs. technology. Cinematic and theatrical conventions are, in this instance, hybridized to the point to which the sensation of in-between-ness created becomes consistent, almost literal and a new convention in itself. The end of the scene, however, reinstalls the dominance of the theatrical through a long, self-reflexive moment in which the performer, as Hamlet, kneeled on the floor in front of the stage

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and holds the cape (this time figuring Polonius, according to the narrative) as if holding a body devoid of life, of substance. A long transition to Scene 15 – “Le Souper” – delivers a spectacular and metamorphic reconfiguration of the Monolith into the interior of a ship. Hamlet’s haunted figure, walking up and down a set of stairs in a state of agitation and confusion, is noticeable for a while, then the Monolith resumes its previous configuration, yet with its background changes into a screening surface and, in the middle of the central panel now situated on the floor as a podium, a rectangular rotating table and a swivel chair stand, lit from above by a white cold light. The confrontation between Hamlet and Claudius is enacted in a rather unexpected manner: the actor seated in the swivel chair rotates the table and with each rotation. He switches between characters – their tone, posture, attitude – all meant to enhance the theatricality of the situation. The sensation of proximity provided by live performing is enhanced by the video projection on the screen behind, telling the same story from a different perspective; the action is filmed from above and behind the actor’s head. Due to the camera angle, the clearly mediatized version of the confrontation between the two characters facilitates a closer and therefore apparently more revealing perspective upon the dispute, drawing spectatorial attention to the projection. The cinematic and the theatrical are, thus, intertwined, creating a sensation of medial in-between-ness, and friction, in matters of spectatorial perception. The intermedial convention established and followed with minute precision throughout the entire scene is altered at the very moment of climactic confrontation; the table and the chair are given an impulse to rotate continuously, which in projection creates an added effect of vertigo that appears as both live and mediatized, and highlights metaphorically the intensity of the dramatic conflict, in fact, the intensity of friction between the “live” and “mediatised” in performance, adding another, as Hamlet emphatically leaves the stage, the central panel slowly swivels to resume its initial vertical position and the material objects on it (i.e. table and chair) disappear from sight. Only their mediatized image remains, as a visual “stain” on the spectators’ retina, as if to reverberate the very question raised regarding the nature of the “live” and “mediatized” and their ontology. The walls of the castle close as panels converge back into a wall with yet again the added layer of bricked texture (in slide projections), the Elsinore credit title appears again and the main theatre curtains are closed, for interval. Part 2 starts with Scene 16 – “Chez le Roi.” The main curtain opens slightly just enough to “frame” the performer as the Queen, dressed in black Elizabethan attire. The queen’s sadness, provoked by Hamlet’s exile,

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is staged through a combination of monologue enhanced by digital treatment and song performed live, accompanied by chords’ music. The stage light, coming from the sides, behind the curtain, sculpturally enhances the Queen’s figure. Theatrical conventions are reinforced throughout the scene, attempting to establish a moment of intimacy between the stage and auditorium. A “metamorphosis” is then performed at sight throughout the final part of the song, as a further theatrical effect. The performer takes off the black dress, revealing a white night gown underneath, covers his head with a veil and, for a moment, almost becomes Ophelia. The stage light, this time, comes from the front. The images of Hamlet’s mother and lover are, thus, hybridized visually and thematically, through minimalist bodily movement and the discrete alteration of stage lighting. The curtain then opens wide and lace-like imprint is slide projected upon the white gown and the veil, bringing the “metamorphosis” of the Queen into Ophelia to its culmination. The performer, this time lit from above by cold white light, enacts through very slow moves, Ophelia’s death by drowning. He suggests a river by shaking gently the veil while taking it off and then lies down slowly at the very time when the central panel rises to complete the configuration of the river image. The entire moment is supported aurally by soft Elizabethan musical theme. A slow cross-fade of lights insinuates a change of mood, while assisting the seamless reconfiguration of the Monolith. The central screen is taken (again) to its vertical position, revealing the performer lying on the ground. The sensation of immediacy, of emotional intimacy created by Ophelia’s poetic death, notwithstanding the Monolith’s movement, is now deconstructed by the performer’s attitude. He stands up slowly, comes to the front (left-stage) and looks back in contemplation at the central panel as this lowers slowly to the ground, an effect meant to stimulate medial awareness and propose a discrete distancing in terms of spectatorship. Scene 17 – “Lettres” – commences with a dimly lit stage, sounds of heavy sea and ship joints creaking. The central panel moves upwards, rising slowly to an angular position. The performer sits on its margins as if on a ship’s deck. Hamlet’s letter to Horatio is heard via voice-off, enhancing in a mediated, filmic manner the scene’s sensation of proximity, for the spectators. The movements of the set continue throughout the reading of the letter. The panel’s rear end is partially raised, then it starts moving suggesting a ship at sea while the performer’s actions, synchronized to the theme, enhance the diegetic convention established by the set’s performance. The intensity of the soundscape – the sounds of heavy sea and creaking ship joints that continue throughout the entire scene – reminds also of cinematic conventions and underlines the

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emotional heaviness of the moment. The very dim light on stage, suggesting night-time, follows the same logic of conventionality and, as light is even furtherly dimed, it enhances the sensation of gloomy, tormented intimacy to the point to which the last part of the scene happens in complete darkness. The entire scene is staged with theatrical means; however its particularly atmospheric visuality reminds of cinematic conventions, maintaining the intermedial vein of the solo and the dynamic in terms of quasi-continuous alternation of distance in spectatorship. Scene 18 – “Table vertical” – offers a completely different set-up for the meeting between Laertes and Claudius. The aperture of the central panel is now framed in a manner reminding of the playing cards theme used in Scene 2. The discussion between the two takes place at the table (arranged as in Scene 15) yet its filmed version projected inside the aperture is ensured by the live feed coming from a hidden camera situated above the table. The differentiation between the two characters takes place, as usually, through digital voice treatment, attitude and bodily posture. The scene is one of the few not supported by any musical score. The intermedial convention established in Scene 15 is explored here differently. The novel camera perspective references the “bird’s eye view” cinematic convention, used in thrillers to enhance dramatic tension as well as spectatorial omniscience. This, in combination with the live action, creates again a tension in diegetic terms, building up the suspense of the moment. In terms of visual perception, also, tension is enhanced due to the friction that occurs between what is perceived live and what is reflected through mediatisation. The transition to the next scene is achieved through a suite of special light effects reminding of the second appearance of the ghost. The mobile mini-spots appear again, yet they do not construe the ghost anymore – the spectator is only teased here! – while rhythmic music is introduced as aural support, referencing transition conventions between live played songs, in rock concerts. Thus a discrete effect of contextualization, of situating the narrative in contemporaneity, is overlayered thematically. Scene 19 – “Crane-Cortège” – the famous grave scene in the Shakespearean text, starts by putting forward the theatrical cliché of Hamlet holding Yorrick’s skull whilst evoking his life and personality. The stage light sculpts the performer’s figure from the side while, from the above, stroboscope flashes in sync with the music score build up the dramatic crescendo. The lit area is then widened; the intensity of light further increased. Hamlet appears with his body half-inside Ophelia’s grave (figured by the central panel lowered to the floor), gently touching her veil and dramatically declaiming his regret for the lost love. The scene

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switches gradually from hyped theatricality to intimacy through the performer’s delivery. The stage light design follows a similar pattern. Ultimately, Hamlet’s emotional torment is engulfed by the darkness of night, staged through to a long blackout underscored musically.75 The final scene – “Le Combat” – offers an unexpected perspective upon the duel between Laertes and Hamlet. The panels of the Monolith reconfigure the walls of Elsinore. The lateral panels move to an angle to suggest the hall of a castle. Brick texture is superimposed again by slide projection, this time recomposing a view of the castle from inside. In the centre the slide image of a medieval stained glass window is projected. The music underscores the medieval theme and slowly increases in intensity. The laterals of the stage – the areas in front of the panels – are lit, creating a pool of darkness like an “abyss” in the centre, in front of the central panel, underneath the slide projection. The size of the central panel’s aperture increases slowly to cover almost completely the screen, which now moves slightly to the front. The performer, as Hamlet, enters right-stage prepared for the duel. He starts by addressing Laertes, presumably situated off-sight left-stage, and then integrates the audience into his speech, creating an awareness of the conventional nature of theatre as a medium. Trumpets are heard, the performer moves behind the central panel and appears on the other side impersonating now – through slight differences of tone and posture – Laertes, as he responds to Hamlet. The performer moves then swiftly behind the panel and re-appears right-stage, dressed this time in royal gown, to perform the King who orates the rules of the duel. Then he disappears and reappears again on the other side as Laertes, and the battle commences. With the first sword strokes in the air the stained glass window image on the central panel/screen is replaced by the live video projection of the duel, filmed from another, unexpected camera angle: the handle of one of the duelers’ rapiers. The performer moves swiftly from right-stage to left-stage and back several times, performing separately, but with great precision and logical continuity, the swordfight movements for each character. The live feed projection is in slight delay, compared to the live action, yet it provides details of the opponent’s figure that hold the attention of the spectator and, thus, make 75 In the “Peter Darling version” the mise-en-scene provides an unexpected (thematic and visual) perspective upon the famous grave scene: Ophelia’s grave is seen by the audience as if from inside, with Hamlet standing on top of the central panel of the Monolith and looking into the tomb. Thus, the metaphorical abyss of the grave becomes the central object of the gaze, underlining themes related to mortality and the anxiety of death. For a detailed description of the scene’s realization see Lavender, pp 131-132.

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the performer’s transitions (from left to stage-right) easier to perform and more seamless, ensuring the combat’s continuity in terms of spectatorial perception and unifying the gestures performed separately by Lepage. Thus, the illusion of multiple live presences is created at sight, through the live staging of cinematic conventions and the swift, unexpected manipulation of technology. The camera angle chosen is meant to provide additional feelings of surprise and proximity for the spectator and enhance the sensation of authenticity of the duel, in a cinematic manner. While the stage movement throughout the scene abides by the classical rules of dramatic staging, both in terms of performing and stage combat, thus underlining the conventionality of the situation, in combination with the intermedial set-up it contributes substantially to the sensation of hypermediacy engendered by the scene. The video projections in live feed – through the mixture of close-ups and apparently chaotic details of movements – undermine this very sensation, providing the feeling of extreme proximity in terms of the perception of action, and therefore engender the sensation of intimacy. A sensorially hybrid, unsettling and – according to all surveyed accounts76 – impressive intermedial effect is thus performed upon the spectator. The action on stage however follows only partially the conventionality of the dramatic crescendo in the original duel scene written by Shakespeare. The fight is interwoven with the hasty, emotional interventions of the King and the Queen by applying crosscut editing conventions to the unfolding narrative. The action gains even more momentum after Hamlet is wounded, reminding of action packed final scenes in thriller movies. Lepage performs live the Queen’s sudden death then leaves her royal gown right-stage, as a stand in for the corpse. The King’s death is staged through a mixture sound and image. We hear Laertes in voice-off and we see the video image of Lepage as the King collapsing left-stage, while a close-up of his frightened face remains frozen, for a few seconds, on the screen centre-stage, underlining the overwhelming intensity of the situation. The performer then undresses the King’s gown at sight, symbolically evokes the character’s death by gently touching Ophelia’s veil, and then performs Laertes’ death left-stagecentre, in front of the screen. The very next second the performer becomes again Hamlet mourning his mother’s death right-stage-centre, while holding her cape in his arms. Hamlet’s own agony is then performed centre-stage, in front of the screen. Hamlet seems to want to cling to the screen, but appears engulfed gradually by the central panel aperture 76

For more details see Bibliography.

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(situated right behind the screen) and entangles himself, while falling, in the screen’s white cloth. The metallic hard structure of the Monolith is now for the first time fully revealed. Another screen lowers immediately and covers the aperture of the Monolith, lit from the front. Once the aperture completely closed by the screen, the stage light changes to warm colors; once again the Rembrandtean glow is used. Simultaneously the lateral panels resume the wall position. Brick textured slide projections recreate the convention established during the initial “credits” moment of the solo, with the texture now projected on the aperture also. The complex visual imagery is completed by the intense and highly dramatic soundscape, this time original music performed live music. Their combination reaches climactic intensity and then, the very next moment, everything stops. The final image of the solo is construed though a quick switch-off of lights from the front to rear stage. The warm touch is lost and a white dim light shapes from behind the contours of the Monolith, emphasizing the theme of imprisonment and confinement and highlighting the heaviness of the stage machinery (for a few seconds), then lights go off to mark the actual end of the solo. The final scene, as an intricate combination of theatrical and cinematic conventions and effects, is realized predominantly through multi-medial means, yet some intermedial configurations occur, as discussed above. The scene provides the spectator with an intense experience of the dramatism provided by the action packed ending and unhappy resolution, as well as with the equally intense experience of sensorial overload and medial hybridity, an experience in which the alternation of parameters of distance becomes fast-paced throughout. The epilogue described above situates itself in the same logic by taking further thematically the intermediality of the Elsinore’s proposal and placing the scenic apparatus at the core of the diegetic, thematic and medial exploration on stage. Thus, in a symbolic manner, the centrality of the Monolith as a protagonist in the solo and ironically as the only one “alive” at the end is recognized as a last diegetic element. To conclude, in Elsinore not only the complexity of the medial interplay and of formal explorations surpass the previous solos, but the mise-en-scene itself – intermedially developed and performed – becomes central in relation to spectatorship, aiming to impact on perception (perhaps) to an even greater extent than the narrative itself. The solo becomes thus a sensorially overloaded exploration of Hamlet’s mind, but more so – I suggest – of theatre’s mediality, of its potential to integrate other media, with their diegetic and aesthetic conventions and related technologies, in communicating thoughts, sensations and feelings on stage. In conclusion Elsinore becomes a directorial exploration of the limits of

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theatrical spectatorship through the use of the intermedial principle. In relation to this Lavender maintains: The spectator’s pleasure really takes wing when the staging itself rather than, solely, the show’s over-familiar content becomes available for enjoyment. This is part of the novelty, the excitement, that we seek. In this instance, the novelty is theatrical. The mise-en-scene figures the story and at the same moment signals its élan as theatre. It also defamiliarises the material, another source of pleasure. It offers a visceral experience of the theatrical (2001, 147).

The Far Side of the Moon The fourth Lepagean solo77 takes the exploration of intermediality and the subsequent attempts to alter spectatorship in a slightly different direction. It breaks away from the material prowess of media explorations in Elsinore, through a narrative about inner and outer space, accomplished via an accumulation of highly theatrical (and) intermedial images that gradually build up sensorial and thematic resonance towards an eerie ending – an “anti-gravitational” dance – labeled as simply unique by most reviewers. In fact, unlike all Lepage’s previous solos, built predominantly on paradox and disjunction, The Far Side of the Moon (2000) is a performance under the sign of harmonious integration and seamless intertwining of media within the framing medium of theatre, where paradoxes are integrated in all respects. This seamlessness in terms of spectatorial perception is, nevertheless, situated “in-between” the theatrical and the cinematic and successfully achieved, as existing accounts regarding the solo’s reception attest. The paradox is still present, but gives precedence to harmony and transforms the act of spectating in what has been acknowledged by most critics as a delightful theatrical experience. The narrative of The Far Side of the Moon brings to the forefront the sibling rivalry between Philippe and André, two Québécois brothers that have to come to terms with each other after the death of their mother. As Lepage confesses in numerous interviews, the two brothers are, in fact, the two facets of his own personality. The main narrative thread is paralleled and mirrored by the story of the Soviet-American rivalry for the conquest of outer space – i.e. the Moon – during the Cold War period. Philippe is a failed academic, idealistic and insecure, fascinated with the idea of spatial 77 The solo had two main versions. The title of the initial version is in French: La Face cachée de la Lune. For details related to the production team see Appendix A.

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conquest in which he sees a sign of the inherent narcissism of the humankind. He sends video messages to hypothetical extraterrestrial beings, attempting to overcome the current limitations of human communication and to make sense of his scientific explorations. André is a successful TV weather local presenter, emotionally superficial, egocentric and materialistic, overly confident and “overtly gay,” as it will become obvious through the mannerisms portrayed on stage. Childish jealousy, adult emotional isolation and a mixture of personal doubts and hopes that contradict each other, flaw the brotherly relationship and make their communication painful. However, the two brothers have to overcome their inability to relate to each other, in order to cope with the recent loss of their mother. The parallel narrative thread brings into discussion a series of facts pertaining to the Soviet-American rivalry – i.e. the Soyuz Soviet mission set foot on the moon first, yet the Apollo American mission was the first to capture and broadcast images of the Earth seen from the Moon and then conquered the outer space – and attempts to scrutinize the shift in perception brought forward by the redefinition of the humankind’s relationship with outer space. The notion that individuals and nations can offer mirrored images of each other is explored by the solo’s intertwined narrative, as well as reflected formally, on stage, through a quasicontinuous interplay of video imagery – documentary footage and live projections, mirroring surfaces pertaining to set-design, the use of puppetry, of understated acting reminding of conventions of filmic realism and of stand-up comedy conventions; all contributing to a range of intermedial configurations proposed by the mise-en-scene. According to its creator, The Far Side of the Moon had two initial stimuli: the idea to work on the concepts of “cosmos” and “the moon,” and, on a more personal level, the need to explore the theme of “the mother” in order to cope with the director’s own personal loss. Although the stimuli did not seem linked at first, they met gradually, throughout the period of preliminary research that lasted over a year and a half. A symbol of the mother in diverse mythologies and an important scientific subject of study throughout centuries, the Moon revealed itself as a theme containing the other, more personal theme (Monteverdi 2003, 1-2). The main “Resource” of the solo, however, is considered by Lepage to be the circular window of a washer-dryer found on the streets, among waste. Integrated centrally as part of the scenic apparatus, it became throughout the solo – mainly via rear video projections – a Laundromat machine, a fishbowl, an eye, the Earth, the Moon, an airplane window and a brainscan apparatus. The “Resource,” therefore, converted into a passageway into different segments of the fictional reality proposed by the solo and a

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diegetic connector – a “continuity object,” as in film practice – employed for the seamless unfolding of the story, in a manner reminding of cinematic conventions. One could state, in fact, that the washer-dryer window was the most used “Resource” in any of Lepage’s solos. Additional “Resources” employed were: the American astronaut Buzz Aldrin’s memories about the moon conquest,78 documentary footage of the spatial conquest from both the Soviet and the American teams, as well as Lepage’s own teenage autobiographical recollections. According to Elena Park, during the period of preliminary exploration, Lepage became fascinated with the contrast between the American and Soviet approaches towards the outer space conquest and their mythologizing potential. In the director’s colourful description, summarized by Park: American astronauts were ‘white, shiny knights’ who navigated the stars in the name of God and peace, while Russian cosmonauts were ‘a bunch of romantic cowboys’ who ventured forward seeking the infinite and the sublime (2001, 66).

The Far Side of the Moon premiered at Théâtre du Trident in QuébecCity in February 2000, with highly positive critical and audience response, and started a busy touring life throughout the Western world which continues to this day,79 bringing the Québecois director the biggest number of accolades for any of his solos, so far.80 The show was initially performed in French and lasted 2 hours and 45 minutes without intermission, but in the period immediately following the opening night was remediated and trimmed, as well as translated into English for touring purposes, and the version presented at the Royal National Theatre in London, in 2001, was already reduced to 2 hours and 15 minutes. As with 78

Dundjerovich asserts that the solo was “one of a number of sponsored artistic endeavors intended to celebrate human achievements at the new millenium” (2007, 66). Canada’s Millenium Arts Fund awarded $200,000 in 1999 for the project. The initial intention was to devise a performance about the experience of Buzz Aldrin as the “second man to land on the moon, forever in the shadow of his more famous colleague, Neil Armstrong” (66), yet differences with Aldrin who “wanted to recreate events more according to his own rules, memories and priorities”(66) constituted an obstacle for Lepage’s creative intentions and lead to a refocusing on personal mythology and autobiographical elements in relation to “the humanity’s obsession with space travel”(67). For more details on the matter see Dundjerovics The Theatricality … pp 66-67. For a further description of the devising process see pp. 68-70. 79 For a complete list of tours, see Appendix A. 80 For a complete list of awards see Appendix B.

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Needles and Opium and Elsinore, two years after the solo’s opening, Lepage decided to find a replacement for himself. The well-known Québécois film and theatre actor Yves Jacques was chosen for the role and Lepage spent a period of time reworking the performance to fit in the particular abilities of the actor .81 As suggested before, critical response to The Far Side of the Moon was enthusiastic from the start. La Presse reviewer Marc Cassivi declared: Il y a du génie dans La face cachée de la Lune, le one man show […] parfaitement calibré à un peu plus de deux heures – est peut-être la plus autobiographique des œuvres de l'homme de théâtre et de cinéma. […] Présenté à la manière d'un spectacle d'humour à sketches, avec très peu d'accessoires et un éclairage minimaliste ” (2000, emphasis in original).82

Equally enthusiastic, Robert Cushman in “Lepage Returns to Dazzling Form” (2000) considered the main theme of the solo to be “the relationship between humanity and technology” and acknowledged the director’s mastery in placing “humanity lovingly and touchingly” at the heart of the “hi-tech landscape” created on stage. The critic underlined also the “witty qualities” of the text – “part Woody Allen, part Glenn Gould” – and their seamless integration into the show as a novel accomplishment for Lepage. Thuy-Tien Nguyen-Dang in “Du Cosmos et des Hommes” (2000) maintained that, right from the start, the quality of the mise-en-scene charmed even the most difficult spectator, arresting the gaze through the images created on stage. The cleverness of the medial interplay and the technical precision in execution generated an atmosphere rather strange and absorbing, in which the audience plunged immediately, the critic suggested. Nguyen-Dang concluded that the public “est sorti subjugué, ensorcelé, conquis, et surtout pantois devant les tourbillons de notre existence, véritables trous noirs du cosmos intérieur, de même que devant l’infini écrasant de l’espace et de l’univers”83 (2000). Gilles Costaz 81

The program for Le Maillon-Wacken Théâtre de Strasbourg (17-21 December 2002) praised Yves Jacques for his international reputation as an actor performing both on stage and in films, with an exceptional plasticity, emotional and bodily expressivity. 82 In English: “There's genius in The Far Side of the Moon, this one man show [...] perfectly calibrated to little more than two hours – is perhaps the most autobiographical work of the theatre and cinema artist. [...] Presented in the manner of a humorous sketch show, with very few accessories and minimalist lighting” (author’s trans.). 83 In English: “came out subdued, bewitched, conquered, and especially speechless in front of the vortexes of our existence, true black holes of the inner cosmos, as if

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in “Robert Lepage superstar” argued that Lepage had “le génie de la fabrication du dessin, de l’utopie des formes”84 (2001) and claimed that the solo was yet another proof that Lepage was the creator of a new, filmic language in theatre that lead spectators from one surprise to another. Joyce McMillan in “The Far Side of the Moon” (2001) discussed the contemporary needs of the audience for “more slick, spectacular and convincing visual experiences,” emphasized theatre’s distinctive capacity to bring closer “the slow rhythm of human intimacy in the presence of a single performer in front of the audience” (2001) and maintained that Lepage’s solo came closer than any other performance seen by her to that point “to resolving that conundrum of what 21st century theatre should be” (2001). McMillan suggests that the show: [B]ombards the audience with a barrage of powerful and beautiful visual images, involving old television footage of the Soviet Space programme, the complex mingling of live action and video images and the swivelling of a huge wall of mirrors. But despite its often dazzling use of technology, at heart this is the simplest of the shows (2001).

Michael Billington in “Another Giant Leap for Lepage” (2001) stated that the mise-en-scene lended everyday life objects a transforming poetry, the washer-dryer’s circular aperture became “the equivalent of Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit hole” and highlighted that all the ingenious mise-enscene effects were in the service of the notion that contraries could by synthesized, thus “forging unexpected connections and appealing simultaneously to hearts and minds” (2001). Steven Winn in “‘Moon’ Shines Bright. Solo Play Ponders Inner and Outer Space” (2001) described the solo as “intimate as a diary and capacious as space itself” and argued that the performance touched “the mind and heart with an artistry so sure it disappears” (2001) providing the spectator – much like Philippe’s dance in the final scene – with a “giddy sensation, blissfully free from the selfimportant gravity of so much experimental theatre” (2001). The version performed by Yves Jacques, premiered in September 2001, had an equally positive critical response, bringing very similar reactions to the ones outlined above. In addition Karen Fricker in “When the Words Fly Off Lepage” (2003) observed the new input brought in by Jacques:

in front of the overwhelming infinity of the space and the universe” (author’s trans.) 84 In English: “ the genious of designing formal utopias” (author’s trans.).

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In discussing the scenic apparatus and its uses throughout the solo, Ludovic Fouquet suggests that “La face cachée réunit Vinci et Elseneur, le jeu et la vidéo qui double le personnage, tout en jouant de l’envers du dispositif”85 (2002, 302). Monteverdi highlights the narrative reoccurrence of the mirror theme – already tackled in Vinci – i.e. the friend that committed suicide – and in Needles and Opium – i.e. Cocteau and Davis’ parallel love and loss stories – yet she argues that the theme is more explicitly and extensively developed here, through the use of technology and the scenographic set-up, designed to highlight and enrich the metaphorical possibilities of the mirror, both as a theme and as a medial element to be explored (2003, 2). In conclusion, the critical response to The Far Side of the Moon underlines the apparent seamlessness of the intermedial configurations performed on stage, with a special focus on the subtlety of the medial interplay, the enhanced quality of the narrative – via text, in this instance – as well as the impeccable functioning of the scenic apparatus, and highlight that all these aspects contribute to a particular impact in terms of spectatorship. The scenic space takes further some of the medial explorations of the previous solos and of Seven Streams of the River Ota (1994). A set of charcoal grey sliding panels “reveals precise, tightly composed pictures of interior space – a closet, an apartment, an empty seminar room” (Winn 2001), or provides the reflective-projective support for a metaphorically construed outer space, accomplished through an intertwining of aesthetic conventions and techniques that pertain to the theatrical and the cinematic. The scenic configuration is rectangular, reminding of the cinemascope86 and discreetly engendering a spectatorial mode inclined towards film viewing. Its theatrical nature is nevertheless emphasized recurrently through its metamorphic qualities, revealed by the mise-en-scene. The surfaces that compose the set become opaque and reflective in turn, 85

In English: “The Far Side… reunites Vinci and Elsinore, the acting and the video that doubles the character, while playing the back of the device” (author’s trans.). 86 The rectangular scenic space does not have stage-depth as in traditional theatre and therefore the usual vanishing point in naturalist theatre, according to the rules of the Albertian window, is here modified depending on the needs of the staging, yet always aiming to engender discreetly the impression of the cinematic.

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depending on the needs of the action on stage. The mirror – a potentially spectacular element in any theatrical apparatus – is explored here both thematically and formally, via material gestures. Thus, one can state that the hybridization between the cinematic and the theatrical in terms of scenic design and its performance reaches mastery in The Far Side of the Moon, and creates a quasi-continuous sense of proximity in spectatorship typical for film, in spite of the fact that the actual material distance between audience and stage is kept quite traditional in line with theatre conventions. As in the previous solos, a minimal number of objects pertaining to everyday life: a mirror, a telephone, a book-shelf, a rolling chair, a trolley, an iron board, etc., are used as props or set elements that help configure the various scenic realities in which the narrative unfolds, and, at the same time, create an impression of cine-verité, realized on stage with theatrical means. Thus, the mise-en-scene reveals transformative qualities for the objects and underlines their theatricality, in the context of the solo. The light design complements sensorially and thematically the impression of cinematic veridicity through a sequential design which divides the scene in several areas, lit either in turn or in various combinations, and through the occasional use of “practical lighting” – i.e. desk lamp. Moreover, the light design leaves always a part of the stage in the dark, thus discreetly maintaining present in spectatorial consciousness the thematic exploration of the shadowy/far side of the moon in relation to the human psyche. The impression of cine-vérité is further augmented by the use of (hidden) microphones, which, in combination with the understated acting – i.e. subtle nuances in interpretation, low-volume delivery, numerous “uhmms” and “aahs” – create the sensation of intimacy and emotional proximity typical of the cinematic experience, altering the distance in spectatorship in a manner that reminds of Needles and Opium, especially in terms of the intimate atmosphere during the monologues. In addition to the amplification of the performer’s voice, the sounds design contains original soundscapes – i.e. Led Zeppelin’s famous Dazed and Confused (1975) and documentary excerpts from the Soviet space launch – and background sound – i.e. airplane engine noise, fitness hall white noise, motorbike sounds, etc. – meant to locate the scenes temporally and geographically. Through the contextualization they propose, all aural elements aim to contribute to the impression of authenticity of the inner and/or outer spaces explored by the narrative. The original musical score composed by Laurie Anderson especially for the solo is also employed in a cinematic manner, providing support for the exploration of the deeper

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emotional aspects of the story. One can state that the aural landscape, in its entirety, contributes significantly to the creation of a discreetly cinematic perspective, as part of the intermedial narrative, adding to the impression of immediacy and emotional proximity sought in terms of spectatorship. For the live video projections – frontal as well as rear – a more complex apparatus is used, yet this is far less visible than in previous solos, especially compared to Elsinore. Fouquet describes in minute detail the technical complexity of the apparatus employed for the live feed: Dans ‘La face cachée’, on retrouve ces mêmes projecteurs VHS (Sony, LC color, vidéoprojecteur, LC 300): trois appareils non destinés à la scène, pas toujours assez lumineux pour des projections sur fond noir, comme c’est le cas dans ce spectacle- mais la qualité même de l’image n’est pas le souci du travail vidéo que propose cette pratique. Quatre caméras encadrent ou occupent le plateau: Philippe utilise un simple caméscope AI 8 (Sony), qui est aussi placé sur pieds et rails derrière le décor. Grand public, mais moins courantes, trois caméras de surveillance (mesurant trois centimètres par trois !) sont camouflées dans le dispositif. C’est un matériel qu’utilisé le FBI ou la CIA puer leur filature, trouvé via Internet, encore plus petit que la mini Panasonic d’Elseneur. Utilisée en noir et blanc (comme celle installée derrière la table à repasser), cette camera n’a besoin que d’un dixième de lux pour enregistrer des images- il faut entre quatre et cinq lux pour la couleur, mais cela entraîne de nombreuses contraintes (2002, 314).87

The order of the scenes, according to the official manuscript,88 is: (1) “Prologue,” (2) “Presentation de these,” (3) “Old folks home,” (4) “Léonov en voix ‘off,’” (5) ”Météo,” (6) “Déjeuné avec André,” (7) “SETI interview T.V,” (8) “Tour guidé,” (9) “Gym,” (10) “Work at home,” (11) “Jealousy bar,” (12) “Système solaire,” (13) “Visite chez le médecin,” (14) 87

In English: “ In The Far Side… we find the same VHS projectors (Sony, LC color, video projector, LC 300): three projectors not designed for stage use, not always bright enough for the projections on black [surfaces], as it is the case here, but the quality of the image is not the concern of the video work in this instance. Four cameras ‘frame’ or occupy the scenic space: Philippe uses a simple AI 8 camcorder (Sony), which is also placed on a tripod and on rails behind the set. For the general public, but less visible, three cameras (measuring 3 X3 centimetres !) are hidden within the set. This is material used by the FBI or CIA in surveillance, found via the Internet, even smaller than the mini Panasonic from Elsinore. Used in black and white (like the camera installed behind the ironing board), this camera needs only a tenth of Lux to record images, it takes between four and five Lux for color, yet this leads to many constraints” (author’s trans.). 88 According to Ex Machina archive, the text was updated in August 2001.

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“Dark side of the moon (ascenseur),” (15) “Lunar rover,” (16) “Philippe à mobylette, Acide room,” (17) “T.V. Éclipse (Satellite),” (18) “Brainscan,” (19) “Aeroflot,” (20) “Salle de conference,” (21) “Lake of death” and (22) “Apesanteur.”89 Two imposing grey panels, inclined on a discrete angle and bordered by neon lights, constitute the pre-show configuration. They suggest elusively a spaceship and – through their mirroring qualities – invite audiences to tune in into the observance mode and scrutinize their own pre-show habitudes. A discrete yet strange violin melody with Asian undertones and the ever so slow rotation of the panels to their vertical position, to configure the rectangular scenic space, ease the spectator into the solo. The performer, dimly lit – lights focused only on the upper-half of his body, in a filmic “close-up” manner – is revealed standing centrestage, almost engulfed by the “outer space” darkness created on stage. He speaks to the audience in direct address and outlines, using historical examples, man’s centuries old interest for the Moon as a mirror of the Earth only to then fixate his discourse upon the Soviet and American conquests, suggesting that the two endeavours shifted the humankind’s perception upon the Earth’s natural satellite by revealing its more obscure part and concluding that this constitutes the focus of the solo’s exploration. The introductory speech – “The Prologue” – is delivered in a scientific lecture manner that counterbalances the sensation of cinematic intimacy engendered by the scenic configuration. Thus, both the premises of the narrative to ensue and the intermedial coordinates for the journey into inner and outer space are set and the characters’ emotional voyage through uncharted territory ready to start, while another space reconfiguration occurs aiming to transport the spectator from the world of scientific and philosophical enquiry into everyday life. The panel behind the performer rotates and moves upstage, revealing the waiting room of a laundromat, figured by a row of chairs aligned against the grey panel wall, a basket of dirty clothes, a drinking water supply dispositive and the washer-dryer window enclosed centrally into the panel wall. We see Philippe – one of the protagonists – pensively inserting dirty clothes into the washer-dryer, closing the window, setting 89 In English: (1) “Prologue” (2) “Presentation of Thesis,” (3) “Old Folks Home,” (4) “Leonov in Voice-off” (5) “Weather forecast,” (6) “Lunch with André” (7) “SETI TV Interview,” (8) “Guided Tour,” (9) “Gym” (10) “Work at Home,” (11) “Jealousy Bar” (12) “Solar System,” (13) “Visiting the Doctor, ” (14) “Dark Side of the Moon (Lift),” (15) “Lunar Rover,” (16) “Philippe on Moped; Acid Room,” (17) “TV Eclipse (Satellite),” (18) “Brainscan,” (19) “Aeroflot,” (20) “Conference Room,” (21) “Lake of Death” and (22) “Zero Gravity” (author’s trans.).

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up “the machine,” then taking a seat and waiting, absorbed in his own thoughts, while clothes are spinning. The gestures of the performer, the real-time rhythm of movements, the image of the clothes spinning, as well as the sounds of washing machine superimposed on Laurie Anderson’s atmospheric music, all create an impression of cinematic veridicity and proximity, counter-balanced only by the dim light configuration, reminding of the theatrical. While Philippe is sat waiting, the circular aperture turns seamlessly into a projection screen. A video image of the Moon and the credits of the solo roll on the panel next to the performer, supported by Anderson’s eerie music. The cinematic mode takes precedence in terms of spectatorship. A long cross-fade of sound ensuing at the end of the credits moment brings again to attention the washing machine sounds, whilst the music fades out completely. Philippe stands now in front of the circular aperture, stares for a while at the images metamorphosing one into another – a video morphing of images of clothes and the Moon – then stops the washer-dryer, takes out the clothes and leans inside the circular aperture suggesting an attempt to fully enter that space, to let himself be absorbed by it. A phosphorescently green light coming from inside the aperture creates the impression of the depth of a space capsule. Archival documentary sounds from the Soviet Sputnik launch (1975) increase in intensity and pace and complete the suggestion of a space shuttle launch. The sensation of surprise is increased further by the metamorphosing of the scenic space at sight through the lateral movement of one of the panels towards right-stage, configuring the illusion that the space-capsule has taken off, however, not on the vertical as seen in all media coverage, but on the horizontal. Thus the stereotypical/iconic image of space shuttle launch is deconstructed and reconfigured through a change in visual perspective, underlining the entire moment as a spectacular, intermedial mise-en-scene effect designed not only for spectatorial enchantment, but with clear diegetic intentions. Whilst providing insight into Philippe’s inner world, the moment suggests, at the same time, metaphorical associations between the character and the Soviet team of cosmonauts. The moment is realised through the hybridization and intertwining of elements pertaining to the cinematic, the theatrical and the videatic, and produces, as it unfolds, an increasing sensation of intimacy, counterbalanced only by the last stage effect, which prompts medial awareness and thus engenders the sensation of hypermediacy, leading to an unsettling of perception and a shift in spectatorial distance. A short blackout provides the transition to the next scene; the stage is again reconfigured through another sliding movement of the panels.

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Scene 2 – “Presentation de these” – offers a discrete change in terms of atmosphere. The set now suggests the amphitheatre of a university, where Philippe defends his doctoral thesis using spectators as the “defence audience.” Thus spectators are given momentarily an additional role in the solo, with added metaphorical suggestions. Philippe’s presentation argues that all spatial explorations of the twentieth century were motivated not by intellectual curiosity, but by narcissism, and uses as main theoretical argument the findings of Russian engineer and pioneer of “cosmonaut theory” Konstantin Tsolkovsky. The content, the delivery mode and the stage action – Philippe develops his argument whilst nervously drawing and writing (with chalk) formulae on the central panel – underline the impression of cinematic realism, realized on stage with theatre means, while a discrete comical touch, particularly theatrical, is added to the mixture, reminding the spectators discreetly of the intermedial nature of the mise-en-scene. In addition, at the beginning of the scene, a stage effect is performed. The circular aperture with the clothes rotating inside appears again, yet this time on the panel on other side of the stage. The visual effect acts as a diegetic filmic connector and is highlighted by stage lighting for a few moments, before the focus shifts to Philippe and his complicated academic argumentation. The transition to Scene 3 – “Old folks home” – is quick; the two scenes almost morph. A highly pitched beeping sound suggesting both an elevator and a spaceship occurs repeatedly, superimposed on the live sounds produced by the panels sliding. Lights are again dimmed and tightly focused – as in a filmic close-up – on the upper-half of the actor’s body, now turned with the back to the audience. The panels slide laterally like the doors of an elevator. Philippe steps out on a strip of light suggesting the corridor of a building and heads towards his mother’s apartment. Panels close behind him, again like the doors of an elevator. Then another panel slides right-stage, to the side, revealing first the hallway of an apartment and then Philippe talking over the phone with his brother, André. Only the acting space is lit. The entire sequence recreates on stage a filmic perspective upon the narrative, yet again employing predominantly theatrical means. Through the sequential light design, in direct relation to the action unfolding, the filmic editing process is performed live, creating a discrete yet persistent sensation of medial inbetween-ness that impacts on spectatorship. During Philippe’s mundane conversation with his brother, a dialogue about handling their mother’s personal belongings, the right-stage panel slides almost seamlessly further right and reveals yet another part of the apartment, bringing more detail – traces of their mother’s “everyday life” – into the space and the narrative,

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thus pushing further emotional proximity in terms of spectatorship. The movement of the panel in combination with the stage acting reminds of a slow “travelling” movement and constitutes a further exploration of the cinematic conventions of storytelling with the use of theatrical means. However, the movements of the scenic apparatus described above are not the only means to provide discrete medial awareness. The humorous content and the performing style make subtle reference to stand-up comedy conventions. Thus, the intermedial vein of the solo is maintained, always using slightly different means, yet achieving a similarly discrete effect in terms of spectatorship. The sensation of immediacy once achieved is discretely challenged by the hypermediacy effects brought forward by the image projections and the movements of the scenic apparatus at sight, subjecting the spectator to a subtle yet quasi-constant alternation of distance in perception, and keeping her/his attention awake and focused on the multiple diegetic levels. Scene 4 – Léonov en voix ‘off’” – comes after a sudden and relatively short blackout and is introduced by syncopated music reminding of suspense moments in action movies. Alexey Leonov – the first Russian/Soviet cosmonaut to perform a space walk – is “composed”/embodied on stage by a mannequin, dressed in a Soviet military coat, and a hat. The sleeves of the coat and the hat are manipulated from behind by the performer’s unseen double. Lights are again exclusively focused on the upper-half of the body. Leonov’s movements – as he introduces himself to the audience – and his militarily precise exposé of the Soviet spatial conquest are presented in a fast-paced, puppetry-like manner, following the rhythm of the supporting music. Leonov’s speech is, in fact, delivered through voice-off – another cinematic convention employed – and enhanced in intensity; sound is more amplified than in previous scenes. In terms of delivery, minute attention is paid to details such as intonation and the effective, discreetly humorous use of a Russian accent. All elements that compose the moment (and the character) overtly concur to create the impression of veridicity and life-like-ness, yet the spectator is constantly aware of the existence of an unseen manipulator and of the fact that the entire moment is an imaginative stage effect playing with notions with literalness and precision and deconstructing them as the scene unfolds. Thus, although the impression of human presence is created through the swift manipulation of props and costume, this very sensation is de-constructed by the awareness of the “stage-effect” nature of the moment and its mediatized elements. At the end of the scene, right before the blackout, the coat is taken off the mannequin, in full sight. Thus, the theatrical stage effect is reconfirmed

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and the intermedial moment highlighted as such, creating a discrete distancing effect in spectatorship. Archival sounds of space launch are then superimposed on the music in crescendo. Cinematic conventions of transition from one sequence to another are used (again) in order to build up spectatorial expectations and attention. Scene 5 – “Météo” – adds another layer to the narrative by introducing André “in action,” as he delivers the daily weather forecast on TV. The central panel is now used as a green screen for projecting the computerized weather forecast map, which supports visually André’s speech. All elements contributing to the scene – costume, backstage light, speech content and delivery style, interaction with the screen – concur to enhance the impression of authenticity, of a live TV studio and transmission. Its live staging alters spectatorship, inclining this time the balance towards a hybrid between the theatrical and televisual modes of observance and bringing in an effect of discrete surprise meant to stimulate further notions of familiarity, enhance the feeling of proximity for the spectators. Scene 6 – “Déjeuné avec André” – morphs in seamlessly. The projection disappears as André swiftly turns to profile and continues talking. The rhythm of speech delivery remains consistent while the rightstage area is lit and reveals a mobile table with a portable TV set and an iron board; Philippe’s apartment. André addresses Philippe whose presence, albeit not material, is convincingly evoked via set design details, the monologue’s construction and the performer’s body language. The content of the monologue is, in fact, a long sequence of patronizing brotherly advice on life given by the successful, self-confident, down-toearth sibling to the un-accomplished looser/dreamer. Through its structure and delivery, its simplicity and directness, comical undertones and character mannerisms, the scene reconfirms the solo’s medial engagement with the theatrical. The transition to Scene 7 – “SETI Interview TV” – is, as one would expect, seamlessly realized. The performer exits as André, stage-right. The flickering light cast by the TV-set becomes more prominent during the gradual change of lights, the amplified sounds of a TV broadcast, in voiceoff, increase. A few seconds later, the performer re-enters as Philippe and starts to iron a shirt, while absent-mindedly watching a TV show about the launch of the SETI project. A call for projects is made to select ten of the best “home-made videos” about the human civilization. Videos are to be sent in outer space in order to establish communication with potential extra-terrestrial beings. The initial scene transition, the scene’s stage configuration and the further unfolding of the domestic actions performed by Philippe, including his decision to participate in the SETI project,

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happen in real-time, in a manner reminding of the cinematic. Moreover, Philippe’s decision to take out his old video camera from the closet figured by a panel that slides revealing a storage space references also diegetic film transitions. However, all the above are realised with theatre means. The combination of the cinematic and theatrical ensures the impression of discrete medial “in-between-es” in terms of spectatorial perception. Scene 8 – “Tour guide” – morphs into the previous one. Electronic music, suggestive of attempts to communicate in an alien language by distorting and echoing human voice, fills the scenic space in blackout for a moment, providing a psychological preparation for what is to follow. With the camera in his hand, Philippe starts a tour of his own apartment, describing for the aliens – with childish humour and irony – the uses of different rooms and their main constitutive elements in relation to contemporary habitudes of everyday life. The character enters the different spaces (i.e. bedroom, living room, kitchen, etc.) by sliding panels. The stage light focuses on the “doors” as symbolic gateways to the different mundane realities narrated. All “doors” are figured through the movement of the panels, enhancing the impression of filmic conventions, realized on stage with theatrical means. A space of memory – personal as well as collective, of the humankind – is, thus, evoked. The closet door, once opened, becomes also a pretext for Philippe’s recollection of his first visual memory of his mother and triggers a need to cope with the emotional loss by embodying/performing her. The character steps into his mother’s red shoes, slowly puts on a trench coat, wraps a scarf around his head and becomes the mother, young, in the 1960s. Nostalgic jazz music fades in softly, in anticipation. Stage lights fill in the entire scenic area, panels slide together slowly to recompose the panel/wall and the washerdryer aperture becomes again visible centre-stage. A trolley taken out from the storage space becomes a laundromat trolley. The performer-as-theyoung-mother, with the back to the audience, opens slowly the window of the washer-dryer taking out first a set of clothes, then a baby-size cosmonaut – a puppet – with a long umbilical cord, which he/she slowly and gently removes. The moment that follows narrates visually the sensual relationship between a mother and her new-born baby. The discreetly choreographed actions reference motherly love and care. The theme of the mother and that of the Moon are, thus, reunited and, in fact, hybridized on stage for the first time, through an intermedial moment that combines elements of puppetry, dance and physical theatre, in addition to the cinematic. The scene shifts gradually and seamlessly from the cinematic mode of observance to one related to a more complex medial interplay, which engenders the sensations of surprise and delight suggested by

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reviewers. Immediacy gives slowly way to hypermediacy and an alternation in distance in spectatorship is, again, provoked in a subtle, yet unexpected manner. At the end of the moment, the panels rotate towards the front, “engulfing” the actor, and the entire scenic space becomes a discrete thematic reminder of the immensity of the outer space. The neon lights slide to the forefront whilst, above them, the cosmonaut baby/puppet makes its first steps, manipulated at sight by horizontal strings, as if being “launched” into space. The convention of space launch is explored here further from an unexpected perspective – i.e. horizontal – as the narrative unfolds by means of puppetry. The analogy between the motherly figure and the Moon comes in conjunction with the analogy baby – cosmonaut, for the first time in the solo, turning this particular scene into a nodal point diegetically, thematically and sensorially, whilst reiterating the intermedial nature of the mise-en-scene.

Fig. 4-4. The mother embodied…

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Scene 9 – “Gym” – starts with the reconfiguration of the scenic space into a fitness hall, shaped through the appearance and downstage movement of a set of mirror panels. Centre-stage, the iron board (from Scene 6) is suggestively transformed at sight into a fitness apparatus through the performer’s movements. In spite of the playful conventionality of the proposition, highlighting theatre’s mediality, the impression of veridicity of location is achieved via a combination of gestural language – Philippe scrutinizes himself in the mirror as he attempts to exercise –, and contextual noise effects – a mixture of metal sounds and background voices that evoke a busy fitness hall. The entire scene constitutes itself as a comedic intermezzo, while maintaining consistency in terms of medial inbetween-ness, of hybridity between the cinematic and the theatrical. Scene 10 – “Work at home” – is introduced by atmospheric music similar to the one used for “The Prologue.” The lights on stage are dim and focused on the performer only. The scene shows Philippe seated at his workplace desk, trying to sell subscriptions for a local newspaper, over the phone. We learn that, by accident, he comes across an ex-lover and the “catch-up” becomes a pretext to wallow in self-pity about his mother’s death and be made aware, one more time, of his social inadequacy. Philippe escapes emotional frustration by “building” a miniature spaceship using objects at hand on his desk: a thermos of coffee, cups, and a pen; all put one on top of the other. Once the spaceship is ready, the entire stage becomes an extension of Philippe’s imagination and the launch of the Apollo mission is re-enacted via a childish play with the everyday objects and added documentary sound material – the dialogue between the Apollo crew – delivered by the stage sound system in a gradually amplified manner to the point to which it becomes all pervasive on stage. The new intermedial configuration – merging elements of the theatrical, the televisual and the cinematic – is performed gradually, with all its medial elements at sight. Left-stage, on the TV monitor, video images with two American astronauts that look very much like puppets manipulated by an unseen hand illustrate the preparations for the space shuttle launch, while on the circular aperture, now again visible, the image of washing clothes rotating inside the washer-dryer morphs into a colourful video image of the Earth seen from the Moon. The actual “launch” happens, of course, only in the imagination of the spectators, yet this is (undoubtedly) activated and supported by the combination of all material elements introduced sequentially on stage and the amplified audio documentary material. Scene 11 – “Jealousy bar” – offers yet another metamorphosis of the scenic space as it provides a diegetic jump-forward. The performer, as

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Philippe, now centre-stage and facing the audience, sits behind a shiny dark bar counter that shows his upper-body reflection upside down in continuation of the real body. The mirroring theme is brought to the forefront, staged exclusively by means of theatrical imagery and scenic apparatus. Above the performer’s head, a round watch indicates a late hour of night; the same circular aperture as for the washer-dryer is used. Sat on an unseen barstool and smoking a cigarette, Philippe passes time talking to an unseen and apparently unsympathetic bartender, while waiting to meet Alexey Leonov, the Russian cosmonaut (presented in Scene 4). He tries to overcome his feelings of inadequacy and anticipation by bombarding the bartender with extensive knowledge of space conquests, philosophical and unwillingly humorously digressions on related subjects – i.e. the cosmos, cosmic endeavours, the jealousy between the Soviets and the Americans – only to end – unwillingly, of course – by expressing his own (childish) jealousy towards André, his successful twin brother. The monologue is performed in discrete comedic crescendo and supported aurally by a repetitive song, “elevator music” type, which locates the action in a modern, corporate hotel bar context. Stage lights are focused exclusively on the performer, highlighting his upside-down reflection at all times and facilitating interpretive associations related to the theme of mirroring throughout. Philippe’s outburst of jealousy reaches a climactic point only to be abruptly interrupted by a sudden change of light and atmosphere that suggests the bar’s closing time. The stage is lit entirely, the neon lights above the panel are turned on and the “elevator music” stops suddenly. Philippe refuses to leave, fighting absurdly yet endearingly humanly against the feeling of ridiculousness that overwhelms him. To assert himself, he stands up and resorts to his brother’s bodily posture and verbally successful strategies. For a few moments, on the performer’s body, the images of the two brothers are superimposed live, while the reflecting surface of the bar counter casts the hybrid image upside down, in continuation of the material body. The themes of mirroring and hybridization are, thus, reunited, intertwined and overtly connected to the theme of perception. Although tackled here via theatrical means only, through enhanced visuality, perception becomes integrated into the intermedial construction of the solo. The comedic vein, developed gradually in the previous scenes, reaches a peak at this particular point in the solo’s construction and contributes to the re-configuration of coordinates of distance in spectatorship, further underlining the theatricality of the moment. This will, nevertheless, be challenged the very next moment by a new visual effect meant to secure the transition to the next scene whilst furthering the narrative. On Philippe’s tempestuous exit

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stage-right, the scene turns to blackout, while the dialogue between the members of Apollo crew is resumed in voice-off. Above the panel located stage-right an impressive image of the full moon is projected onto the background. In front of it, a toy spaceship pulled by discreetly visible strings traverses horizontally the entire stage. The miniaturized image of the shuttle and the use of puppetry provide yet another switch in terms of visual perspective, both in terms of size and angle, thus reversing in a playful manner, and with childish comedic undertones, the proportions of viewing on stage and, at the same time, building further associative/ metaphorical connections regarding the mirroring theme, which now include both brothers and the two rival space conquest teams. Scene 12 – “Système solaire” – brings the action back in time, and into Philippe’s room. Stage-right, the iron board, the TV set (turned off this time), the fishbowl and a set of coloured stones collected by André during childhood, as we will find out. Philippe continues the making of his “home-made” video. In his attempt to provide precise directions to the Earth for any potential extra-terrestrial beings, the protagonist configures on the iron board a map of the solar system using the coloured stones. His physical actions are accompanied by verbal explanations on a sweet-sour quasi-scientific tone, again the character becomes unwillingly humorous, while on the panel wall behind clothes spin in the washer-dryer throughout the entire speech, a suggestive and rather playful metaphor of inner turmoil. In his speech, the character attempts to connect past, present and future, the personal and the collective, while striving to make his complicated, convoluted, digressive theoretical approach intelligible to aliens. One stone reminds him, for instance, of his mother’s health problems during his childhood and becomes a pretext to reminisce about his own sight problems and then a hint towards his incoming visit to the doctor (which will make the object of the following scene). The relationship with memory is construed with theatrical means, yet following cinematic conventions of narration. The incursion into the world of personal recollections is staged through the transformative use of props (in this case stones) that become a miniaturized version of the solar system and act as a diegetic connector. Once more the medial pattern established by the mise-en-scene through the gradual composition of the intermedial configuration which will then perform on stage just in order to be deconstructed at sight at the end of the scenes paves the way towards an enhanced emotional, intellectual and sensorial experience that, also, takes the solo further diegetically. The re-enactment of memories is accomplished through this intricate yet almost seamless, in terms of perception, hybridization of medial conventions that benefits from a

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discrete multi-medial aid: the background projection of the image filmed live. Scene 13 – “Visite chez le médecin” – blends in without any stage transition, attempting to suggest a further dive into memory, in filmic manner, yet realised with theatre means. A panel behind the performer slides to reveal a new space: the doctor’s room. The performer sits on a chair, impersonating the neurologist during consultation. Meanwhile, we see on the circular aperture, slightly distorted, tight close-up details of the doctor’s head, as if seen through the troubled eyes of the child Philippe. An interrogation of visual perception in connection to emotion and memory is thus proposed thematically. Then, in preparation for the brainscan, the two characters are superimposed on the performer’s body, creating a striking visual effect. The actor becomes the child wrapped in the patient robe and, at the same time, the doctor helping him to put on the robe. In addition, the outfit, as it is designed, stimulates imaginative associations with the astronaut costume. Philippe’s body sliding slowly headfirst into the brain-scan machine (signalled by the circular aperture) resembles an astronaut entering the spaceship. The brain-scan images projected on the aperture resemble, in their turn, images of the Moon, similar to those seen previously in the solo. Multiple meanings are, thus, superimposed, stimulated by the same image. The visual over-layering proposed by the mise-en-scene makes evident the hybridization of the two main themes of the solo, which were gradually interwoven until now. This new intermedial configuration puts metaphorically centre-stage the theme of perception in connection to emotions and implicitly engenders an effect upon the spectator. Immediacy and hypermediacy are, again, joined in perception. Scene 14 – “Dark side of the moon (ascenseur)” – is introduced by a long blackout and intense beeping sounds that ambiguously suggest a brain scanner, a spaceship or an elevator. When lights come back on stage, the interior of an elevator becomes visible centre-stage in the opening provided by the lateral sliding of the panels. André is stuck in there, next to the shelves he wanted to take as a souvenir from his mother’s apartment. The shelves – “the wall of shame” as they used to be called by their late mother – had been used to split the brothers’ room into two, separating them one from another, as we soon find out. At this very moment, the shelves are situated in the centre of the elevator, separating the space in two. Thus, through scenographic means, the recollection of a childhood situation is performed. The dim lights create a rather strange, uncomfortable atmosphere, counterbalanced only by the involuntary humour of the situation. Throughout the scene, André, visibly irritated by

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the situation and eager to return to the TV station for his daily forecast, attempts without success to escape the momentarily confinement by calling the porter, then his boyfriend Carl. Nobody seems to be able to help. A powercut occurs. Once the phone conversations end in failure, there’s nothing else left for him but wait and re-live one of the most unpleasant childhood memories. Scene 15 – “Lunar rover” – morphs in without any transition. André sits silently on the floor contemplating the shelves like a child. Aural spurs of childhood memories gradually fill in the space: bits of TV transmissions related to the moon conquest, the repetitive soft sounds of a musical box (the childhood souvenirs box), etc. The lights on stage dim to a minimum. The character lets himself transported into the world of memory, passes through the shelves to “the other side,” symbolically his older brother’s “sacred territory,” opens a box and finds a half-smoked marijuana cigarette which he starts smoking while Led Zeppelin’s well-known song Dazed and Confused fills in the space. What we see – as spectators – is a man lost in the dark, surrounded by smoke and rock music, attempting to liberate himself from the constraints of the grown-up world by re-enacting his sexual awakening. A liberation – then and now – artificially provoked, now abruptly interrupted by the sudden opening of the “elevator doors” – behind the shelves this time (!) – and the reoccurrence of the bright elevator lights. André is caught exposed, with his trousers down, in front of the audience, which, thus, becomes an intimate witness to the intimate memory moment. He recomposes himself slowly, looks around annoyed and exits pushing the shelves out of the elevator, while stage lights turn to blackout again. The ridicule of the situation felt by André, in combination with the change of lights provokes a sudden distancing in spectatorship; a typical theatrical effect of surprise is being played here. A similar mise-enscene strategy, of gradual development of an intermedial configuration in relation to memory is performed in this scene, as before, with similar effects in terms of spectatorship and diegetics. The difference is that the focus of sensorial exploration is now on the aural aspects of perception in connection to memory. Scene 16 – “Philippe à mobylette, Acide room” – brings back on stage the other brother, who continues the making of his video destined to extraterrestrial beings whilst, at the same time recollects his own – very different, and revelatory of the cosmos – experience of the same evening that made the subject of diving into the past for André. The panels compose a wall, used here as a panoramic screen for video projection. Philippe fixes his camera on the iron-board, now turned upside down to become a snow-motorbike, moves the whole “installation” centre-stage

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and starts to simulate a ride, supported by the gradually amplified sound effects of an old motorbike engine. On the panoramic screen behind, jolting images of the Plains of Abraham (situated on the outskirts of Québec-City) and then of the forest in winter are projected, as if filmed live by Philippe’s camera. The images projected panoramically are realized through the live superimposition and synchronization, using computerized software, of two separate video image projections, with a slight time and horizon delay between them (Fouquet 2002, 334). The video image that results resembles the negative of a filmic image, revealing the trees in white against a blackened background, with strange fork and spoon-like snowy shapes on them. The trees thus seem X-rayed, an effect that enhances the eerie, unexpected beauty of the image performed and potentially stimulates associations with the medical aspects of the narrative surrounding Philippe. Whilst re-enacting his motorbike ride, Philippe evokes the evening of December 11 1972 during which he had contemplated the stars from the Plains of Abraham and, as he rides, he remembers that this happened at the very same time when the Apollo 17 mission reached the surface of Moon. The monologue also evokes the stellar sky configuration of that night, which led to an epiphany for the protagonist, regarding his place in the Universe. Meanwhile layers as translucent as a fog enrich the image projected. Clouds appear to be gradually filling the image, in thicker and thicker layers, until they cover the entire landscape projected. The panoramic image becomes, thus, like an expanded version of a TV screen with no broadcast. The video then fades out simultaneously with a change of focus, achieved via stage lighting. The intermedial moment described above is construed through an intricate superimposition of the “live” and “mediatized:” the shadowy figure of the performer on the improvised motorbike, the multi-layered video recording delivered via live feed, the aural support of the amplified sound of a motorbike engine and the performer’s voice, discreetly amplified live. The impact upon spectatorship is multi-sensorial and provokes simultaneously both the sensations of immediacy and of hypermediacy. Immediacy is engendered as the audience is immersed in the atmospheric, surprising and multi-layered narrative that recollects the particular moment in Philippe’s life and, therefore, stimulated to identify emotionally with the character. Hypermediacy occurs based on the combined visual and aural overload and the fact that the mise-en-scene reveals – albeit only partially, in this instance – the media employed in performance, providing awareness of its constitutive elements. Once the revelation of the “strange nature of the universe” and – one could argue – of the even stranger ways of human perception is performed, both in terms

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of narrative and as an effect upon spectatorship, another change of atmosphere and tempo occurs. The video projection fades swiftly to black. Philippe alights the motorbike and moves upstage, while the panels slide to reveal again André’s half of the elevator (and suggestively half of the childhood room), now dimly lit from above. Philippe recalls returning home that night and finding his brother in his bed, wet and asleep from drugs. He remembers looking desperately for a solution to dry him. From this point onwards the narrative of the scene is carried further without words and another intermedial moment ensues. The two brothers are superimposed again, for a brief moment, on the body of the performer, and then, through bodily gestures and the re-occurrence of the circular aperture, stage-left on the panel wall, first as a screen for the projection of the Moon and then, through seamless morphing, as a washer-dryer window, it is suggested that Philippe took André in his arms and placed him inside the machine to wash him out of any trace of drugs. The intermedial narrative becomes apparent through the use of the body employed as a screen for the superimposition of the two characters, the movements of the scenic apparatus and the morphing of the projected image of the Moon into the live image of the washer-dryer spinning. The highly intricate visual intertwining of the live and mediatized is supported by sound effects meant to enhance awareness of the intense and strange emotions experienced by the older of the two brothers and, once the washer-dryer starts spinning, by illustrative sounds on which, superimposed, the second part of the Led Zeppelin song (used in the previous scene) gradually fills in the space. Stroboscope light fragments visually the movements of the performer as Philippe trying to insert his younger brother into the washing machine. Thus, the intermedially construed moment completes the symbolic reunification of the two brothers in an intensely emotional exploration of their separate teenage memories of the same evening, revealing to themselves and the audience the dark side of the psyche, an allusion to the title of the solo. On stage a moment of complete silence in blackout follows, marking the importance of this revelatory moment and offering spectators the possibility to absorb the input. Scene 17 – “T. V. Éclipse (Satellite)” – brings the narrative back to Philippe’s movie making process, now focused on the message addressed to extra-terrestrial beings. From the initial description of outer space, the speech now moves to the inner space, the space of recollection, of memory through poetry. Of the opinion that television can only provide a distorted mirror of human life on Earth, Philippe decides to recite an older, yet representative poem by Québécois writer Émile Nelligan (1879-1941),

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entitled “Devant deux portraits de ma mère.” The stage is dimly lit. The delivery of the poem is devoid of any stage effects and performed in an understated manner, supported by a discrete yet gradually increasing in intensity soundscape, meant to underline the anxiety of the character in front of the vanishing image of the mother. Scene 18 – “Brainscan” – provides a shift in terms of atmosphere and a momentarily distancing effect in spectatorship. The emotional intimacy of the poetry is replaced with the dry, almost clinical staging of the neurological test taken by Philippe, now adult. The central panels slide laterally to reveal the neurologist’s office: a table centre-stage and two chairs on the side. The performer impersonates the doctor in a white robe, standing in profile. A white cold stage light is focused exclusively on him. He talks to Philippe about the death of his mother, while he dryly checks previous medical results and makes preparations for the brain scan. The tone is neutral and professional, as expected. The neurologist reveals to Philippe that – according to his mother’s personal physician – her death had all the appearances of a suicide. From the neurologist’s reaction we understand that the news comes as a shock to the oversensitive and insecure Philippe, yet the scene does not explore further the emotional revelation. Then, once the preparations for the scan are completed, the performer switches roles at sight, becoming Philippe. He lies on the table face-up and slowly – through the movement of the set – his head is introduced into the circular aperture, now the brain scan apparatus. On the left side of the panel wall, moving images of the scan are projected. Suspense is built up through the use of atmospheric supporting music in combination with the projections and the bodily reactions of the live performer. Another emotionally unsettling suggestion is made: that the “secrets of the mind” (the dark side of the psyche) are now to be revealed scientifically, that the “cold truth” will be exposed. However what one sees projected is a moving image/picture of the brain that can be decoded only via human interpretation, which (ironically) does not happen throughout the scene, thus increasing the “mystery” of the image from a diegetic perspective, whilst keeping in line with the theme and title of the solo. This new intermedial effect is (also) enhanced by the lack of spoken words throughout the entire moment. After a long, pensive pause Philippe resumes the conversation with the neurologist. We find out that he already had brain surgery and therefore gather this was a check-up related to his confessed intention to fly to Moscow in order to pursue the invitation made by the Tsolkovsky Institute to deliver a lecture on his dissertation subject. The dialogue with the neurologist is performed in an understated (filmic) manner, without any assisting visual effects. The only effect

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pertains to theatrical conventions of narrative and punctuates dramatically the end of the scene right before the blackout occurs, when Philippe asks the doctor if what he had said about his mother’s death was certain. Scene 19 – “Aeroflot” – provides an exclusive focus on the visual. It illustrates Philippe’s flight to Moscow through a mixture of theatrical means – a slow reconfiguration of the scenic space combined with the performer’s equally slow, eerie gestures – and a suite of video images of the Earth from an airplane window, incorporated in the theatrical apparatus through their projection on the circular aperture used here (stage-right) as an airplane window. The discrete intermedial configuration is supported by a gradual intensification of the soundscape. Laurie Anderson’s atmospheric music, with its electronic quality, is meant to stimulate spectators to imagine a flight through space and, thus, make their own associative connections. The narrative, once more construed intermedially, overlays sensual suggestions of an imaginary journey through inner/ emotional as well as outer/material space. The end point of this journey that stimulates a dream-like mode of perception is however the conference room at the Tsolkovsky Institute in Moscow. The scenic space is reconfigured through the gradual sliding of the panels towards stage-right. A rectangular wide background area situated circa 50 centimetres above the floor and covered by a red curtain brightly lit from behind is revealed. The silhouette of a microphone is seen stage-right, superimposed on the curtain. Below the rectangular area, the stage lights reveal a big mirror, which, through reflection, defines a luminous zone on the floor defining the podium area of the Moscow auditorium. Stage-left, in front of the curtains, a row of empty chairs. Stage-right, on the wall next to the curtain, the image of the Moon appears again projected on the circular aperture. Philippe enters from behind the curtain, in a hurry. From his nervous gestures we understand that he is late, in fact, that he just missed his audience. However, as the microphone is still there and he came such a long way, he decides to deliver his speech anyway, even if to an absent or imagined audience only. The voice – ostensibly echoed through amplification – enhances the suggestion of a big, empty hall. Instead of a scientific lecture, Philippe delivers a monologue performed and, in fact, devised according to traditional conventions of naturalistic theatre, in which the existential anxiety and inner turmoil caused by the loss of his parent is fully expressed. From a dramatic point of view the scene appears to be the climactic moment of the performance. Yet, in the context of the solo’s already established diegetic and medial conventions, it is perceived as overly dramatic. The distance in spectatorship is, thus, once again reconfigured. After concluding the speech, Philippe exits through the red

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curtains, obviously defeated. Stage lights fade slowly to black, while the music, in a similarly dramatic vein as before, intensifies the emotional undertones of the moment. The stage is now empty. Only the image of the full moon remains projected on the circular aperture for a while and then becomes slowly and gradually covered/eclipsed until the point where only a hint of its upper/luminous side can be perceived. Thus the dark/far side of the Moon and of the human psyche are both narratively revealed by Philippe’s monologue and figured through the visual metaphor offered centrally by the projected image. The switch of focus from the visual and predominantly cinematic, in the first part of the scene, to the theatrical and highly dramatic, during Philippe’s speech, and then again to the visual at the end of the scene, engenders a sequential alternation of distance in spectatorship. Scene 20 – “Lake of death” – takes the action back to Philippe’s apartment in Québec-City, where André picks up the mail and discovers Beethoven – his brother’s pet, a red fish – frozen in his fishbowl. The scene is composed of two “dialogued” moments that take place over the phone, on a stage lit again in sequential, cinematic manner. Stage-right is located the table with the fishbowl. Next to it a puddle of water on the floor becomes visible as it reflects the stage light. In the background, between the two panels, we see the corridor with the telephone. The almost completely darkened Moon, projected at the end of the previous scene, still governs the visual configuration, maintaining the central theme of the solo in sight. The first dialogue takes place between André and his boyfriend Carl. In order to avoid Philippe’s accusations, André tries to convince his lover to help him replace the fish, but Carl refuses to be an accomplice, the conversation turns into a lovers’ quarrel and André hangs up irritated. The second conversation takes place immediately after, between the two brothers. Philippe calls from Moscow, utterly depressed. Although, at the beginning André avoids telling his brother the truth about Beethoven, in the end he decides to be bluntly honest. A confrontation takes place between the two, but surprisingly André manages for the first time to find an emotional connection to his brother, to offer him support, a sign that a way of communicating could potentially develop between the two estranged siblings. He then opens Philippe’s mail, as requested, and – another (diegetic) surprise – finds a positive response from SETI: Philippe’s “home-made” video has been selected to be sent in outer space. André congratulates him; the two brothers seem to find a starting point for positive communication and the very first attempt at open reconciliation between the two takes place. André decides spontaneously to wait for Philippe at the airport and invites him for dinner on the way back to

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Québec-City. The “dialogues” within the scene are both construed and performed in subtle comical crescendo, attempting to alleviate the dramatic tension accumulated throughout the solo and culminating in the previous scene. The manner of performing – speech, gestures and bodily movements – and the slight amplification of the voice remind again of cinematic conventions, whilst the framing medium remains theatre. The final line of the solo – “Vas-y qu’est-ce t’aimerais manger? [pause] Du sushi, ça te plairait?”90 – concludes, through a humorous ironical touch, the perspective upon the entire narrative. The verbal irony is completed intermedially by the slow fade-in of Ludwig van Beethoven’s iconic (if not clichéd!) Moonlight Sonata (1801)91 during a slow blackout. This provides psychological and emotional time for the spectator to delight in the resolution of the siblings’ dispute, and constitutes a seamless transition to the final scene. Scene 22 – “Apensateur” – was praised without exception by all critiques as a masterpiece moment, and was equally appreciated by scholars. A slow “anti-gravitational” dance, minutely choreographed, is performed on a row of black chairs leaning with their backrest on the floor, in front of an inclined mirror. Chairs and mirror are positioned in such a way that the mirror casts the image of the “normal” position of the chairs and performer to the audience. The bare stage lighting focuses the spectatorial gaze onto the reflection in mirror rather than on the performer. The spectators are thus given the impression that Philippe, now alone in the waiting lounge of the Moscow airport, defies gravitation and starts to float into the space, like a cosmonaut, while in fact the performer rolls over on the chairs on stage in extremely slow motion. The movements appear to follow precisely the slow, eerie rhythm of Beethoven’s sonata. One can observe that the material body of the performer does not leave the ground (i.e. the chairs), yet the gaze is drawn, immersed almost hypnotically into the reflection in the mirror, suggesting the opposite: a liberating float through space. The intermedial effect, this time accomplished with medial means pertaining to dance, theatre and filmic conventions, reveals an open play with human perception and its contradictions, and completes the subdued irony of the entire solo. In terms of spectatorship, the sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy are at moments alternating, at moments juxtaposed, creating an unexpected and particular sensation of medial in-between-ness. The dance performed 90

In English: “Tell me, what would you like to eat? [pause] Would you like sushi? ” (author’s trans.). 91 Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp minor “Quasi una fantasia,” Op. 27, No. 2, universally known as Moonlight Sonata.

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also completes symbolically the narrative thread related to the theme of humankind in its quest for outer space and seems to imply that the apparent fragility of the human soul hides, in fact, enough strength to turn emotional loss into spiritual gain, providing an uplifting denouement. Thus the audience is offered the opportunity to experience vicariously, through sensorial stimulation and “close-up” emotional proximity, Philippe’s sensation of liberation, with all its potential connotations. In conclusion The Far Side of the Moon takes further the intermedial strategies of the mise-en-scene and subsequent medial explorations in Lepage’s previous solos. The hybridization between the theatrical and the cinematic, with the occasional interference of other media (puppetry, video, etc., as discussed in detail above) is performed in a manner that engenders an overall increased sensation of immediacy in spectatorship by comparison to previous solos, yet the swift and consistent pattern of alternating distance in spectatorship remains a constant of the director’s work. On a diegetic level – as Dundejovich suggests – the play with iconic characters and references gives way to an increased tendency towards “personalizing mythology” through “the crossing of personal and cosmic boundaries and humanity’s obsession with space travel” (2007, 66).

The Andersen Project Lepage’s fifth solo explores theatre’s mediality on lines similar to the ones proposed in the The Far Side of the Moon and demonstrates, in addition, a furthered preoccupation for enhancing the possibilities of theatrical storytelling. The directorial focus remains on maintaining apparent medial and dramaturgical seamlessness while incorporating newer (digital) media into the intermedial configurations, and seeking spectatorial engagement through effects based on surprise and alternations of distance that highlight a consistent preoccupation towards enhanced perception, in line with the evolved medial literacies of the spectators. The solo brings together in Paris, the “city of lights,” three contemporary solitudes: Frédéric Lapointe – Lepage’s scenic alter-ego, now a well-known Québecois rock lyricist, invited as a librettist for a children’s opera inspired by Andersen’s tale The Dryad –, Arnaud de la Guimbretière – French bureaucrat, director at Opéra Garnier, overseeing the children’s opera project and well versed within the politics of international cultural production –, and Rachid – Maghrebian tagger of Moroccan origin, by day a peep-show janitor on rue Saint Denis. All three characters are struggling to make sense of their lives in the modern world, a world that lost its innocence and real “joie de vivre,” and has become

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labyrinthic, mercantile and merciless. A fourth solitude, historical and mirroring the other three is that of Andersen, the famous 19th century Danish author of fairy-tales, fascinated by Paris – as the Dryad’s storyline, also, demonstrates – as well as by modernity and its technological beginnings, portrayed as an insecure outsider artist silently seeking approval from the world outside. The solo, structured as a “modern fairytale,” reveals the less-known aspects of Andersen’s life and creativity, which bear similarities with the Lepage’s own preoccupations and concerns, thus, maintaining the show’s quasi-autobiographical nature. What Lepage, through his scenic alter ego, and Andersen seem to have in common is “the ackwardness of childhood and blossoming of adulthood plus the need to travel outside their home country to be recognised” (Innes 2005, 127-128). Recurring Lepagean themes: the passion for travelling, creativity and artistic compromise, the fascination with new technologies, the confrontation between past and present, blend in with slighltly newer themes such as: romanticism (portrayed as an innocent world) at odds with modernism (portrayed as fascinating, but in danger of losing its soul) conducing to isolation, troubled sexual identity and unfulfilled fantasies, the thirst for recognition and fame outside home and the limitations induced by the status of “cultural commodity.” The solo is formally developed through a masterfully designed and highly praised internationally balancing act between traditional theatrical effects and intermedial configurations that integrate cutting-edge (at the time of the premiere) medial configurations that aim to respond to the hybrid expectations and evolving medial literacies of contemporary audiences, whilst playing with the cultural globalization tendencies.92 The dialogue established between Lepage’s work and international audiences maintains here, too, a well as its relevance and particularly stimulating dynamic, as Fricker observes: His earlier original productions included formal elements and content that coded them as Québecois; that is, the productions worked on a number of levels – linguistic, formal and thematic – to communicate information about Québec culture and its place in the world in different ways to local and international audiences. His two latest solo shows mark a shift in Lepage’s practice – what we might call a ‘global turn.’ (2007, 120) 92

“The reality of making work that will play across numerous markets, both at home and abroad, has inevitably affected the ways in which Lepage constructs his productions, particularly the ways in which he treats culturally specific material. Examining these alterations not only provides us with insight into the working processes of an important theatre artist, but also informs our understanding of the effects of globalisation on theatre practice more generally” (Fricker 2007, 119).

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The Andersen Project is a commision by Hans Christian Andersen Foundation on the occasion of Andersen’s birth bicentenary. Lepage was expected to create a show in the manner of Vinci or Needles and Opium, to reveal the Danish author to contemporary audiences in a novel way. The director’s initial reserve was overcome as he came in contact with Jackie Wullschlager’s lesser-known biography of the Danish storyteller, which also led him to investigate further textual resourses.93 Thus, two of his less popular fairy-tales – The Dryad (1868) and The Shadow (1847) – as well as anecdotes from Andersen’s biography (i.e. the Parisian travels, the relationship with Jenny Lind, the sexual phantasies and troubled identity) were used as “Resources” and stimuli for the solo. No sensible/material “Resource” has been identified by the director himself, or by scholars. However, themes present in all previous solo performances – i.e. creativity, the darker side of human psyche, mirroring, theatre’s mediality, – informed both the diegetic and medial aspects of the show and therefore constituted themselves as further “Resourses” combined. The Andersen Project premiered at Théâtre du Trident in Québec-City on the 1st of February 2005, and played with great success locally for more than a month. In May 2005, the solo had its European premiere in Copenhagen, followed by successful touring worldwide since.94 As in some of the previous solos, another actor was chosen to take over the performance, to guarantee touring possibilities for the solo. Yves Jacques, who successfully replaced Lepage in The Far Side…, was chosen for the task and took over for the French tour in 2007, after a period of rehearsals and appropriation of the roles. In addition, the solo was adapted for the Japanese culture in 2006, with well-known local actor/director Akira Shirai as main performer.95 93 Fricker maintains: “The story of the The Andersen Project began when the Danish arts producer Lars Seeberg invited Lepage to participate in the 2005 bicentenary celebrations of the birth of Hans Christian Andersen. Seeberg requested from Lepage a one-man show in the style of his past solos, Needles and Opium and The Far Side of the Moon, about the celebrated Danish storyteller. Lepage initially resisted the Andersen commission because he could not find a purchase on the material, until Seeberg gave him Jackie Wullschlager’s biography Hans Christian Andersen: The Life of a Storyteller, [(New York: Knopf, 2001).] and Lepage discovered an unexpected sense of kinship with the artist.” (2007, 121122). 94 For details of touring see Appendix A. 95 Dan Grunenbaum highlights that the Japanese version ran in Tokio immediately after the original version and observes that the Japanese version, by transforming the Québecoist librettist into a Japanese writer and adapting the show tot he local realities, turned the compromise of translation into an advantage.

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Accolades for the solo comprise: the Trident Season’s Ticket-Holder Prize for Best Performance and Prix des Masques for Best Québec Production (2005); Prix Gascon-Roux for best male performance, stage design, lighting and direction presented by TNM Montreal and Capital Critics Circle Awards for Best Production outside Ottawa (2006), Prix Reconnaissance by CNA, Canada and Moskovski Komsolets Award (2007), City of Milan Award for Best International Production in Milan in 2008/2009 (2009), Dora Mavor Moore Award for Outstanding Touring Production presented by the Toronto Alliance for the Performing Arts (2011) and the Elliot Norton Awards for Outstanding Design presented by the Boston Theatre Critics Association (2012). The Andersen Project was critically acclaimed right from the start and continued its successful career as a unique Lepagean accomplishment, both locally and internationally. Reviewers saluted the novelty of the intermedial explorations, which incorporated besides the cinematic, the visual arts, photography and shadow play – by then usual media for a Lepagean show – the World Wide Web, computerized graphic design and graffiti. The focus of many reviews, however, seemed to be less on the unexpected/innovative medial explorations, by that point a given with Lepage’s performances, and more on the virtues of the theatrical storytelling, and on the director’s critique of the politics of the international elite circuit of theatre production. Intermedial moments of high directorial accomplishment were signalled and commended as part of the director’s attempt towards fluidity and seamlessness in storytelling. Most reviewers also considered the solo to further the possibilities of theatre as a medium, through its formal inventiveness. Eve Dumas in “Une conte modern foissonant” (2005) describes the show as “la parfaite fusion de l’intime et de l’universel”96 and highlights the mobile structure of the solo within which the artist reinvents himself, both narratively and medially. She contends that the narrative has a chaotic, yet chronological structure, inside which the modern fable can be recognised (Dumas 2005). Richard Courchesne in “Debout c’est l’heure” (2005) labels the opening night’s show a “coup de coeur” and confesses: “Ce qui me fait carrement halluciner c’est quant on a l’impression qu’il vit sur le fon d’ecran, dans l’image qui est projetée. C’est magique, completement magique!”97, thus highlighting the sensorial impact of the inmmersive intermedial moments. Marie Vallerand, cultural critic for 96

“the perfect fusion between the intimate and the universal” (author’s. trans.). “What makes me downright hallucinating is when one has the impression that he [the performer] lives inside that screen, inside the projected image. It’s magical, completely magical!” (author’s trans.). 97

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Radio-Canada, dedicates her show on the 25th February 2005, to a discussion of the Lepage’s solo. She admiratively highlights the use of technology as flamboyant, accomplished through an endless play with projections and superimposition of images, and she concludes that the solo is: “tres brilliant, mais ce n’est pas assez ecorché, c’est inachevé, mais parce que c’est ‘project Andersen’[…] un project qui evolue a vitesse rapide”98 (Vallerand 2005). In reviewing the opening night, in “La face cachée d’Andersen” (2005), Jean St. Hilaire considers Lepage’s style “plus cinematographique que jamais”99 and highlights, thematically, the use of the dryad as a reflective metaphor of the phenomenon of urbanisation (less recent in Denmark than in Québec, nevertheless experienced in a similar manner), as well as the solo’s parallel between the two Universal Exhibitions (in Paris in the 1867 and in Montréal in 1967) as vehicles for modernity (St Hilaire 2005). Further on, in “Reves et illusions de la modernité” (2005) the same critique observes: En regard de a forme, Lepage applique sa strategie d’un théâtre total en fusion avec le cinema: le personage en chair joue contre image filmique. Ses dialogues monologuees ne creent aucune confusion, on invente sans y penser ses interlocuteurs a l’acteur, cameleon inspire et tres précis celui-la. XIXe siècle obligeant, l’action passé par un cadre a l’italienne en lequel on voit aussi un ecran. Lepage en appelle aussi de la peinture, de la sculpture et de l’architecture. Il use des contrastes dynamiques, pour exprimer un même valeur parfois. Ainsi, une même solitude de suinte de l’escalier monumental du Palais Garnier et des cabines exigues de peep-shows. En musique, le lyrisme d’hier alterne avec les debordements d’airs actuels. (St Hilaire 2005b)100

98

“very brilliant, but not enoughly grazed, unfinished precisely because it is the ‘project Andersen’[…] a project that evolves at great speed” (author’s trans.). 99 “more cinematic than ever” (author’s trans.). 100 “Formally, Lepage applies his strategy of a total theatre fused with cinema: the personage of flesh plays against the filmic image. His dialogued monologues create no confusion, we invent without thinking the actor’s interlocutors, an actor that is an inspired chameleon and very precise at that. Obliged by the 19th century topic, the action is staged within stage “a l’italienne” framework, within which we also see a screen. Lepage also calls in painting, sculpture and architecture. He uses dynamic contrasts, to express the same value sometimes. Thus, the same loneliness oozes via the monumental staircase of the Palais Garnier and the cramped booths of the peep-show. With regards to the music, the lyricism of yesterday alternates with current trends.” (author’s trans.)

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Marie Laliberte in “L’Invitation au voyage: Le Projet Andersen” (2005) signals the surprising imagery of the show created through elaborated directorial technique: “[L]e jeu théâtral prend place dans les ‘decors’ faits de projections. Si l’effet est parfois saisissant, certains passages meriteraient ajustements: la technique parait parfois un peu lourde, ou impose quelques limites. D’autre part, c’est souvent par la manipulation d’objets tres simples que Robert Lepage impressionne. C’est le cas, notamment, pour la chienne Fanny, qu’il fait bien exister avec peu de choses. C’est le cas aussi d’une des plus belles scenes du spectacle, ou Andersen, en realité ou en imagination?, fait la cour – et plus – a une dame ‘qu’incarne’ un mannequin de couture. Dans ces scenes purement théâtrales Lepage apparait comme un magicien creant illusion et poesie.” (Laliberte 2005)101

The international reception has been equally enthusiastic throughout. Odile Quirot in “Le roi Lepage” (2005) calls Lepage “le Jules Verne du théâtre: un inventeur de mondes”102 and considers his theatre a territory for adventure, both medial and narrative. Mario Girard in “L’etrange emotion des vices cachés” (2006) praises the director’s “elan théâtral absolument magistral,”103 highlights the fluidity of the solo – “les tableaux s’enchainent et les decors valsent sous nos yeux avec une grace infinie,”104 – whilst considers it less moving than Face cachee…, yet offering moments of real intensity. Antonio Mafra in “Le sorcier de la scene” (2006) labels the solo “un moment de pur bonheur théâtral […] d’une epoustouflante virtuosité scenique.”105 Natasha Gautier in “Lepage uncorks a tour de force” (2006) considers Lepage a Merlin of theatre and the show “brilliant, funny, visually flabergasting and deeply human at the 101

“[T]he theatrical play takes place in settings made of projections. If the effect is sometimes striking, certain passages deserve some adjustment: the technique seems sometimes a bit heavy, or imposes some limitations. On the other hand, it is often through the very simple manipulation of objects that Robert Lepage impresses. This is particularly the case for the dog Fanny, that he bring to life with very few objects. This is also the case of one of the most beautiful scenes of the show, where Andersen, in reality or in imagination?, courts – and not only - a lady embodied by a costumed mannequin. In these purely theatrical scenes, Lepage appears as a magician creating illusion and poetry.” (author’s trans.) 102 “the Jules Verne of theatre: an inventor of worlds” (author’s trans.) 103 “absolutely majestic theatrical impetus” (author’s trans.). 104 “tableaux are connecting, enchained, and settings waltz before our eyes with infinite grace” (author’s trans.). 105 “a moment of pure theatrical happiness […] of dashing scenic virtuosity” (author’s trans.)

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same time.” Nicholas de Jongh in “Hans-down triumph” (2007) observes that the director’s “flair for running several narratives on different tracks, or on parallel lines until they are persuasively brought together, has rarely been managed with such thematic conviction or to such emotionally charged effect.” Hélene Merlin in “Comment est-ce possible? (2007) appreciates that the solo “bouleverse les codes traditionnels, reinvente l’éspace théâtral”106 and advises spectators: “ouvrez grand vos yeux, vos oreilles, vos coeurs et vos neurones. Ce spectacle est un voyage vers la redemption.”107 Robert Hurwitt in “Andersen Project: Once Upon a Time” (2008) describes the show as a “a theatrical feast that makes the time fly.” John Daly Peoples in “Another Lepage Masterpiece” (2009) sees the solo as “a triumph of theatrical inventiveness” and postulates it “will be a measure for experimental plays for years to come.” Paul Simei-Barton in “The Andersen Project at the Aotea Centre” (2009) highlights Lepage’s unique ability to “weave spectacular images into a coherent narrative, while maintaining the human presence that differentiates theatre from the movies.” Amongst the studies dedicated to the solo, Karen Fricker’s “Cultural Relativism and Grounded Politics in Robert Lepage’s The Andersen Project” (2007) follows the development and reception of the show in its first two years of life. Fricker highlights, as a novelty, the director’s attempt “to fold the categories of personal and global in on themselves by acknowledging that Lepage-performing-Lepage has become a selling point […] and acknowledging personal experience […] not just [as] globalised but a global commodity” (2007, 121). She observes that: Critical response indicates that Lepage’s success in making Andersen appeal across various markets was striking. Critics understood the production as being about quite different things depending on their relationship to the material and the cultures depicted. When Andersen was presented in Paris, for example, critics understood it as a comment on contemporary French society. In London, however, it was seen as having to do with more general themes of alienation, artistic struggle and art-world politics, doubtless at least in part because there is little reference to England in the production. The production’s ideal market, however, was clearly francophone Québec, because of the direct identification audiences could make with its central Québecois character; and because the games with language the production plays […] can also be appreciated as a humorous meta-comment on Québec’s linguistic politics.” (Fricker 2007, 121) 106

“disrupts the traditional codes, reinvents the theatrical space” (author’s trans.). “open wide your eyes, your ears, your hearts and your neurones. This show is a journey towards redemption.” (author’s trans.). 107

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In sum, the critical reception of the solo reflects what the numerous accolades and the long and successful touring life also demonstrated. The scenic apparatus in The Andersen Project articulates, as a novelty, Lepage’s interest to experiment with the possibilities of modulating the surfaces for projection. The screen is central here, too, as in all previous solos,108 but the ways in which it is used demonstrates the director’s intention of working towards an intermedial re-creation of 3D imagery, to generate an immersive effect. This effect is enhanced by the possibilities of the “machinery”109 designed to modulate the white latex screen, turning it either in a concave or convex surface, depending on the mise-en-scene necessities. The latex cloth used for the screen is also lighter and slightly more transparent than the ones used in previous solos, ensuring flexible and seamless movement, becoming almost a “skin” for the modern tale. The screen becomes here more than a protagonist (like in previous solos), it becomes an environment for storytelling, also, an immersive aid for the performer, contributing to the remote interactivity of the solo. The interactivity, however, is not only experienced in a vicarious way by the spectator, through identification with the performer, but extends to the site for live interaction between the performer, the screen and various props or set elements employed to create highly theatrical moments. The screen changes shape often at sight, sometimes becomes a white canvas, sometimes is a hosting surface for the diversity of still or moving images projected and/or created. Symbolically, the screen is, thus, the meeting point between past, present, vicarious spectator, performer and protagonists, between fiction and the material reality of the stage, underlining the directorial preoccupation for immersion. A rails system that traverses the stage horizontally and becomes visible at times is used to bring in set-elements that tend to cite filmic sets (i.e. various cubicles sets, vertical ciliders that illustrate tree trunks), diverse props (i.e. table, chair, the dog’s leash) or puppetry elements (i.e. the dryad’s carriage), depending on the needs of the narrative. In order to create a balance between the projected imagery, the screen and the other material elements that constitute the scenic apparatus, Lepage proposes a mise-en scene that can be construed as horizontal and attempting to interweave the diverse elements to create a seamless and apparently fluid space for the theatrical 108

According to the multimedia documentation of Le Project Andersen... (2007), during the early experimentation phase Lepage worked in a concave white space that gave the impression of immersion, of entering the images to be developed via the mise-en-scene. 109 Avacuming effect is created by a hidden dispositive that either sucks or pushes air into the latex screen, providing the concave or convex shape.

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storytelling. The scenic ensemble engenders the impression of perceptual mobility for the spectator, stimulating engagement with the storytelling process, with immersive highlights as experience, in spite of the sometimes heavy materiality of the scenography. Light and sound design110 are rather minimalist and concur to the creation of atmosphere in an environment that favors an immersive spectatorial experience.111 The scripted – and therefore, by Lepagean standards – final version of the solo was published in book format (with added multi-media “makingoff” material) in French by “L’instant même” and Ex Machina in 2007. The video recording considered official dates from spring March 2005, and was made at Théâtre du Trident. Both sources will be used in combination for the analysis of the solo, and with the added notes from live observance that took place in March and November 2005. The order of the scenes112 in the scripted version is as follows: “Prologue”, “Peep-show (1) (Sous-titre: 96, rue Saint-Denis, Paris 2ème,” “Café de la Paix (1),” “La Dryade (1re partie),” “P.T.T. (1) (Sous-titre: Poste, télégraphe, téléphone, rue Rambuteau),” “Promenade (1) (Soustitre: Jardin des Tuileries),” “La Dryade (2ème partie),” “Peep-show (2),” “Réunion (Sous-titre: Der Kongelige Teatr København),” “Odense (Soustitre: Musée H. C. Andersen),” “Speed (Sous-titre: Train København Köln),” “La Dryade (3ème partie),” “Psycho canine (Sous-titre: Institut de psychologie canine de Paris),” “Backstage,” “Peep-show (3),” “Café Internet,” “L’Ombre,” “Promenade (2) (Sous-titre: Square Louvois),” “La Dryade (4ème partie),” “Grand hall de l’Opéra,” “Métro,” “Peep-show (4),” “La Dryade (5ème partie) (Sous-titre: Jardin du Musée d’Orsay),” “Promenade(3) (Sous-titre: Bois de Boulogne),” “Café de la Paix (2),” “P.T.T.(2),” “Epilogue”113. 110

According to the programme, the music used is a combination of old and new, ranging from Grieg, Donizetti and Offenbach to Sarah McLachlan. 111 The experimentation process included medial exploration of black and white animation (suggestive of drawings for children’s books), but very little of this has been kept in the solo, a proof that seamlenessness and occasional immersivity have been the main formal directorial foci. 112 As usual, there are differences in terms of scene order and content between the official video recording and the scripted version, pertaining to the development of the solo. They will be signalled and discussed in analysis further on. 113 "Prologue", "Peep-show (1) (Subtitle: 96, rue Saint-Denis, Paris 2nd)," "Café de la Paix (1)," "The Dryad (Part 1)," "P.T.T. (1) (Subtitle: Post, telegraph, telephone, Rambuteau Street)," "Promenade (1) (Subtitle: Tuileries Gardens), "" The Dryad (Part 2)," " Peep-show (2)," "Meeting (Subtitle: Der Kongelige Teatr København)," "Odense (Subtitle: H C Andersen Museum)," "Speed (Subtitle: Train København Köln)," "The Dryad (Part 3)" "Canine Psycho (Subtitle: Institute of Canine

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The pre-solo environment follows a similar pattern of creating, through the subtle means of suggestion, a predisposition towards reflexivity, especially medial. Theatre, as a medium mirroring reality, is staged through an intertwining of the live and the mediated that merges old and newer medial conventions. Old-fashioned red and gold curtains on the sides appear both material and mediated via projected still imagery, the material wooden plank that bridges the gap between stage and auditorium is fully lit by floodlights located at stage floor level, yet they are turned towards the spectator rather than lighting the stage. The orchestra pit, with musicians preparing for performance, is suggested exclusively via aural recorded means, which combine with the live sounds produced by the actual audience coming in. In sum, the glamour of the 19th century big house theatre house set-up is evoked and subtly brought into contemporaneity, in an intermedial way. As in other performances, a predisposition towards reflection upon the partly narcissistic, partly vicarious/mirroring process that occurs in theatre between stage and auditorium is stimulated before the actual start of the solo, framing the entire experience. Lepage chooses here, however, a new metaphor to stimulate spectatorial observance. He proposes, via the central cinemascopic screen, the still projection of an old, yet digitally refashioned, multicolored, image of a theatre/opera full-house. Details of audience members cannot be distinguished visually, but the aural background, with its blending of the recorded and the live, complements the visual imagery quite competently, presenting the spectator with a situation of reverse mirroring that mixes seamlessly the old and the new, the past and the present. The convention established is taken further as the solo starts unassumingly with the “Prologue.” The performer arrives almost unnoticed on stage and, facing the projected audience rather than the real one, starts by introducing himself as well as the narrative premises of the solo, whilst a tight close-up of his face, filmed in real-time, is magnified and superimposed on the cinemascopic still image of the audience. One almost forgets, at times, that the real performer is on stage; the attention is drawn to the live projection. The live body of the performer, turned as it is with the back to the real audience, becomes a mere shadow, seemingly smaller than in reality, due to its relation to the mediated close-up. The Psychology Paris)," "Backstage," " Peep-show (3)," "Internet Café," "The Shadow," "Promenade (2) (Subtitle: Square Louvois)," "The Dryad (part 4)" "Grand OpéraHall," "Subway," " Peep-show (4)," "The Dryad (part 5) (Subtitle: Musée d'Orsay garden)," "Promenade (3) (Subtitle: Bois de Boulogne)," "Café de la Paix (2)," "P.T.T. (2)," "Epilogue."

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intermedial configuration underlines the fascination effect that projected imagery tends to have upon human psyche, furthering the mirroring theme. The immediacy effect that the close-up has upon spectatorship is further enhanced as the performer makes eye contact with the real audience via camera, as part of the reverse mirroring process. Thus, the invitation into the story to unfold – the modern tale – comes via eye contact, close-up, and the simple, genuine, direct address speech. A play with perspective, proportions and notions of presence – live and mediated – is performed and suggested as definitory in the experience of the solo. The “Prologue,” with its intertwining of the cinematic and the theatrical, both in terms of aesthetic conventions and material apparatus, and its discrete adjacent video and special effects elements, constitutes an invitation to observe the solo in a particular manner that connects to the notion of fairy-tale, but with a modern twist. Sensorial seamlessness and medial in-between-ness are maintained throughout the entire scene. From a narrative point of view, however, things appear slightly more complex, even a bit convoluted. As the “Prologue” unfolds, we find out that, although we were supposed to assist at the opening night for La Boeme at The National Opéra in Paris, the opening cannot take place due to a suite of strikes and mishappenings pertaining to the production process. The audience, predominantly there “based on invitations,” is offered instead the possibility to watch a modern tale: the story of a Québécois “albino” artist, a French Opéra administrator and a Moroccan graffiti artist, in Paris. In sum The Andersen Project. Thus, from a dramaturgical point of view, the “Prologue” combines post-dramatic and traditional conventions. Moreover, as the discourse unfolds, it holds discrete cinematic value from a delivery point of view, adding to the intermedial configuration proposed. Through an extensive exposition, we come to learn that the protagonist of the modern tale, the albino Québécois artist, is, in fact, the speaker on stage. His name is Frédéric Lapointe; he is an artist in residence at the National Opéra in Paris (Opéra Garnier) and was commissioned to write the libretto for a new work inspired by Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales, in order to celebrate the Danish author’s bicentenary.

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Fig. 4-5- Set-up of the modern fairy tale.

In well-known Lepagean manner, the protagonist is, in fact, a persona that combines fictional and autobiographical elements pertaining to both the Danish writer and the director himself. Lepage invents a “hideout in full sight,” which becomes an opportunity to explore his current status as a “cultural commodity” within the Western circuit, maintain dramaturgical

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continuity in relation to previous solos, and keep the lines of the “dialogue” with the audience open by employing new medial strategies and the new embodiment for the quasi-autobiographical exploration. Lepage is now a mature, internationally praised artist, courted by all major theatre and Opérahouses. His persona is a mature librettist, quite successful as a rock lyricist also, in Québec, still apprehensive towards the international cultural network whose approval he, nevertheless, aspires to get. Trying to remain true to himself – like Philippe, the alter ego in Vinci – Frédéric will strive to arrive to an equally honest artistic response to his questions, all against a combination of external professional pressures and unsettling personal life events. His anxiety, manifested right from the start will constitute one of the main ingredients of the solo, and will find, throughout, significant points of connection with the Danish author’s personality. Once the exposition completed, the performance commences with the credits moment. In the published version of the solo, credits are mentioned as part of the following scene – “Peep-show (1)” – but in the video recording and the live performance, they stand out as a special moment in itself. The transition at sight makes the projected image of the auditorium and the superimposed facial close-up fade to black. Meanwhile, the performer advances physically towards the screen while this receeds discreetly and changes shape. The performer crosses the rails (invisible until now due to stage and lighting configuration), puts on a pair of protective glasses, a hooded jacket and, with one can of spray in each hand, jumps into the now concave screen and starts tagging. An old photograph of Andersen, in vignette, slightly larger than the live performer, appears gradually on the right half of the screen, as if sprayed live, while on the left side the credits of the solo roll on. The moment is supported aurally by rap music. The discreetly choreographed movements as well as the well-timed coordination between animated projection, music and physical movement create the illusion that Andersen’s portrait is graffitied live, whilst the image’s full texture and added details make it clear that what one sees is an elaborate illusion, performed at sight. The ireverrentious touch – i.e. devil's horns, black-eyed mask, lipstick lips, painted heart, arrow hinting outside the frame, suggesting phallic connotations –, revealed by the grafitti, points towards Lepage's intentions with the solo, and, at the same time, dramaturgically merges the two cultures, the one that marks the beginning of modernity and the postmodern. Thus, it becomes evident that the solo will not pay cosmetic tribute to the Danish writer, but rather aims to explore the mirroring possibilities between the director’s and the author’s preoccupations.

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Themes such as loneliness, self-absorption, sexual gratification, the darker/well-hidden side of creativity are presented here initially and will be further explored, throughout the solo, highlighting the paradoxical difference between the apparent serenity of the artistic outputs and initial stimuli that inform the creative processes. At a formal level, a 3D, immersive effect is accomplished through intermedial means via this unexpected, almost aggressive jump into a different type of contemporaneity staged by the credits moment. The glamorous, slightly old-fashioned, well contained and somehow abstractly remote theatre/Opérahouse atmosphere of the “Prologue” is overthrown by an equally stylised, yet more dynamic and full of presence urban atmosphere, with graffiti performed live inside a concave screen. Using techniques pertaining to animation, video and street art, within a hybrid medial framework that already contains the theatrical and the cinematic hybridized, the moment makes the introductory transition one of the most poignant moments of the solo. This new intermedial configuration, far more dynamic than the previous one, yet equally extensive timewise, overthrows the previous stylistically, as well as in terms of atmosphere and spectatorial experience. If a sense of proximity, of temporarily intimacy has been established with the pre-show configuration and the “Prologue,” a clear sensation of hypermediacy comes forward here. The sharp alteration of distance, both medial and dramaturgical, prefigures one of the main characteristics of the solo in terms of structure and spectatorial experience. The transition to “Peep-show (1)” is marked by the performer’s jump out of the concave screen and exit stageright. We are left (for a moment) with the final image – Andersen’s graffitied portrait – for contemplation, and with the support of rap music as aural background. The music then fades away, the screen receeds and disappears completely backstage. In front of it, on rails, from both sides, two sets of peep-show cubicles slide in and merge to create a new, cinematic set-up, whilst the stage lighting turns to red, adding discrete narrative suggestions and contributing to the cinematic veridicity of the set. The rapper reappears with a mop, starts cleaning the floor, then one of the cubicles, then slowly moves off stage still mopping. With his back to the audience, he provides, through the nonverbal, discreetly choreographed presence, initial clues about himself as a humble, anonymous character, hiding behind his hood. The scene, however, constitutes a further exposition of Lapointe’s situation. We find out, through the “dialogue” between the two, one always in the wings, that the Québécois artist has just landed in Paris after a long flight and tries to get the keys for his friend’s flat situated above the Peep-Show club. We

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also find out that the janitor is called Rachid, is of Morrocan origin and does not know where the keys are. At no point throughout the scene, the performer – whether as Rachid or as Lapointe – acknowledges the audience. The light design sculpts everything in a cinematic, discreetly thriller like manner. The overall atmosphere is that of a movie sequence in a studio built-in set, which works quite well in combination with the expositional, filmic dialogue. The scene provides a strong sense of the cinematic realized entirely with theatrical means, thus sustaining its own intermediality. The sense of immediacy is discreetly highlighted through medial means, whilst the main focus remains on the narrative. Tired after travel, stressed because an impeding first meeting at Opéra Garnier, anxious to take a shower, change his clothes and prepare for the meeting, Lapointe insists to find out the keys for his friend’s flat, but ends up instead paying to get in one of the peep-show cubicles, to change clothes, whilst in the background sounds of porn movie are discreetly heard, underlining the irony of the situation. The entire scene contains a subtle humorous touch, enhancing the possibilities for vicarious connection for the spectators and highlighting its construed immediacy. During the transition to the next scene – “Café de la Paix (1),” – the cubicles set parts in the middle and slides into the wings, whilst the screen advances to cover the stage aperture. On rails, a coffee table (from the right side) and a chair (from left side) slide in to configure a metonymic version of a “café-terrasse” situated in front of Palais Garnier. Due to a final screen movement – a complete unfolding of its lower side – this now covers the entire stage aperture, becoming the background on which a frontal view of the Opéra is projected. A cliché image, an overly magnified postcard of the majestic building, gains contour and precision and becomes the scene’s backdrop throughout. The setting is completed aurally, at the beginning and ending of the scene, with discrete noises of café-terrasse in a busy urban context. The constructed, apparently dry setup constitutes the environment for the presentation of Arnaud de la Guimbretière, the opera administrator. As hinted above, it is quite unusual for Lepage to maintain a medially static background, especially if centred on a clichéd image. Usually, they are introduced only in order to be subverted. However, the way in which the image performs as background, providing local color and minimal veridicity, offers a discrete hypermedial sensation, predominantly because of its size, and works on the logic of medial alternations proposed from by the solo, from one scene to another. Thus, the intermedial configuration in the pre-show and the “Prologue,” focused on engendering proximity and emotional closeness, was alternated with the intermedial configuration of the “credits” moment,

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stimulating distance and enhancing hypermediality, followed then by a more discrete intermediality in the “Peep-Show (1),” where cinematic effects staged with theatre means aimed to engender proximity and emotional empathy, and then alternated with the rather clichéd configuration in Café de la Paix (1),” aiming to stimulate a different type of distance as well as discrete hypermediality. A pattern, alternating immediacy and hypermediacy, is proposed in terms of spectatorship, yet effects are accomplished always with different means. Two elements specific and consistent in the directorial strategy are present: 1) a movement of medial alternation, visible from one scene to another, which connects to the episodic nature of the dramaturgy, and 2), within the scenes, a preoccupation for developing discreetly different medial configurations constituted as re-combinations of elements already introduced and new ones. Based on the logic of remediation that encompasses immediacy and hypermediality this strategy provokes different modes of spectatorial engagement interconnectedwith the solo’s dramaturgy. Continuity and diversity are combined both in terms of dramaturgy and mediality, in order to maintain a certain sense of flow and maintain the audience’s attention on a story that appears to be simple in its parts, but is, in fact, multi-layered and complex. Consequently, the predominant focus of the solo releaves itself already to be on the seamless unfolding of the narrative. The presentation of characters is episodic and cinematic (so far), within the framework of theatre. There is an overall apparent slowing down of medial dynamics within scenes compared to previous Lepagean shows, at times even minimalist, not in terms of the media employed (i.e. the apparatuses at play), but in terms of the ways in which media employed become present, perceptible for the audience. This directorial strategy relates to new ways of storytelling, already present in the Far Side.... However, the medial seamlessness that characterised the previous solo is here put away in favor of the newly proposed alternations/disruptions of distance from one scene to another, aiming to immerse the spectator in an experience that intertwines immediacy and hypermediacy in a new way for the spectator. “Café de la Paix (1)” constitutes itself, from a dramaturgical point of view, as an extensive speech of Arnaud de la Guimbretière directed to Lapointe. The performer impersonates the opera administrator: an energetic, always in a rush, verbose, elegant in a corporate way, middleaged man, a family man (at that). Lapointe’s presence as an interlocutor and reactions are only assumed. The discourse covers all the steps of an introductory meeting between an artistic manager and an artist: praise for the artist’s accomplishments and CV, context of the project and

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international collaborators, official and unofficial politics (cultural, institutional), and, of course, the introduction of the text used as base the libretto: The Dryad by Hans Christian Andersen. The tale of the Danish author tells the story of a young dryade, a nymph that embodies the spirit of a tree, kept hostage within a chest-nut, who dreams of going to Paris to visit the Universal Exhibition in 1867. A dream that ultimately comes true, but at a price. The year 1867 is described as the end of romanticism and beginning of modernism, of machinery, electricity, photography, etc., a period of peace, hope and enthusiasm for new discoveries. The story of the dryad, with all its contextual implications, covers excellently the European Union cultural agenda. The aim, thus, would be to create, based on Andersen's tale, an 50 minuts opera for children that contextualizes the historical period, with one main voice (the dryad) and the ambition to capture the children’s attention without being facile. Lapointe is averted that the working climate is fraught with strikes in different sectors of the Opera and funds are rather limited, therefore, simple, yet effective artistic solutions need to be found in the libretto already and Lapointe is invited to work from home – in “neo-romantic” fashion – and, meanwhile, maintain contact with la Guimbretière. From the overflow of information delivered at a high speed pace and the rushed goodbye of the opera administrator, one deduces that Lapointe was left slightly baffled, whilst spectators invited to empathize with the artist’s uneasy situation. The delivery of the scene, minimalistic and very quick (no periods, no pauses), mainly in direct address to the audience, add both to the humor and irony of the situation, furthering the possibilities for proximity and emotional identification with the Québécois artist. The transition to the next scene is swift. The chair and table slide back to the wings, the screen folds again (partially) and receeds, a new set of cubicles slides in front. The cubicles, now with transparent doors, reveal a post office setting, with public phones. Lights on stage are minimal, the atmosphere equally cinematic. “P.T.T. (1)” starts with the performer as Lapointe entering one of the cubicles. He makes a long distance call to his previous life partner Marie, in Québéc. Their “dialogue” is aurally enhanced through amplification and discreetly processed to create the impression of veridicity and presence, to stimulate spectatorial intimacy. Lapointe attempts to reconnect with Marie two months after their break up, and reveals his anxieties related to the new project as well as about his logdging in Paris. His friend’s flat apparently came with a dog, Fanny, which he needs to take care of whilst Didier (his friend) is away at the rehabilitation clinic in Québéc, in exchange for the accommodation. In spite of Lapointe’s persistence, the attempt to regain the (lost) emotional

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intimacy with Marie fails, which leaves him even more anxious. The combination of ingenuity in expressing inner thoughts and insecurity in relation to external factors, the disinterest of the former lover, the context of his present lodging as well as the tone and mode of delivery give the entire scene a humorous touch and, at medial level, discreetly enhance the cinematic, staged with theatre means. Immediacy and a furthered, more nuanced sense of proximity are stimulated at spectatorial level. The scene ends with Lapointe exiting stageleft, disarmed. The cubicles slide and disappear in the wings, the screen advances again and is now concave, as in the credits moment, but this will become perceptible for the naked eye only after the start of the next scene. Initially the entire stage is covered in black. Only “@”– the symbol for Internet access – is visible as “La Dryade (1re partie)” commences. The stage becomes gradually lit revealing a row of red chairs and computer screens – a new serial set – the interior of an Internet café. The performer as Lapointe enters from stageleft with a miniature tree in a paper bag which he deposits on a seat next to him, sits at a computer desk, enters his details to access the World Wide Web and then types “Exposition Universelle 1867.” A set of results appear listed, he chooses one. All the search movements are visible on the screen via live feed. On them, superimposed and in live feed, also, a magnified close-up of the performer's face. The two live feeds, merging as they unfold, create the impression of digital liveness, stimulating notions of hybridization between the “live” and the “mediatized” and creating a brief, transitory effect that includes both immediacy and hypermediacy. Immediacy as they bring the spectator closer to the protagonist by engaging him/her with the minute actions on stage, and hypermediacy as they raise awareness of the mediality of the entire context in a discrete yet effective manner. Through this preamble, the spectator is prepared for the immersive moment to come: the World Wide Web historical contextualization of the story of the dryad. Past and present, inevitably mediated come to life and are linked, formally and narratively, in a hybridized manner in terms of perception. 114 Once the link of choice accessed, the hybridized live feed fades and filmic image of blue sky with few white clouds, of birds circling free high above, covers the entire screen inducing a fleeting sensation of serenity. Classical music gradually fills in the stage completing aurally the 114

In the published/final version of the solo, the scene above is swapped with “La Dryade (1re partie),” which in the official video-recording appears after “P.T.T. (1)” Also, the initial moment of "La Dryade (1re partie)" – the WWW search – does not appear in the final version. For both changes, the intention was presumably to increase the level of seamlessness of the narrative.

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atmosphere with undertones of nostalgia. The performer, still seated, contemplates the images, then takes out the little tree from the bag and places it inside the concave screen. A rectangle of warm, sunny light projected onto the screen delineates an area of land on which now, the little tree “lives,” casting its shadow onto the ground. This image of serenity, peacefulness and plenitude, construed at sight, is the setting, apparently happy, inside which the dryad lives captive. Lapointe contemplates the image and (occasionally) takes notes while, through voice-off, the dryad’s story – in Danish and with French subtitles – starts to unfold. We find out that the dryad lived in a beautiful harmonius environment, but longing for Paris’s beauty, its newly acquired modernity, its nighlife, and envying the birds that could fly to see it. La Tour Eiffel is compared with a giant sunflower on Champ-de-Mars, a symbol of modernity and the entrance gate for the 1967 Universal Exhibition. A highly poetic, idealized version of both the dryad’s life and of the Parisian life is offered both visually and via voice-off. In terms of visual imagery, midway through the narration, the sky darkens and becomes dramatic, blending into a sky at sunset in the city, and, after a while, into a set of filmed still images – historical sketches and engravings of the 19th century Parisian life, of technical and cultural marvels – while music switches to a majestic tone. Thus, both the dryad’s flight of imagination as well as Lapointe’s creative process are illustrated, through a mixture of recorded visual and aural elements, seamlessly intertwined to create, live and at sight, the “film” of the dryad and of her nostalgia for the modern world. The overall impression is that of a film for children unfolding live within the material frame of theatre. The intermedial moment engenders sensorially notions of immediacy and immersion, whilst dramaturgically evokes a world that combines longing for the vitality of the new and dramatic world of modernity. The WWW, video, sketching, engraving, as well as film and theatre merge and hybridize both materially and aesthetically to articulate the intermedial moment, which ends with a return to the image of the tree in his serene environment. Lapointe stands in front of the screen, contemplating this last image, then puts his leather jacket on, preparing to leave while a black stage curtain closes-up, a sign that the live film within theatre and the flight of imagination ends. The following scene in the video recording – “La Dryade (2ème partie)” – offers a complete change of setting. The scenic environment is assembled at sight, as in previous scenes. Through a well-timed mixture of stage mechanics, material surfaces and visual projections, a stylized metonymic forest is configured. Three vertical circular surfaces situated left-stage constitute it, with added projections of tree trunk texture. The

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circular contours of the tree trunks as well as the dramatic atmosphere of the scene are emphasized by intensely red stage lighting coming from behind. In the background, the video image of a full moon, also dramatic and slightly bigger than normal in terms of proportion, situated centreright-stage, offers time contextualization. The space articulated in between is a meadow. The performer – as Andersen, dressed in period attire – lingers by the trees, touching them sensually, whilst through voice-off – in Danish, and with French subtitles – an early dawn, with trees taken out of their ground to be sent to Paris is poetically evoked. One tree falls to the ground with dramatic noise the text says, and the action on stage illustrates symbolically, enhancing by way of atmosphere dramaturgical content. The dramatic moment of the dryad’s liberation from her environment is evoked through a mixture of stage effects, visual and aural elements pertaining to the theatre, and with an enhanced degree of theatricality. Theatre as a medium seems dominant in this moment, reconfiguring distance in terms of spectatorship. As the performer lingers by the trees and then disappears stageleft, the voice-off ends. A swift and quick transition ensues. The red lights fade away, the moon projection vanishes also, white stage lights, now from the front, give contour to the two tree trunks left, suggesting daylight. Quite quickly the performer reappears from behind the trees, dressed now as Lapointe, holding a red leash in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. A daylight regime, mundane and apparently neutral emotionally is instated as “Promenade (1)” commences. 115 The forest evoked in “Promenade (I)” is the famous Parisian Jardin des Tuilleries. Lapointe arrives here to walk the restless Fanny, tries in vain to trick her into taking her medicine, is then surprised, while attempting to urinate, by another dog with its owner and the scene ends up in embarrassment. The scene is construed through a combination of intricate stage machinery movement, performed actions and projections of tree trunks on the two circular scenic surfaces. Aurally, discrete recorded sounds of birds chirping complete the atmosphere. Fanny is brough to “life” via a red long leash manipulated mechanically behind the rails, from off-stage, and the performer’s actions and reactions. The quirkiness of the scene results from a combination of dialogue, stage machinery manipulation and, most importantly, the performer’s reactions, making Fanny and the other unseen characters more than present, in a manner that enhances theatricality, in discrete comedic manner. Lapointe becomes 115

In the scripted version of the show the two scenes are swapped, presumably to merge more swiftly one into another. In addition, the scripted version of “La Dryade (2ème partie)” ends with blurred images of sado-masochistic porn movie, for increased dramatic effect.

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gradually overwhelmed, which creates further comedic effect and, at the same, defines in more depth the protagonist through his rather desperate attempts to cope with everything. The discrete elements of silent comedy performed alongside the stage effects, further the impression of a live film, staged with predominantly theatrical means, and aim to engender a sensation of immediacy and empathy with the protagonist for the spectators, reconfiguring discretely the parameters of distance. The transition to the following scene happens swiftly. As Lepage exits stageright, following Fanny’s leash, the two circular surfaces slide along the stage manipulated behind the rails from left to right. Blackout ensues for a while. Then the control red lights above the peep-show cubicles become visible. “Peep-show (2)” starts with the performer re-entering on stage, now dressed as la Guimbretière, with a professional suitcase in his hand, looking for Lapointe at rue Saint Denis. The opera administrator searches for the entrance to Lapointe’s flat and appears to see somebody stageleft, in the wings. A brief, discreetly humorous dialogue ensues, in which we find out Lapointe is out, walking the dog. La Guimbretière decides to wait for a few minutes and, while looking around, discovers a sado-masochistic whip in one corner. Lapointe calls. We learn that he is far away, so a meeting face to face would be excluded. La Guimbretière tells him about an urgent creative meeting in Copenhagen, with all the partners of the project. The meeting is supposed to take place next morning and Lapointe should go in his place, to defend his artistic choice, reassure the English partners that La Dryade is not too obscure for success and that the internationality of the team will not turn the project into "into europudding." The opera administrator offers details about the travels arrangements, puts briefly away Lapointe’s fears and reservations, concludes the call, then hands in, to the (unseen) janitor in the wings, some material for Lapointe, asks for a token and enters one of the cubicles. Sounds of pornographic movie are heard briefly while the transition to the next scene happens. “Peep-show (2)” does not contain any medial effects. The focus is mainly on furthering the narrative by means of theatre. Comedic situational undertones, the administrator’s speech and mode of delivery, define further the character and introduce, briefly, his darker, more human side, his interest in pornography. From a sensorial point of view, the scene does not attempt to create any overload for the spectator, maintaining the focus on discrete theatricality. The transition to the following scene – “Réunion” – happens quickly. The black curtain covers the peep-show set as pornographic sounds cease. In front of the curtain, the performer as Lapointe slides in from stageright,

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seated on a swivel chair. In front of the rails, a black set element that covers them is slightly raised mechanically, to configure a long table. As the performer slides on stage from right to centre-left, he places plastic glasses on the table, one by one. The set, minimalist and construed at sight signifies a large meeting room at the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen. The scene does not propose any medial effects; its formal focus is on furthering the theatricality reinstated in the previous scene, mainly through the actor’s performance, whilst narratively unveiling Lapointe’s work-inprogress and imaginative vision about the show, as well as his rather limited ability to negotiate the financial means necessary to accomplish his vision. Lepage performs, through a mixture of speech – part French, part broken English –, conversational reactions and minimal bodily movements that illustrate the speech, Lapointe’s uneasiness in meeting with the international partners. The comedic effects rely on timing, occasional word play and, again, on the protagonist’s rather endearing struggle to be convincing and confident. A discrete sense of immediacy is, thus, engendered for the spectators, attempting to stimulate a sympathetic reaction to the protagonist’s clumsy efforts to be convincing. We also find out that the opera for children will introduce a few non-orthodox elements: the Danish author as a story-teller, his erotic hidden longings and his solitary sexual preoccupations, as well as details about the impact of the Universal Exhibition in 1867, as a symbol of burgeoning modern life against the old, vanishing world or romanticism. The elements above, suggested as pertaining to the children’s opera, take, in fact, further, the narrative of the solo and highlight Lepage’s preoccupation for establishing interconnections between Andersen’s work and life and contemporaneity. The meeting at the Royal Theatre in Copenhagen concludes with the English partners still reserved, but willing to see a first draft of the libretto in two weeks, and with Lapointe rather demoralized, but determined, in his soft, silent way, to continue. The setting of the scene is deconstructed at sight, in reverse. The performer slides back from left to right, picking-up the glasses, one by one, as the slides off stage. “Odense” provides a complete change of scenery. The curtain is drawn revealing the screen (now concave) with a set of period elements belonging to Andersen – luggage, a hat holder, a roll of rope and a cane – placed in the centre. Music and voice-off gradually fill in the space. The environment configures in a metonymic way the Danish author’s museum in Odense. The scene commences as Lapointe enters, while the voice-off commentary, a feminine voice, describes Andersen’s quirky travelling habits as well as his passion for journeying abroad. Lapointe looks around, touches the objects, then takes out the hat and a pair of white gloves from

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within, gets dressed, picks up the cane and starts to impersonate Andersen. A further voice-off commentary related to Jenny Lind116 becomes the pretext for a poetic, imaginative moment through which Lapointe reenacts their courtship ritual. Jenny Lind is figured by a period mannequin, dressed in light blue period attire, which the protagonist as Andersen first greets, then dances with, then undressses slowly, but never goes further. The mannequin is brought on stage by rails and manipulated by strings, well timed in combination with the performer’s minutely choreographed movements and the period music that supports the poetic atmosphere of the scene. Through the reactions performed, Andersen is characterized as a shy, sensitive, well-mannered gentleman and Jenny Lind as elegant, beautiful and partially interested in the affair, but running away in the last moment. Whilst there is no visual media employed to enhance spectatorial perception, the mixture of puppetry, dance and silent, stylized performance, as well as the metonymic set-up render the scene one of the most poetic in the solo, stimulating immediacy in spite the evidently constructed nature of the setting and performance. Prop and costume elements are all citations, the courting ritual and the dance cliched also, yet their unexpected, imaginative and highly poetic use render the scene both intimate and theatrical at the same time, and stimulate hybridized perception within the frame of theatre. Once the courting ritual fails as uncompleted, the mannequin slides off-stage right, the music fades and the protagonist, now as Lapointe, but with Andersen's vest, jumps into the screen. “Speed” starts with images (in retro-projection) of train rails in an open field, taken from the front of a high speed train moving. Sounds of train accelerating its movement complete the set-up aurally. The performer puts slowly away all costume elements used to impersonate the Danish author. Then, as the train movement gains momentum, he leans against the old suitcase, scribbles briefly in his notebook and calls Rachid asking him to take care of Fanny until next day. We find out that Lapointe’s return flight has been cancelled due to a strike of the air traffic controllers, and that he now needs to change several trains to get back to Paris. Lapointe, in turn, finds out that drug dealers came looking for his friend, asking for money. He reassures Rachid that he will deal with everything upon his return and ends the call, only to realise that the dog’s pills are in his pocket. The moment’s comedic undertones underline dramaturgically the protagonist’s clumsy, yet earnest attempt to cope with whatever new complication life 116

According tot he script, Jennny Lind was a young and famous, at the time, Swedish singer which Andersen was in love with, but with whom he had only a platonic relationship (Lepage 2007, 42).

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throws at him. Formally, the scene relies on a hypermedial effect, in which theatrical, video and film elements merge, both materially and in terms of aesthetic conventions. An effect of distance is thus engendered, altering the previous spectatorial predisposition towards immediacy, developed throughout the last three scenes. This distance, however, will be paradoxically overthrown by the very enhancement of hypermediality in the last part of the scene in which Lapointe, listening to music with his headphones on, appears to delve into his inner psyche’s longings and experience a moment of immersive trance that (arguably) stimulates symbolic associations with the Danish author’s hidden sexual longings. The moment is supported aurally by techno music that gradually fills in the stage, replacing the train sounds, and the coming of night, figured via filmed footage. The retroprojection first illustrates the darkening of the landscape then merges – through special Aftereffects based on phosphorescent green, red and black – into psychedelic imagery resembling a tunnel. The performer jumps in front of the screen dancing; the projection and stage lighting crossfade and are replaced by stroboscope light. This furthers the effect of fragmentation suggested by the choreographed movements. The music intensifies and accentuates the jerky, spasmodic, trance-like movements of the protagonist. The overall hypermedial effect – combining video, techno-trance music and stage movement – cites a nightclub atmosphere meant to stimulate sensorial immersion. The dance reaches a climatic moment, before the stage quickly fades into complete darkness and silence and the black curtain is drawn. Spectatorship is, thus, throughout the scene, subject to several substantial alterations of distance, all connected to an engendered impression of hypermediacy. The transition to the next scene is quick. The curtain, pulled up again, reveals in the background the still projected image of a sky at night. In front on it, sliding on the rails, a marionette cart and horse slowly carry to the city the tree that holds the dryad still captive. “La Dryade (3ème partie)” commences with aural background illustrating a busy and vital late 19th century Paris gradually filling in the stage. No other visual element is added to create the period environment. The story of the dryad is taken further through a mixture of narration in voice-off – in Danish and with subtitles – and visual illustration, with enhanced dramatic effect. We learn and then see that the chestnut tree replaces an old tree killed by gas pollution in the city, while stage lighting switches from warm yellow, to eerie blue to suggest the coming of dawn. Lights are mainly focused on the marionettes, enhancing the intimate nature of the storytelling. We learn that the dryad is initially happy to enjoy the new surroundings as a tree,

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but then prays to become human, even if briefly, that she longs to experience the city “for real.” Her transformation happens at sight: a little marionette dressed in green attire appears next to the chestnut tree. The atmosphere is poetic, nevertheless the manipulation of all puppetry elements – the cart, the trees and the dryad – all in miniature size in relation to the stage, are operated by the hands of an unseen manipulator that becomes visible in the moments of action. Theatre and puppetry merge to create a visual and aural, poetic “close-up” of the dryad’s liberation, engendering proximity and immediacy in terms of spectatorship. Her appearance, delicate and fragile, almost minuscule in relation to the stage, creates a brief moment of highly poetic theatricality, followed quickly by the transition to the next scene. Blackout ensues, followed but the turning on of the floodlights used in the pre-show configuration. “Backstage” commences. The performer as la Guimbretière crosses the stage from left to right giving quick orders in preparation for the arrival of the New York Metropolitan Opera delegation. Guests are supposed to follow a route that starts backstage and ends at the negotiation table, in the meeting room, to indicate the progress of the project. In the video version, the scene functions mainly as a preamble to “Peep show (3)”. In the final/ scripted version, however, the scene is developed and placed after “Psycho canine” (see below, pp. 273-275), and has as background a still projection of the inside main hall of Palais Garnier. It also includes a phone dialogue with Nigel, the London based partner, which offers quite a dramatic twist from a dramaturgical point of view. The Opéra administrator understands that English partners do not like the “albino artist” or his vision, and offers as solution to replace the Opéra in Montreal with the Metropolitan Opera in New York as partners for the project. The scene overall describes la Guimbretière as a merciless bureaucrat, well versed in terms of politics, while highlighing the mercantilism inherent in the international circuit of cultural production. From a formal/medial point of view, the scene is uneventful, the focus lies on its narrative. “Backstage” ends as la Guimbretière exits stageright in a hurry. A brief blackout ensues, the curtain is then pulled up again, and dim lights come back on stage revealing another set-up. “Peep-show (3)” proposes a return to the serial cubicles, now seen from inside. La Guimbretière appears from behind in one of the cubicles, starts undressing, decided to relax before the meeting announced in “Backstage,” but is interrupted by a call from Yseuld, his eight years old daughter, stranded in the rain, waiting in front of the school to be picked up. La Guimbretière comforts her on a fatherly tone then makes an angry

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call to his wife trying unsuccessfully to convince her to pick up Yseuld. “Peep-show (3)” constitutes a return to the filmic, episodic structure of the initial scenes of the solo. The set remains static, no visual effects are played. The light design focuses mainly on the performer, creating a discrete close-up effect. The aural support – the pornographic film background – is employed to enhance the impression of filmic veridicity in a manner similar to one employed in the initial scenes. The discrete impression of film unfolding live on stage is created. Dramaturgically, the scene offers new insights into the Opéra administrator’s personal life: his addiction for pornography and his troubled family life (his wife has an affairwith his best friend, genuine affection for his daughter). The comedic situational undertones enhance the filmic effect, contributing to a sense of proximity and immediacy which alter discreetly the distance in terms of spectatorship. The scene ends with la Guimbretière exiting the cubicle frustrated. A mop cleaning the chair in which he sat is seen appearing from the inside, as final comedic touch. The set parts in the middle and slides off-stage, the screen is brought to the forefront, concave and dimly lit from above by a spot light. The scene “Psycho-canine” starts with the performer on a stool inside the screen, holding Fanny’s leash and caressing gently the unseen dog. As lights come on fully, a long monologue ensues, which turns out to be a combined canine and human therapy session with Fanny’s psychologist, also unseen. Lapointe is visibly embarrassed, he has never done this before, but seems eager to cooperate to the extent to which he reveals many rather unnerving details of his personal life: his recent break-up with Marie after sixteen years, his reluctance to become a parent due to childhood trauma, anxieties related to the project at the National Opéra in Paris, the irony of the fact that he writes a libretto for children when, in fact, the does not like children, a secret irritation with Fanny’s owner for projecting his own psychiatric problems upon the dog, etc. The scene – one of the longest in the economy of the solo – is static, medially. The light design – intense spotlights that remain unchanged until the end – centers on the protagonist, creating a discrete “white screen” effect in terms of perception, yet with no material projection. In fact, projections might and should happen in the audience’s imagination only, as an outlet for the vivid verbal imagery through which Lapointe expresses his worries. The role of the light design is revelatory both in terms of the setting – the concave screen is a material surface for the symbolic projection – and the character – somewhat visually suspended inside this projection screen, as he unburdens his soul in the therapist’s office. The white screen effect discreetly engendered here by means of set and light design is a an

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example of subtle yet effective intermediality meant to create immediacy in terms of spectatorship, stimulating the imaginative development of mental imagery on the part of the spectator while maintaining the focus on the protagonist and the narrative. The scene’s veridicity and, at the same time, theatricality relies only on theatre elements in terms of material apparatus and aesthetic conventions and is static, formally. Its dynamic and appeal, however, is provided by the situational comedy and worldplay, in sync with the performer’s reactions to the other characters, unseen yet very present. Dramaturgically, the scene turns out to be also an indirect critique/radiography of what international success and becoming part of an elite network that creates cultural commodities entails on a personal level, revealing the artist’s fear of being trapped in a spinning wheel of compromise. The scene ends as music with filmic undertones fills in the stage, taking the action further symbolically: the curtain is drawn over a Lapointe still unburdening his soul. It has to be noted that in the video version, the scene narratively reveals details about the topic of the artistic project in Paris, the associations Lapointe makes between romanticism and the contemporary world. Fanny’s therapy session is a mere pretext for the protagonist’s discourse, which is mainly focused on his problems, past and present, and illustrates, through a highly digressive discourse, that everything is interrelated. The final/ published version, however, offers a balanced combination between the two sets of issues scrutinised, the canine and the human, and they become intertwined in the protagonist’s discourse. Moreover, the focus is more on personal narration than on the protagonist and its preoccupations. A storytelling process that flows, yet it appears, at the same time, slightly digressive, becomes apparently more engaging through its seamlessness, creating a specific distance in terms of spectatorship.117 As mentioned before, the order and content of the scenes differs between the two versions in several instances. In the scripted version, after “La Dryade (3e partie)” comes “Psycho canine” followed by “Backstage” and “Peep-show (3).” Two completely new scenes are introduced in the final version of the solo: “Cafe Internet” and “L’Ombre.” The two scenes cannot be fully discussed, especially from a medial point of view, based only on the scripted version as Lepage tends be very brief when describing medial effects in the stage directions. However, a summary of the content and a discussion of the intentions of these scenes in terms of dramaturgy

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The scene is 13.45 minutes long in the video version. It seems to be, at least, as long in the final version, based on the length of the published script and its reception.

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will be provided, to highlight the alterations part of Lepage’s creative process. “Cafe Internet” is brief and constitutes an interlude to the recent parallel narrative threads unfolded. The scene brings back on stage, at sight, the Internet cafe setting from the beginning of “La Dryade (1re partie),” including the live projection of Lapointe’s face superimposed and magnified, as it was displayed by the computer screen. A brief email exchange between Didier and Lapointe appears to unfold live. We find out that Didier has met Marie, considers her still involved with Lapointe and, also, extraordinary. In turn, Lapointe tells his friend about the drug dealers’s threath and that Fanny is pregnant. The role of the scene is mainly diegetic, introducing new elements in a brief and effective way while replaying the medial combination in “La Dryade (1re partie).” The comedic situational undertones create an effect of proximity for the spectator. The scene ends with the curtain draw. The script offers no indication of transition or medial effects. “L’ Ombre” brings in a new scenic environment and further insight into la Guimbretière’s personal life, while stimulating symbolic associations related to the darker aspects of the psyche, relevant for the entire solo. Another less known tale by Andersen is introduced, and bears the same name as the scene. The set reveals a bedside table with a little lamp on. La Guimbretière enters Yseuld’s bedroom to put her to sleep and ends up re-telling Andersen’s tale. “L’ Ombre” poetically articulates issues related to the darker side of human psyche and self-destructive tendencies.118 The scene relies on a mixture of verbal storytelling and 118

The storyline is as follows: “L’ Ombre” is about a man from the North who decided to visit the South and discovered that there it was too warm for him, so he had to stay inside all day, with the shades drawn, and could open the windows only at night, when a beautiful music was coming from the house across the street. One evening, while at his desk, writing, he observed his own shadow projected across the window, on the house in front of him. Jokingly, he asked the shadow to go and find out who sang the beautiful music. To his surprise, his shadow obeyed. Next morning, he discovered the shadow was still missing and, worried, started looking for it, for weeks and weeks. Then he returned to his Northern country, ashamed and shadowless. After six years, one evening, a tall elegant man showed up at his door. It turned out to be his shadow, which had spen the years in the antechamber of poetry, (who lived in the house next door in the South). The shadow confronted the man, oldened and looking unhealthy, as opposed to him, and invited him to accompany him to the sea, to recover and the man obeyed. At the sea the shadow met a princess from a far away country. The two danced, she fell in love and wanted to test the shadow’s knowledge on all topics. The shadow pointed towards the man, who knew how to answer to all questions. The princess invited the

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movement that combines understated choreography, shadow-play and puppets theatre that illustrates Andersen’s tale in a rather minimalist way, offering, at the same time, the possibility to engage sensorially with the visual embodiment of Andersen’s tale and to potentially stimulate symbolic associative thoughts, for the spectators. The entire scene, is in a way, a dramaturgical interlude, meant to bring, in a poetic manner, additional insight into the Danish author’s way of thinking related to the darker side of human behavior and to discreetly underline the reason for his consistent attempt to repress such tendencies in himself. Formally one cannot analyze in detail the scene, based on the official sources provided. Nevertheless, in looking at the dramaturgical structure and directorial strategies used in this solo, as well as the stage directions offered by the script, it becomes clear that, from a medial point of view, the intention was to engender immediacy in terms of spectatorship, through a seamless intermedial combination of material elements and aesthetic conventions pertaining to theatre, shadow-play and puppets theatre within a rather filmic setting and atmosphere, as suggested by the set and light design. The following scene, in both versions, is “Promenade (2).” The final/ scripted version, however, contains by way of narrative, an added phone dialogue with the Opéra administrator’s wife, besides the dialogue with his staff. Three vertical cylinders move on stage to configure the set, a stylized version of another park: Square Louvois. On the cylinders, video projection suggesting tree trunk textures. Transition music accompanies the movement then fades away. Lapointe enters (from stageleft) walking the dog, with an envelope in his hand, then, as he attempts to reach la Guimbretière at the Opéra via phone, he releases the dog to play. The artist wants feedback for the libretto. We learn that he has been trying in vain, for a week, to reach la Guimbretière, and that he is decided to wait for another week, before returning to Montreal. In the video version of the solo, Lapointe discards the suggestion to call la Guimbretière at home, but in the final/scripted version this option is explored. The Opéra administrator seems somewhat reassuring, but announces delays in the production. The scene, in both versions, ends, of course, on a humorous note: Lapointe has to chase Fanny who ran away. As the performer exits stageleft, a seamless crossfade of lights reveals the back of the dryad, now in human size,119 next to one of the trees. The scene’s main aim is to further the solo from a diegetical point of view, while consolidating the shadow to her country. The shadow invited the man also, but asked him to pretend the roles were reversed. The man refused and wanted to expose the shadow, but did not succeed. The shadow married the princess and had the man executed. 119 The dryad is performed by a stagehand dressed in feminine period attire.

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distance created by the predominance of theatre as a medium in the previous one. “La Dryade (4e partie)” commences with voice-off narration – in Danish and with subtitles – describing the nymph’s human appearance, her stroll through Parisian boulevards, her excitement and fascination with the different marvels of the “city of lights.” Her journey ends at Champs de Mars, the place of the 1867 Universal Exhibition, in front of a huge aquarium, contemplating the sea creatures. Dramaturgically, the video version contains more descriptive detail and, in the very final moment, narrates the nymph’s dissapearance in the air, in sync with the supporting visual imagery fading away and the concave screen receding with the dryad inside. According to stage directions, the final/scripted version ends with the dryad showing signs of tiredness and lying down in front of the aquarium. Thus, part of the voice-off description in the video version becomes visual illustration in the final/scripted version. The nymph spends a few moments aware of her humanity, then stands up and, as the curtain is drawn revealing the concave screen and the cylinders slide off stage, jumps into the screen. The minimalist choreographed dance/stroll through the boulevards towards Champ de Mars is supported visually by a series of still period images of Paris, projected onto the screen. Classical music accompanies the dryad’s journey inside the Universal Exhibition. The green follow spot that lits the dryad at the beginning of the scene follows her throughout and, as the journey through the city unfolds, change color first to yellow, then to white, concurring to the immersion effect created on stage, yet retaining its intensity, a discrete sign to induce awareness of the hypermediality of the environment proposed for the spectator, at the same time, technically effacing the impact of the frontal projection onto the body of the dryad. Medially, the scene creates a gradual effect of hypermediality through an intermedial immersion of both the dryad and the spectator (by vicarious experience) into the world evoked by narration, offering contextual information of the romantic periodmainly via visual means. The media merging here are photography, film, engraving and theatre. The scene ends with the dryad still, inside the material apparatus used to create the immersion effect, as music slowly fades. The concave screen receeds, the curtain is drawn. A distancing effect is, thus, created for the spectator. Overall, whilst the sensation of hypermediality is the main result of the directorial strategy employed, an additional effect of immersion, followed by one of distancing, alter spectatorship, offering a particular dynamic of the scene. A short blackout ensures the possibility of absorbing the information, for the spectators.

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The following scene “Grand hall de l’ Opéra” differs in the two versions discussed here. It has the same location, but different protagonists. The medial apparatus and effects used are similar. The curtain is drawn again; the screen (still concave) reveals a color saturated panoramic image of the central hall and staircase of the Palais Garnier, projected onto it. A 3D effect is performed live throughout the scene through a mixture of live movement – the performer turning around at precise times – and the quick pivoting of the projection to reveal a 365º view of the hall. The follow spot used in the previous scene for the dryad has a similar role here, technically. The aural support – echoed steps inside the hall – in sync with the movements of the performer, completes the effect, enhancing veridicity. Both intermediality and an immersion effect are achieved, engendering a sensation of proximity for the spectator, whilst maintaining awareness of the hypermediality of the set-up. The proximity, however, is related to spatial perception rather than to emotional closeness. In the video version, we see the performer as Lapointe, inside the hall, looking around for somebody to talk to about his script and about the project overall. He discusses with two (unseen) Opéra employees, but achieves no resolution and leaves frustrated. The Opéra employees are made present via aural background (steps) and Lapointe’s reactions and movements. In the final/scripted version, the scene has la Guimbretière as protagonist, ordering around his employees, also unseen. The scene reveals, in addition, the Opéra administrator’s addiction to pornography as a chronic problem resurfacing again. The revelation comes via a phone dialogue with his therapist. In both cases, the scene ends with the performer stepping down from the screen and standing on the black cube in front of it. “Metro” merges in swiftly whilst, in the background, the screen displays a still projection of the subway station “Opéra.” The cube slides away stageright, with the protagonist miming bodily being inside the train. The aural support – sounds of train arriving, doors closing, doors opening and train leaving – concur to complete the moment, adding to its veridicity. Thus, filmic conventions are used aurally within the frame of theatre as a medium to create a discrete intermedial effect. This scene differs, also, in the two versions. Protagonists are different, the video version focuses on Lapointe, the later version focuses on la Guimbretière. Locations are almost the same. The “Opéra” and then “Invalides” stations appear in both instances via still projected imagery, the first version includes also “Ecole Militaire,” as a third stop. In both versions Rachid appears and tags inside the “Invalides” station. Graffiti are different: in the first version the word tagged is “rats,” in the later version there is a

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sentence: “mais pas sans valeur.”120 The media employed for this moment are the ones used in the “credits” moment, yet with different aural support. The intermedial effect prevails in this instance also. Overall, the medial effects employed in the scene are similar in the two versions. However, the video version is more complex in terms of dramaturgy and relies on a combination of visuality and monologued dialogue. The final/scripted version relies only on visuality and is simplified, opting for enhance focus on visual storytelling. Also, the video version shows Lapointe taking the subway and exiting stageright. The visual background changes to display a panoramic image of the “Invalides” station. The performer as Rachid arrives with another train (from the same side), scrutinizes the station, sits for a moment on one of the virtual chairs (in fact, inside the screen), then takes out two cans of spray and starts graffiti-ing underneath the central sign of the station. As mentioned above, texts differ in the two versions, depending on the dramaturgical foci.121 Rachid finishes spraying, then sees Lapointe across the rails and starts a shouted dialogue in which he unleashes frustration related to racial issues first, then announces him that drug dealers came again looking for Didier and Marie called and finishes by asking him to meet outside at the “Ecole Militaire” station. This dialogue does not occur at all in the final version. Rachid remains silent. He only performs the spraying and then sits, waiting for another train. The content of Rachid’s shouted dialogue with Lapointe will become in the later version a completely different scene: “Cafe Internet” (see pp. 275276). In both versions Rachid takes the next train and exits stageright. The final version ends here, and the black curtain is drawn, covering the screen. The video version follows Lepage at the “Ecole Militaire.” He exits by stepping in front of the cube. As the train leaves, he steps back, inside the screen that now displays a contemporary image of Champs de Mars. What follows is a long scene, a combination of projected visual imagery and performed movement, mainly illustrative, that has been completely removed from the final/scripted version. Lapointe walks on the grass at Champs de Mars, looks around at the empty green field where the 120

“but not vithout value” (author’s trans.). In the first instance, the word sprayed suggests a further attempt to characterization with regards to Rachid, his frustration related to racist matters. This will be strengthened by his shouted conversation with Lapointe, further on. In the later version, the wording performs a more subtle metaphor related to the condition of the “outsider,” a feeling that both ethnic minorities and people trying to operate in unfamiliar environments can experience. This includes both Lapointe and Rachid. 121

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impressive pavillions of the 1867 Universal Exhibition were once built. The pivoting imagery effect employed in “Backstage” is performed here in a more discrete manner. Lapointe lies on the grass, looks at the sky for a moment, then falls asleep, exhausted. What follows is a long moment of nightmarish dreaming intertwined with artistic visions related to the project, figuring the Dryad’s visit of the Montreal Universal Exhibition in 1967, and Andersen’s sexual fetishes. The visual narrative takes the spectator first through different Parisian locations. Images of blue sky and white clouds merge repeatedly with animation figuring a door, an empty room, a dark backstage area, stage wings and then an image of the auditorium seen from on stage – the same images from the prologue are used –, details of the outside walls of Palais Garnier, then of its surroundings seen from the helicopter. Images are supported aurally by discordant sounds of an orchestra tuning in, employed in a filmic manner to enhance the nightmarish effect, intertwined with sounds effects illustrative of the animated images – i.e. knocks and a voice outside the door, audience notice, helicopter sounds – meant to add to the veridicity and immersion effect proposed by the scene. The performer’s movements follow the logic of a nightmarish dream. Lapointe is awaken by the door knocks, walks confused side stage and then on stage, reenacts the first moments of the “Prologue” moment, collapses on stage when reaching a climactic moment of personal crisis and then, as a lassoed rope appears from above – in a Deus ex Machina manner –slides his foot into the lasso, clings onto the rope, is lifted to the sky and disappears in the wings sideways. Once Lapointe is symbolically rescued, the audio-visual montage moves quickly to documentary footage of the Universal Exhibition in Montreal in 1967, supported by relevant music of that period. The stagehand impersonating the Dryad slides in from stageright, in front of the footage displayed on screen and contemplates it. The footage chosen creates a further effect of immersion without any movement from the dryad’s part. The moment ends with an awareness of the footage being a TV production of the time. A tight close-up of Lapointe, as if taken by a web-camera, follows and then he calls for Marie in his sleep. The dryad stands up and advances towards the screen, as this receeds and partially folds from the bottom up. Then turns around, takes off the dress and a male, dressed in fully in sado-masochistic gear starts whipping around, while alternative rock music fills in the stage. The moment ends with the black curtain drawn again and blackout, but it is rather quickly followed by sounds of trotting horses. On the rails, in front, a 19th century carriage slides in from left to stagecentre. The carriage’s curtain is pulled away and we see the performer as Andersen, elegantly

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dressed, looking around interested. “Una furtiva lacrima”122 gradually fills in the space, a symbolic comment that frames the theatrical moment to follow. Andersen makes a sign to somebody unseen, and then pulls back in the curtains. The lower half of the carriage opens. We see the lower part of a body in feminine period undergarments, lit from inside by warm yellow light, and Andersen’s cane trying gently to pull the crinoline up. A symbolic erotic moment of sexual teasing, entailing undertones of voyeourism and repressed sado-masochistic tendencies is performed. Then, the carriage’s curtain is pulled away again. The performer through gentle, choreographed bodily movements suggests that the lady of interest is a can-can dancer. The sexual act is also performed symbolically inside the carriage. Once the act completed, we see the performer, dressed as Anderson in his upper half and as a can-can dancer in the lower half of the body. Andersen mimes paying the dancer, then steps back into the carriage, looks around satisfied, closes the door and, with the cane, gives a sign to the driver to move away. The carriage slides slowly stageright in the wings, as the music fade. The entire moment is of theatrical magic, as reviewers highlighted, and reconfigures in terms of perception the distance in spectatorship engendered. The entire section described above and removed from the solo’s final/ scripted version lasts 12 minutes. The montage technique applied within the frame of theatre takes the spectator sensorially through an overload of visual and aural information. Intermediality and multi-mediality alternate, as outlined above, creating a sensorial overload illustrative of Lapointe’s state of mind and soul. Immersion alternates with distancing and engagement effects in terms of spectatorship. In the later version, the different dramaturgical route chosen to enhance the focus on storytelling entailed a tuning down of the medial effects and consequently a minimisation of the sensorial overload proposed for the spectator. “Peep-show (4)” commences after a blackout that offers the spectators the possibility to absorb all the information. Its continuity is ensured in the video version by the common sexual theme. In the final version the presence of la Guimbretière is added; we see how he tries to feed his sexual addiction.123 As the curtain is drawn, the initial peep-show cubicles set is revealed, yet this time only via the set of red lights above each cabin. Aggresively loud sounds of pornographic filmic soundtrack complete the set-up. Lights above cabin number 6 are on. The soundtrack lasts for a while then it ceases, the door opens and we see the Opéra administrator 122

Iconic tune from the comic Opéra L'elisir d'amore (1832) by Gaetano Donizetti. This is explicitly confessed in “Grand hall de l’Opera” in the final version, and presented also in “Peep-show (3).” 123

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seated on a chair. Lateral red spots create a corridor of light towards the wing stageleft, where Rachid is presumably positioned. Exhausted, la Guimbretière recomposes himself, then calls for a taxi and enters in conversation with the janitor, while waiting.124 From his monologued dialogue we learn that the place will soon close for Easter holiday, that he knows and likes Morocco as a tourist and that he just separated from his wife, who took his daughter, also. The scene has no visual effects or any other changes. The focus is on the character and the narrative. Comedic undertones are minimal also, and based on occasional word play, or situational. The sensorial neutrality proposes a respiro and shifts the focus on the narrative thread, in terms of spectatorship. Taxi horn sounds are heard, la Guimbretière exits stageright. Immediately afterwards Rachid shows up to clean the cabin and discovers la Guimbretière’s professional suitcase. The scene ends with the janitor exiting stageleft. During transition lights fade off, the set parts in the middle and slides off-stage while the screen comes to the forefront. “La Dryade (5e partie)” is located at Musee d'Orsay. Classical music with melancholic undertones emphasises the atmospheric nature of the scene. Inside the concave screen, a white marble sculpture of a sleeping woman. In the video version the action happens inside the museum, the statue is first lit from above, then fully; in the final version the action happens in the garden of the museum, lights come from behind the statue and Lapointe uses his torch to reveal some of its details. The later version also brings Fanny into the picture, presumably for discrete additional comedic effect. In both versions, Lapointe looks at the statue of the nymph, visibly saddened, caresses her face, then kisses her on the mouth – a symbolic good-bye gesture. The scene ends here in the video version. The final version includes also, as additional aural support, the final paragraph from Andersen’s fairytale, evoking the last moments of the dryad, delivered in voice-off by the performer as Lapointe. The description is added for poetic effect and dramaturgical clarity in relation to the particular narrative and directorial choice made. The scene does not employ any medial effects; it is theatrical in an understated manner, engendering a discrete sensation of immediacy and emotional proximity in terms of spectatorship. However, in the video version, the paragraph describing the dissapearance of the dryad makes the object of a separate scene that happens afterwards, at Lapointe’s temporary flat in Paris, on 96 rue Saint 124

In the final version, he asks the janitor to call a taxi for him as he cannot find his mobile phone. A discrete added focus is put on the Opéra administrator's exhaustion, here.

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Denis. After a brief transitional blackout in which the curtain covers the screen and music fades away, a chair appears stagecentre, dimly lit from below. The performer, as Lapointe, enters from stageright, sits on the chair and reads the paragraph related to the disspareance of the dryad, in a contemplative/ melancholic manner. As he closes the book, a knock on the door is heard and la Guimbretière’s suitcase is handed in through the door. After a few hesitations, Lapointe opens the suitcase and discovers inside sado-masochistic gear (i.e. a chain, handcuffs, a whip, a leather mask) and the white envelope containing his libretto script unopened. Stage lights fade to blackout focusing on Lapointe’s face as he processes the information and has the revelation about la Guimbretière perfidy. This scene is completely removed from the final/scripted version. The description of the dryad’s passing away has been resolved differently, as described above. The revelation of la Guimbretière’s political machinations is introduced for the spectators already in the scene “Backstage” (see discussion above, pp. 272-273). Lapointe’s personal revelation is included implicitly in the scene to follow. The dramaturgical decisions signals a shift of focus in the final version from the protagonist to the storytelling process. Also, the final version brings together the narrative threads related to Andersen and Rachid, interconnecting them with the other characters of the tale – the Opéra administrator and Fanny, the dog – in “Promenade (3)” (see below, pp. 286-287) on the same lines of highlighting the focus on storytelling. “Cafe de la Paix (2)”employs the same set-up from “Cafe de la Paix (1).” The transition is complex yet quick; the performer remains seated on the chair, the terasse coffee table slides in front of him, the curtain is drawn, the image of Palais Garnier (now taken at dusk) creates a more discrete postcard effect and, also, stimulates symbolic associations with the notion of closure. The light design changes from the intimate/dark atmosphere of the previous, revelatory moment for Lapointe to a dusky atmosphere in the “city of lights.” The nature of the set is visibly constructed, here too. Lapointe firmly puts la Guimbretière’s suitcase on the table and the white envelope on top of it. The confrontation between the two commences. It is the moment of truth regarding the project and their professional relationship. In the video version, to enable the convention of dialogue/ confrontation between the two, the table and chair move midway through the scene, the curtain is drawn back for a few seconds and a projected red theatre curtain is used as a background, while the floodlights used in the pre-show configuration lit the stage fully, partially covering the move. The table, with the suitcase and the envelope on top, and chair slide across the

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stage from left to right and the background image is replaced with another image from the Opéra square, the switch to the Opéra administrator is produced. The two characters are performed in turn. Each speaks out crudely their version of the truth. Lapointe accuses the Opéra administrator of hypocrisy and cynicism, of lack of respect for him and the project, expressing his deep disappointment with the way things have been managed. La Guimbretière accuses Lapointe of hypocrisy and naïveté, of seeking validation in what he believed to be the beacon of the cultural world, but it is not anymore, of willing to compromise his artistic integrity just to work in Paris, then deposits the white envelope on the table, takes his suitcase and leaves the stage. The moment of truth ends on a dry, slightly bitter note. In the final/scripted version the transition mid-scene disappears, the confrontation between the two is presented from Lapointe’s perspective only. Nevertheless, the monologued dialogue with la Guimbretière incorporates all discourse elements presented in the first version: the cynicism of the Opéra administrator, the artist’s own naïveté and eagerness to make artistic compromises in order to be validated in Paris, but Lapointe justifies this based on a tradition with artists that started centuries ago and incorporated Andersen also. The cynical dryness of the scene in the video version is here partially removed by a dramaturgical addition: Fanny and her newborn puppies. They are, of course, unseen, but signalled by a big basket that is now on the coffee table, instead of the suitcase. The focus Lapointe’s discourse is split throughout the scene between paying attention to Fanny and the puppies and the confrontation with la Guimbretière. The scene ends partially amicably, Lapointe thanks the Opéra administrator for bringing Fanny back, leaves the libretto for him to make good use of it, and then heads off stage with the basket of puppies. From a medial point of view, in both versions of the scene changes and alterations are minimal and related exclusively to set design. The scene is otherwise static. The focus is on dramaturgy, on the confrontation regarding the project and Lapointe’s involvement with it. In terms of spectatorship, the experience relies on reconnection to theatricality and the conventions engendered by theatre as a medium. No special sensorial endgame takes place here, the focus is on the factual aspects of the closure between the two. “Promenade (3)” takes place in Bois de Boulogne. The set is minimal/symbolic. The largest of the cylinders, used previously to configure parts the forrest or parks, slides on stage, the usual tree texture projection and lighting fade in to complete the set-up. In the video version an oversized full moon projection in the background creates depth in terms

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of perspective and stimulates symbolic associations for the spectator. The moon is not present in the final version. In the video version we see Lapointe strolling through the park, looking at the tree, pressing his ear against it, listening attentively, then discovering the lost Fanny and exiting with her. In the final/scripted version Lapointe does not appear at all. The entire set of actions is symbolic and openly performative, centred on the symbolic tree as a meeting point between different destinies.125 First Andersen is introduced on stage. Like Lapointe, in the previous version, he listens closely to the sounds of the tree, and then disappears behind. Rachid appears on stage from the other side, sprays the word “anarchiste”126 on the tree and vanishes behind. Then la Guimbretière appears, also from behind, with a sado-masochistic chain around his neck. Immediately after, Fanny’s leash appears, manipulated from off stage to mime the dog’s presence. The Opéra administrator calls the dog, intends to attach his own chain to the leash first, but realises the dog belongs to Lapointe and decides to make a humane gesture and take her back. The two exit. The scene, in both versions, ends with the set de-constructed at sight. The focus of the scene is dramaturgical as well as symbolic, in both instances, although intentions are slightly different. The final version displays an enhanced sense of theatricality. Based on stage directions, one can assume that medial effects are minimal in the final version also, and employed mainly for continuity in terms of set-design. The engagement proposed for the spectator is predominantly cognitive in relation to the narrative, especially in the final version, and connects to the series of symbolic interconnections proposed as narrative conclusion, based on the fairy-tale structure with a modern twist. Thus, the theme of sexual deviance and that of the outsider become closely and explicitly intertwined in terms of narrative, and spectatorial perception. Also, it has to be noted that, for dramaturgical seamlessness, the scene takes place in the final/ scripted version before the confrontation from “Cafe de la Paix (2).” “P.T.T. (2)” follows Lapointe’s attempt to reconnect with the world back home, in Québec. In both versions, the scene brings back the filmic atmosphere created in “P.T.T. (1).” The set and light design are similar. In addition, classical music thematically linked to the music employed for the dryad’s disappearance enhances the atmosphere. The curtain is drawn, revealing the serial set of phone cubicles. Lapointe comes from stageright, enters the cabin in the centre and dials Marie’s number. He confesses the 125

Bois the Boulogne is one of the legendary parks of Paris, famous also, historically, as a place of gathering for outcasts or people that were considered “sexually different.” 126 Anarchist (author’s trans.)

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project has failed (at least for him) and he will return earlier to Montreal, and asks her if he could stay with her for a while, to give Didier the opportunity to complete his detoxification process. He also tells her that he is willing to try and have children, or adopt, as he wants to be with her again. He finds out that Marie has met somebody else, in fact Didier. Lapointe, ends the conversation visibly affected and upset. From a dramaturgical point of view, the video version is more digressive: it uses Fanny's pregnancy as a pretext to timidly reveal Lapointe’s new decision to have children with Marie, the impossibility to become again a couple is less clear, Lapointe is still the indecisive, timid, yet willing to engage with life’s challenges character that he was from the start. The final/scripted version is more concise, the ending clearer cut, Lapointe's monologued dialogue more direct. Medially, the scene, through its filmic atmosphere realised with exclusively theatre means, aims to create an emotional closeup for Lapointe’s final moment. The discrete intermediality of the scene engenders notions of emotional intimacy and sensorial immediacy in terms of spectatorship, whilst maintaining the focus on the storytelling aspect, in both versions. At the end of the scene, as stage lights fade away, Lapointe gets out of the cabin, looks around for a while, then steps over the rails, in front of them. The curtain is drawn again, floodlights fill in the stage. The performer turns his back to the audience. The background image of the auditorium in Palais Garnier is revealed, on which his face in live close-up is superimposed. The entire intermedial set-up of the “Prologue” is brought back on stage, through a swift transition, at sight. “Epilogue” starts with the performer, as Lapointe now “closing the circle” opened in the “Prologue” and concluding the modern tale. In terms of set up and medial dynamics the scene is similar in both versions. The ending differs. In the video version, as the speech concludes, the performer looks around in silence, while the background image of the auditorium fades away. For a few seconds we see only his close-up image, the artist searching for reactions, for answers in the dark, before the close-up fades and is replaced by the still image of the pre-show nineteen-century curtain. The credits musical leitmotiv fades in, the performer turns around bows to the real audience, signalling the end of the solo. In the final/ scripted version, in the last section of the speech, a video effect of flames appears at the bottom of the screen and will gradually engulf the background, covering first the superimposed imagery then Lapointe’s face close-up, then the blackness of the background, while the credits musical leitmotiv fades in to signal the end of the show. Dramaturgically, however, the two versions differ more. They both contain a description of Lapointe's long walk at night through the “city of lights,” much like the dryad’s walk, but

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with a different mood and awareness of what the city hides behind its glamour and vitality. Both versions also contain the narration of a fire at 96 Rue Saint Denis, the peep-show place. Both draw a brief and discrete conclusion regarding the similitude between Andersen’s beautiful fairy tales that, nevertheless, end cruelly and the modern tales that are about the disorder of modern life and therefore, cannot be told, but in a disorderly fashion. The narrative of the fire, however, and Lapointe’s involvement are presented differently. In the video version, Lapointe returns to his flat in Paris at the moment when the building was already burning, finds out that la Guimbretière was trapped inside, Rachid suspected for arson and his status as an illegal immigrant unveiled, while he, himself, is taken to the police for investigations. In the final/scripted version, Lapointe returns to the flat, exhausted, falls deeply asleep and is awaken by a white snowy foam, sign of an arson in the building, looks around perplexed and tries to escape, but remains blocked, asking himself how this story would end, while contemplating the symbolic similitude with Andersen’s cruel fairy tale endings. The final version, much in the logic discussed previously seems to follow the enhanced focus in storytelling, aiming towards more conciseness in terms of speech, yet maintaining the combined focus on narrative and its symbolic associations, and using fire as a visual symbol of purification against life’s messiness. In terms of spectatorship, the final scene combines, in both versions, the focus on the formal, on intermediality and effects realised at sight, and storytelling, with all its associative, symbolic implications. Distance is again reconfigured in a manner that summarises the “signature” elements of a Lepagean solo. Overall, one could state that The Andersen Project follows the well established, by now, formal logic of intermediality in terms of directing strategies, employed in direct connection with the preoccupation for altering spectatorship. Based on the resources investigated, the dramaturgical differences between the two official versions can be considered as slightly more evident and complex than in the case of previous solos. Nevertheless, as discussed before, they are a sign that all Lepagean performances are based on a work-in-progress process that lasts throughout (most of) their life as performances, leading to significant alterations both in terms of structure and aesthetic construction. The changes are also a sign of a deeper concern with notions of storytelling. This has been a tendency noticeable in the Far Side... already, but it becomes here one of the main directorial preoccupations, in direct connection to the show’s aim: to tell a modern tale. Significant cuts are operated from one version to another and they include scenes or moments in which the predominance of visuality through medial effects tend to

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overshadow the storytelling process. Furthermore, intermedial and/or multimedial strategies are employed slightly different in this solo, maintaining theatre as a framing and dominant medium, throughout. On the one hand, intermediality is visible as strategy in terms of scenic environment for almost each scene, revealed through the set-up at sight, often evidently symbolic. Filmic conventions are quasi present throughout the solo, yet they are realised predominantly with theatre means. Many scenes tend to remain medically static, to allow an enahnced focus on the narrative, with the exception of transitions and particular intermedial moments chosen to highlight and/or reveal aspects of storytelling that are significant for the multilayered nature of the modern tale that the solo proposes. In those particular instances, of high medial complexity, various media are intertwined, both materially and/or in terms of aesthetic conventions, but the overall focus remains on the storytelling process and the alterations of distance produced in terms of spectatorship are punctual and underlining the focus on the narrative and related nuances. Thus, within the framing medium of theatre, filmic elements are brought to the forefront oftenly, accompanied or intertwined, in various configurations, with other medial elements pertaining such: video, animation, graffiti, photography, drawing, lytography, puppetry, and music (classical, rap, opera, and trance). Spectatorship, consequently, is altered in a more subtle way, allowing the focus on storytelling and its cognitive associated state to remain key in relation to the solo. Or, in the words of John Coulbourn, Lepage is able to blend “some of the most ancient theatrical effects with some of the most modern to expand the theatrical stage so that it seems indeed to embrace the world” (2010).

Conclusion As discussed above, Lepage is one of the “auteur” directors that successfully combine experimental and established theatre strategies, openly exploring the medium’s multiple possibilities through the integration of other media. The intermedial mise-en-scene strategies that he proposes presume playfulness, flexibility and a willingness to be immersed into the fictional world and overall discourse proposed, as part of the spectator’s unwritten contract. Performances, as works-in-progress, ultimately “mature” not in rehearsals or at the opening night, but in time, as a result of the interaction with diverse audiences. This process involves both integrating the immediate response that occurs throughout live performance and post-show feedback received via especially organized sessions. Thus, theatre – in Lepage’s case – becomes above all a “meeting

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place” between people, ideas and a framing medium that integrates other media and their respective technologies; in sum: an art form alive and dynamic, viably integrated in the present cultural environment. In terms of dramaturgy, all solos offer an open-ended perspective upon the contemporary world and tend to address both local and wider/Western audience values and concern. Moreover, as Dundjerovich maintains, each of Lepage’s original theatre work “inevitably deals with a character entering a new country, or a new environment that significantly changes his or her perspective upon life” (2007, 11) and are formative. In a sense then, each solo becomes about change, new perspectives and new knowledge acquired in and throughout performance. At a sensorial level, through the quasi-continuous and imaginative reconfiguration of the relationship between the various performative elements (including other media involved), solos constitute an invitation to embark on a fictional journey in which distance in spectatorship is quasicontinously altered. The journey includes moments of delight, surprise, or challenge, in terms of perception, stimulating emotional involvement as well as the imagination, the cognitive and, ultimately, the creative capacities of the spectator. As consistently observed throughout this chapter, the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene developed by the Québecois director are situated in direct connection to the themes explored and lead to the development of unconventional theatre narratives that aim (and succeed) to surprise the spectator. But more than that they illustrate the mise-enscene’s evolving relationship with the other media involved in performance. In this respect, Fouquet’s claim about the first four solos, quoted below, applies to the last one as well: On mesure bien l’évolution de la technologie de l’image en comparant Vinci et ces autres spectacles solos. L’ingéniosité du premier se passe tout à fait d’images animées, jouant du verbe et de la donnée photographique ; les autres spectacles sont beaucoup plus visuels: ils se consacrent entièrement à une narration par l’image ou mettent le regard et la surveillance au centre du drame, ou encore jouent de la fluidité de l’évocation, d’ou une présence quasi naturelle [naturalisé] de la vidéo. Le dernier spectacle solo renoue surtout avec une narration, un jeu théâtral et un goût pour les calambours, venu tout droit de Vinci. La Face cachée réunit Vinci et Elseneur (2002, 302).127 127

In English: “One can measure quite well the evolution of imaging technology by comparing Vinci with the other solo performances. The ingenuity of the first happens through animated imagery, word play and photographic data; the other shows are far more visual: they devote themselves entirely to a narration through

The Solo Shows

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As acknowledged by reviews and critical studies, the impact of the solos upon audiences brings forward a number of superlatives – i.e. “stunning,” “magical,” “intense,” “virtuosic,” displaying “emotional vividness,” etc. – that imply a multi-layered spectatorial involvement into the fictional worlds created on stage, suggesting a consistent and diverse stimulation of the sensorial, emotional and intellectual capacities of the audiences. Nevertheless, as outlined by the resourses investigated in the present study, one can state that spectators tend to perceive their experience of the performance as an integrated whole. The quasicontinuous alternation of distance that occurs in the situation of live performance, stimulates the realms of the intellect, senses and emotions to meet, hybridize and/ or juxtapose, ultimately inspiring interpretative responses in direct connection to the medial and thematic hybridizations proposed on stage. In other words, the intermediality of the solo shows analysed as case studies in this chapter – Vinci, Needles and Opium, Elsinore, The Far Side of the Moon and The Andersen Project – provide the spectators with an experience that is by no means a passive/absent-minded absorbtion of the stage discourse. It is rather a multi-layered and stimulative invitation related to the spectators’ abilities to be creative and cognitively active, in line with their current horizons of expectations and levels of medial literacy, no matter how diverse those are.

the image, or situate seeing or observing at the center of the drama, and moreover play with the fluidity of the evocation, from which results an almost natural (naturalized) presence of the video. The last solo show revives especially the a narrative, a theatrical play, and a taste for calambours, coming straight from Vinci. The far side ... reunites Vinci and Elsinore” (2002, 302).

CONCLUSION

This chapter summarizes the study’s findings regarding spectatorship in the case of Robert Lepage’s original theatre work. As suggested already in the Introduction, one can assert beyond any doubt that the original performances developed by the Québécois theatre-maker in the past three decades installed their author comfortably in the gallery of seminal Western theatre practitioners of the late twentieth and beginning of the twenty-first century. As discussed extensively throughout the book, Lepage’s theatre has been the subject of numerous studies and critical reviews attempting to describe and define the innovative qualities of his theatrical approach. In the Introduction, a number of scholarly perspectives proposed by: Chantal Hébert and Irène Perelli-Contos, Ludovic Fouquet, Aleksandar Dundjerovic, Natalie Rewa, Marta Dvorak, James Bunzli, and Christopher Balme were discussed in order to situate the study’s theoretical hypothesis in the context of existing research. In surveying the international body of scholarship, the issue of spectatorship in connection to theatre’s genuine mediality was highlighted, explicitly or implicitly. In attempting to address the issue of spectatorship in more detail, Chantal Hébert and Irène PerelliContos postulate that the cognitive aspects of “théâtre de rechèrche” in Québec, especially in the case of Robert Lepage’s practice, are situated in direct connection with the transformative aspect of vision and, therefore, lead to significant changes in spectatorship. To account for this change, scholars propose the replacement of the term “spectator” with the term “specta(c)tor,” borrowed from Augusto Boal. However, even if a significant change in terms of spectatorship is indubitable in the case of Lepage’s theatre, as the present study also suggests, the claim made by the Québécois researchers is slightly misconstrued, as I will attempt to argue further. In Augusto Boal’s theatre, the term “specta(c)tor”1 refers to the actual inclusion of members of the audience as active agents/actors in the shaping of the live performance. Spectators become “specta(c)tors” when they 1

The term was put forward by Augusto Boal in Theatre of the Oppressed (1979) in relation to his Theatre of the Oppressed system (TO system) and more precisely to theatre forum, a form of participatory performance with overt social focus.

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engage with the open-ended narrative proposed, which they debate in an embodied manner, in order to address reality. Their exploration is accomplished most oftenly through (en)acting ideas, which implies both physical involvement and (original) dramatugical propositions. Spectators, in such instances, become, indeed, specta(c)tors, in order to test the (various) dramaturgical possibilities proposed by themselves, there and then, via a process guided by facilitators, and, through this ad-hoc creative-improvisational-critical process that constitutes itself as a “rehearsal for reality,” they seek and (arguably) find means of empowerment towards transforming the reality of their day-to-day life and address the interconnected issues of oppression which make, in fact, the object of the entire exercise. The opressive reality addressed is the concrete (and detailed) source from which the dramaturgy of theatre the oppressed draws its inspiration in the first place, an aspect that is treated radically different in Lepage’s practice, if tackled at all in an expressed manner. Thus, the theatre of the oppressed narratives, open-ended as they are, are presented “on stage” mainly in order to find resolution to the social issue(s) under scrutiny, and are predominantly illustrative of the issue(s) addressed and the debate they intend to stimulate. Moreover, as more than four decades of globally spread Boalian (informed) practice suggest and theatre forum methodology argues, through the very fact that specta(c)tors engage with a social issue specific to their community, their action/acting throughout the performance gains particularly symbolic meaning and differs, in terms of intent, from the spectatorial involvement stimulated by Lepage’s directorial approach. Furthermore, theatre of the oppressed works mainly at grassroots level, audiences tend to be rather homogenous, as they belong to specific communities targeted by the TO practitioners, whilst regular theatre audiences, although they constitute themselves in momentarily communities, are rather heterogeneous, especially in terms of social and political interests and foci. Thus, in the case of TO practices, spectatorship has a specific social empowering dimension that, arguably, leads in time and through further/additional actions outside performance, but stimulated by this, to actual social change and, ultimately, to a change in mentalities. Moreover, although Boal’s TO system is a form of theatrical communication that relies consistently on visuality and, in this respect, could be construed as bearing general similarities with Lepage’s practice, the dramaturgy proposed tends to be rather schematic, is always openended and focused exclusively on stimulating active response and critical reflection upon the particular issue(s) under scrutiny. Minimal space is left

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in the economy of the performance for the development of (more) complex theatre aesthetics, as is the case with Lepage’s practice. The social issue(s) addressed by TO performance are staged with rather basic, sometimes even simplistic/schematic theatrical means. Specta(c)tors are asked to engage physically with the action on stage but, most importantly, with the ideas behind it, and to find creative/performative ways to take the narrative forward towards a positive resolution that addresses the issue(s) under scrutiny. The focus is first on initiating and then on taking further/ enriching the debate, on clarifying the various aspects of the issue(s) raised, rather than on complex narrative, theatrical aesthetics or spectatorial pleasure; all these become secondary. “Specta(c)torship” encompasses, undoubtedly, a creative aspect that involves enhanced visuality throughout the live performance, but this is mainly connected to the social agency to be acquired, first through physical engagement and then through the debate; spectators are not only asked to provide feedback for the narrative presented “on stage,” but they interfere with it literally. The issue of visuality is, thus, rather functional here, more an aid in terms of engagement for audience members (unskilled in terms of performing), rather than structural. Thus, agency and not visuality/ sensoriality is the key/ transformative aspect, in terms of spectatorship, in TO practice. Yje latter are just useful, enhancing parameters. Nevertheless, spectators are invited to perform ad-hoc potential solutions to the issue(s) addressed, and only by doing so, by (en)acting ideas further negotiated through facilitated collective discussion they become “specta(c)tors.” This type of interaction never occurs in Lepagean practice. His theatre openly aims to further theatrical aesthetics via an intermedial integration of other media into performance, taking further theatre as a medium. It provides a different type of experience and engagement for the spectator. Social issues are addressed diegetically, in a rather indirect manner, as part of a wider understanding of the dynamics of contemporary world. Moreover, spectators are, indeed, engaged in the creation of meaning and the remediation of performance, yet they are never asked to play physically active roles in performance. The notion of agency is, thus, differently tackled and not necessarily mandatory as part of the experience, as an explicit task. In sum, Lepage’s theatre finds different ways to stimulate spectators and engage them with the performance, ways that do not aim to address social empowerment, like TO practice. Therefore, in defining the particularities of spectatorship in the case of Lepage’s theatre, a way further is offered by the main hypothesis of this book: that intermediality, as a mise-en-scene strategy present at different levels within the creative process and visible as a perceptual

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outcome/effect throughout the live performance, is situated at the core of the director’s practice and the main reason behind the consistent and positive response coming from different audiences, irrespective of their geographical positioning or cultural differences. Intermediality, discussed as a theoretical concept in Chapter 2 and observed in an applied manner in the solo shows in Chapter 4, is ultimately an effect performed upon the spectator, accomplished through the meeting and more often than not challenging of the audience’s expectations via a combination of multi- and intermedial configurations. As argued in Chapters 2 and 3, intermediality enhances visuality, but not only. In fact, it aims to address multi-sensorial perception and relies on an alternation of distance in spectatorship. By closely analyzing the intermedial mise-en-scene strategies developed in the solos shows, in Chapter 4, this study attempted to demonstrate that, in terms of spectatorship, intermedial strategies engender a quasi-continuous alteration of parameters of distance. This alteration, experienced recurrently throughout the live performance, has subsequent effects in the remediating relationship established between spectatorship and performance, contributing to its overall development. Moreover, besides using intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene – developed mainly through the hybridization and/or juxtaposition of conventions belonging to different media within the framing medium in theatre – the Lepagean practice introduces, with regularity and in direct connection to the particular needs of each performance, the audience into a feedback loop-circuit system that feeds the work-in-progress. Thus, an additional, co-constitutive role as feedback providers (in discussions outside the situation of live performance) is ascribed for the spectators, in the creative process. Spectatorship in the case of Robert Lepage’s theatre becomes, therefore, a complex issue that contains two main interrelated aspects: (1) an enhancement of the creative aspects of spectatorship is achieved through the quasi-continuous manipulation of distance, and (2) the formal treatment of the audience as a medium (and a “Resource”) becomes an integral part of the quasi-continuous “writing process.” Consequently, the spectator is given a co-constitutive role in the production of the performance which consists of becoming: (1) an observer2 and a user3 of the intermedial mise-en-scene strategies proposed on stage, leading to the development of his/her own cognitive strategies of 2

See Crary’s understanding Chapter 3, footnote 1, pp. 92. The term suggests an enhancement of the dynamics of inter-relation engendered by the newly established conventions of digital media, which become part of the intermedial strategies proposed by the mise-en-scene. Bolter and Grusin use the term in a similar manner in Remediation… (1999).

3

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symbolic meaning, as part of the performance, and (2) through the knowledge acquired in performance, a medium and a “Resource,” in the quasi-continuous process of remediation that takes place within the workin-progress process. Both roles ascribed are situated in interconnection and, ultimately, enhance the creative aspect of spectatorship, engaging the spectator with the performance process in a different way than in the case of the TO practice. In support of this hypothesis, the interdisciplinary perspective proposed in the Introduction – informed by Daphna Ben Chaim’s theory of distance in theatre and the remediation theory proposed by media scholars Jay David Bolter and Richard Grusin – situate theoretically the medium of theatre and the creative potential inscribed in spectatorship in a contemporary context characterized by multi-medial literacy and complex medial dynamics. As extensively discussed by Ben Chaim, an application of the notion of distance to the medium of theatre in a contemporary context leads one to the conclusion that the manipulation of distance in terms of spectatorship has been a consistent preoccupation for seminal theatre practitioners and theorists in the past century. Stanislavski sought an emotional identification of the spectator with the characters and consequently the fictional world proposed on stage, attempting to reduce distance and create an immersive experience of theatre. Brecht based his approach on a distanciation of the fictional world from spectators, aiming to achieve – via the Alienation Effect and the use of filmic narrative conventions – a critical type of engagement and experience. Artaud, with his “theatre of cruelty,” attempted to accomplish “total participation” by focusing primarily on the visceral aspects of the spectatorial experience. Above are mentioned only a few key practitioners of seminal influence that contributed, through their practice and systemic thinking, to the remediation of theatre as a medium in the 20th century and, implicitly, offered radically novel ways to look at spectatorship. Nevertheless, the number of theatre-makers that engaged with the remediation of theatre is much bigger and the landscape much more complex than it can be outlined here. So, perhaps, a slightly angle is needed. In “Discovering the Spectator: Changes to the Paradigm of Theatre in the Twentieth Century” (1997), Erika Fischer-Lichte provides a theoretical framework to understand the fundamental transformations that took place within the medium of theatre in the twentieth century. The scholar maintains: At the beginning of this century, the structure of theatrical communication in Europe experienced fundamental change. While since the end of the

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage 279 eighteenth century focus has been centred on the characters onstage and the internal communication between them, the focus of interest now shifted to the relations between the stage and the spectator: the external communication between stage and audience (1997, 41).

Thus – as the scholar suggests – the “passivity” of the spectators in the mainstream theatre of the time was overtly challenged by the new(er) tendencies. The resulting list of “revolution(s)” that occurred within the medium, all connected to an escape from a crisis in culture, can be ultimately interpreted as attempts to alter the status of spectatorship. In support of her thesis, Fischer-Lichte puts forward Vsevolod Meyerhold’s concept of theatre, based on four fundamental elements: the author, the director, the actor, and the spectator, in which the later becomes “the fourth creator” and is asked to “creatively complete, in imagination, that which the stage only indicates” (Fischer-Lichte 1997, 42). In sum, as a consequence of this paradigmatic shift, a new role is given to the spectator. The new(er) theatre practices, of the 20th century, including the various historical avant-gardes seeking to revolutionize the medium and/or to find its specificity were, all, situated in direct or implicit interconnection with the issue of spectatorship, and attempted to engender change whilst theatre, as a medium, underwent a process of quasi-continuous remediation, which – I suggest, speaking with Ben Chaim – referred mainly and consistently to the manipulation of distance. The manipulation of distance in terms of spectatorship became even more evident in contemporary (Western) practice. The pervasive impact of various new(er) media in the present cultural economy brought with it an accentuation and diversification of remediation strategies in theatre, all aiming to secure the sensation of authenticity of experience, ultimately validating the medium through the quality of its spectatorship. Parameters of distance continue(d) to be re-configured, especially since modernist attempts to remediate theatre started to loose their appeal for the contemporary spectator, multi-medially literate, living in the here and now and aspiring to acquire knowledge and aesthetic gratification, if possible, instantly. More recently, experimental practices blurred the boundaries between spectating and performing, leading to an increased and diversified interaction between the world on stage and the audience, calling into question the very notion of spectatorship as it has been traditionally understood. The result of all this complex process is that, at the present moment, remediation strategies are more often than not imbued with multi- or intermedial configurations and engaging with narrative and aesthetic strategies borrowed from other media. The tendency can be recognized

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across the wider spectrum of Western theatre practice, whether mainstream or experimental and spectatorship continues to expand its active/creative role within the economy of performance. Thus, the shift signaled by Fisher-Lichte, as pertaining to the first decades of the 20th century, has become omnipresent and theatrical communication turned into an even more complex activity, sharing values, modes of expression and reception with the digital culture. Consequently, as discussed extensively throughout this book, to secure an “authenticity” of experience in terms of spectatorship, theatre, as framing medium, incorporates elements (apparatuses, aesthetic and narrative conventions, etc.) pertaining to other media perceived as culturally dominant. It does so through stage configurations able to engender, combine and alternate the sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy – to speak with Bolter and Grusin. The spectators’ participation is, in this way, enhanced, whilst their medial competences are capitalized upon and, potentially, even furthered throughout the performance, through the intermedial effects and their impact upon the construction of meaning. This development occurs, also, as it has been theoretically argued in Chapter 3 and analyzed in detail in Chapter 4. However, in Lepage’s practice, an additional level of remediation is added to the equation since the relationship established between the artistic outcome (the performance) and reception (the audience) is not linear, but rather circular, including the feedback loop-circuit. This leads to a situation of quasi-continuous interaction between director’s practice and spectators, as part of the workin-progress. The performance is therefore, shaped, re-shaped and refined into of a “world of theatrical meaning” in quasi-continuous transformation. Moreover, theatrical communication, as such, becomes a central theme in Lepage’s practice at diegetic, aesthetic and/or formal levels, and its centrality reflects further upon on the role of medial communication in contemporary culture. Any examination of Lepage’s theatre practice – I suggest – needs to take this meta-dramaturgical, thematic, formal/aesthetic and ultimately philosophical aspect into account, as it connects to the particular “vision of the world” proposed by the director through his performances. His proposition can be interpreted as startling, uncanny, and/or stimulating – as the various sources investigated in this study suggest – but it ultimately leads to the construction of a sensorial perspective upon the narrative unfolding on stage. This shifts the focus from immediate and (perhaps) rather indiscriminate spectatorial attention towards the more formal and, by extension, self-reflective aspects of performance, ultimately feeding

Intermediality and Spectatorship in the Theatre Work of Robert Lepage 281

into an acknowledgement of alternating sensations of immediacy and hypermediacy in terms of perception. Therefore, by oscillating between the sensible – the intelligible and the logical – and the sensitive – the sensorial –, the two approaches towards the “construction” of reality pertaining to Western culture, intertwined a they appear in the Lepagean intermedial mise-en-scene, a particular type of theatrical communication is proposed, which constitutes the directorial signature of the Québécois theatre-maker. Through an in-depth analysis of the solo works developed by Robert Lepage so far, this study aimed to look at the ways in which intermedial strategies of mise-en scene have been developed as part of the director’s practice in the past four decades, and to find common denominators in terms of their effect on spectatorship. Although – as mentioned in the Introduction – the choice of corpus for this study limits itself to the solo creations by Lepage, considered for reasons already outlined as the most appropriate case studies for the development of a thorough analysis of his intermedial practice, I suggest that similar strategies have been developed, with arguably similar outcomes in terms of spectatorial impact, for collective original creations such as: The Trilogy of Dragons (1985 and 2003), The Polygraph (1987), Seven Streams of River Ota (1994), The Geometry of Miracles (1998) etc.,4 with the corollary that in those instances the intermedial strategies have been developed in accordance to the particular “Resources” used (i.e. multiple cast leading to different dramaturgical and/or aesthetic decisions taken collectively, potentially different medial dynamics, etc.). However, the suggestion remains that an analysis of the collective works, using the theoretical framework and methodology developed throughout this study, would lead to similar findings in terms of the condition of spectatorship. The present study engaged with an exploration of the inter-connections between the intermediality of Lepage’s theatre and the changes engendered in spectatorship. The Introduction surveyed the existing body of research related to Robert Lepage’s theatre work and proposed an interdisciplinary framework as a basis for further discussion, from a theatre and media studies combined perspective. Chapter 1 situated Lepage’s artistic development and his specific method of making performance in the context of the Québécois theatre, characterized by hybridity and a quasi-continuous need for affirmation/self-expression. Chapter 2 proposed a discussion of the different understandings of intermediality, as a concept, and situated them in relation to contemporary 4

For a complete list of the original performances and their impact, see Appendix A and B.

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theatre. Chapter 3 suggested a model of contemporary spectatorship applicable to Lepage’s practice, based on an interdisciplinary theatre and media studies perspective, and further engaged with discussing the director’s specific treatment of the audience as a medium and a “Resource,” highlighting changes that occurred, in time, in his practice. Chapter 4 used the solo shows – Vinci (1986), Needles and Opium (1991), Elsinore (1995), far side of the moon (2000) and The Andersen Project (2005) – as case studies, in order to observe in detail the intermedial strategies of mise-en scene at play in performance and account for the changes in spectatorship. This final chapter attempted to corroborate findings and present a theoretical conclusion. As suggested throughout this book, in Robert Lepage’s theatre, the spectator plays a co-constitutive role in the production of performance. This role has two main aspects situated in interconnection. In the situation of live performance, the spectator is an observer/user of the intermedial strategies of mise-en-scene performed on stage. In guided discussions outside the situation of live performance, the spectator becomes a feedback provider, whose response is reinvested as a “Resource” in the process of performance remediation. Nevertheless, the fact that these roles are not perceived by spectators as separate – as scholarly studies, interviews and reviews tend to confirm –, but rather as integrated and, moreover, stimulating, underline the notion that Lepage’s practice brings with it a discrete, yet empowering quality in terms of spectatorial experience, beyond its potential for furthering medial literacy. Furthermore, the consistent novelty of the director’s intermedial approach and the preoccupation for meeting spectatorial expectations in order to stimulate sensorial, cognitive and interpretative abilities, underlines its contemporary relevance. Ultimately, one can safely state that Robert Lepage’s theatre practice constitutes a relevant example of the ability of theatre, as an artistic field and medium, to reinvent itself for the future.

APPENDIX A CHRONOLOGY OF ROBERT LEPAGE’S DIRECTORIAL WORK (1979-2015)

Theatre 1979 L’Attaque quotidienne Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Humm… (Québec-City). Arlequin, serviteur de deux maîtres By Carlo Goldoni Director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Cégep Lévis-Lauzon (Lévis, Québec). La Ferme des animaux (French version) An adaptation of Animal Farm by Georges Orwell Collective creation by: Paule Fillion, Michèle Laperrière, Robert Lepage and Suzanne Poliquin Director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Humm… (Québec-City). Les Rois mangent Co-writer, director, set-designer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre de Bon ‘Humeur (Québec-City). 1980 Saturday Night Taxi Collective creation by: Richard Fréchette, Francine Lafontaine and Robert Lepage. Co-writer, Director and Performer: Robert Lepage

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Appendix A

Producer: Théâtre Humm… (Québec-City). Oomeragh ooh! By Jean Truss Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Les Marionnettes du Grand Théâtre (Québec-City). L’École, c’est secondaire Collective creation by: Camil Bergeron, Denis Bernard, Robert Lepage and Michel Nadeau Co-writer, director and performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). 1981 Dix petits nègres (French version) By Agatha Christie Director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Collège Lévis-Lauzon (Levis, Québec). Le coq (French version) An adaptation of the comics-book La Zizanie by: Albert Uderzo and René Goscinny Director: Robert Lepage Producer: La Troupe Méchatigan (Ste-Marie-de Beauce, Québec). Jour de pluie, rêves de nuit By Gérard Bibeau Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Les Marionnettes du Grand Théâtre (Québec-City). 1982 Pas d’chicane dans la cabane Collective creation by: Michel Bernatchez, Odile Pelletier, Marco Poulin Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre d’bon‘Humeur (Québec-City). Claudico bric-à-brac By Luc Simard Director: Robert Lepage

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Producer: Les Marionnettes du Grand Théâtre (Québec-City). En attendant Collective creation by: Richard Fréchette, Robert Lepage and Jacques Lessard Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). À demi-lune Collective creation by: Johanne Bolduc, Estelle Dutil and Robert Lepage Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). 1983 Dieu et l’amour complexe (original French version) Based on a collection of texts written by Woody Allen Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Conservatoire d’art dramatique de Québec (Québec-City). Coriolan et le monstre aux milles têtes (French adaptation) Based on Coriolanus by William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Carmen An adaptation of Carmen by Georges Bizet Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre d’bon ‘Humeur (Québec-City). 1984 Le bal des bals Co-writer, director: Robert Lepage Producer: Parcs Canada (Québec-City). Circulations (original French version) Collective creation by: Francois Beausoleil, Bernard Bonnier, Lise Castonguay and Robert Lepage. Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City).

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Appendix A

Tours: 1984: Rimouski, Chicoutimi, Jonquière, Lévis, Québec, Montréal, Ottawa, Toronto, Sudbury, Winnipeg, Edmonton and Vancouver, CA. Solange passe By: Jocelyne Corbeil and Lucile Godbout Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre de la Bordée (Québec-City). Stand-By: 5 minutes Collective creation by: Jean-Jacques Boutet, Louis-Georges Girard, Ginette Guay, Martine Ouellet and Marie St-Cyr Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre de la Bordée (Québec-City). Partir en peur Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre des Confettis (Québec-City). 1985 À propos de la demoiselle qui pleurait By André Jean Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Point de fuite Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Histoires sorties du tiroir By Gérard Bibeau Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Les Marionnettes du Grand Théâtre (Québec-City). Suite californienne (French version) By Neil Simon Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre du Vieux Port de Québec and Théâtre du Bois de Coulogne (Québec).

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Coup de poudre Collective creation by: Josée Deschênes, Martin Dion, Simon Fortin, Benoit Gouin and Hélène Leclerc Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Artéfact and Parcs Canada (Québec-City). La trilogie des dragons (original French version) The Dragon’s trilogy (English version) Collective creation by: Marie Brassard, Jean Casaut, Lorraine Coté, Marie Cignac, Robert Lepage and Marie Michaud Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Set-design: Jean François Couture, Gilles Dubé Costumes: Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt Original music: Robert Caux Light-design: Lucie Bazzo, Louis- Marie Lavoie, Robert Lepage Producers: (1st and 2nd stage) Théâtre Repère (Québec-City) and (in addition) Festival de Théâtre des Amériques (Montréal) (3rd stage). Tours: 1985: (1st stage) – Québec-City (Nov.); 1986: (2nd stage) – QuébecCity, CA and Toronto, CA (May); 1987: Montréal, CA (Jan.) and Ottawa, CA (March); 1987 (3rd stage): Montréal, CA (June); New York, USA, London, UK (July) and Limoges, FR (Oct.); 1988: Adelaide, AU (March), Toronto, CA (May) and Montréal, CA (Sept.); 1989: Brussels, BE (March), Wroclaw, PL (April), Paris, FR (April-May), Amsterdam, NL (June), Hamburg, DE and Barcelona, ESP (July); 1990: Winnipeg, CA (May), Chicago, USA (June), Mexico-City, MX (Aug.), Knoxville and Los Angeles, USA (Sept.); 1991: Montana and Boston, USA (Feb.), Basel, CH (Aug.), Québec-City, CA (Sept.-Oct.), Milan, IT and Copenhagen, DK (Oct.), London and Glasgow, UK (Nov.); 1992: Jerusalem, Il and Chicago, USA (May), Ottawa, CA (June), Salzburg, AT, Stockholm, SE and Helsinki, FI (Aug.). 1986 Vinci (original French version) Vinci (English version, translation by Linda Gaboriau) Writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Light-design: Eric Fauque Graphics and slides montage: Dave Lepage Soundscape concept & live performance: Daniel Toussaint Producers: Théâtre de Quat‘sous (Montréal) and Théâtre Repère (QuébecCity).

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Tours: 1986: Montréal, CA (March-April), Québec-City, CA (April), Chicoutimi, Trois-Rivières, Sherbrooke, Rivière-du-Loup, Rimouski, Ottawa, Laval, La Pocatière, Baie-Comeau, Granby, Drummondville, Rouyn and Val d'Or, CA (Sept.), Limoges and Rennes, FR (Oct.); 1987: Québec-City, CA (May-June), Nyon, CH (July), Avignon, FR (July-Aug.), London, UK (Aug.-Sept.), Dublin, IE (Oct.), Paris, FR (Dec.); 1988: Toronto, CA (Jan.) and Calgary, CA (Feb.). Le bord d’extrême An adaption of The Seventh Seal by Ingmar Bergman Co-director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Comment devenir parfait en trois jours (French version) An adaptation by Gilles Gauthier of Be a Perfect Person in Just 3 Days by Stephen Manes Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre des Confettis (Québec-City). 1987 Le polygraphe (original French version) The Polygraph (English version) Collective creation by: Marie Brassard and Robert Lepage Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Set-design: Robert Lepage and Jean Hazel Light-design: Robert Lepage and Eric Fauque Slides: Dave Lepage Music composition: Janitors Animater, Pierre Brousseau and Yves Chamberland Music performed live: Pierre Brousseau Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Tours: 1988: Québec-City, CA (May) and Montréal, CA (Nov.); 1989: Québec-City, CA (Jan.) and London, UK (Feb.); 1990: Toronto, CA (Feb.), Amsterdam, NL and Nuremberg, DE (June), Mauberge, FR, Hamburg, DE and Barcelona, ESP (July); Salzburg, AT (Aug.), New York, USA (Oct.); 1991: Ottawa, CA (March), Québec-City, CA (Sept.Oct.); 1992: Edmonton, CA, Brussels, BE and Glasgow, UK (April), Berlin, DE, Frankfurt, DE and Vienna, AT (May), Basel, CH (Oct.), Zurich, CH, Arnheim, NL and Paris, FR (Nov.) and Dieppe, FR (Dec.); 1994: Lisbon, PT and Cherbourg, FR (May); 1995: Hong-Kong (Feb.).

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En pleine nuit une sirène Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre de la Bordée (Québec-City). Pour en finir une fois pour toutes avec Carmen An adaptation by Robert Lepage of Carmen by Georges Bizet Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre de Quat ‘sous (Montréal). 1988 Les plaques tectoniques (original French version) Tectonic Plates (English version) Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City) and Cultural Industry (London). Le songe d’une nuit d’été (French version) By William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal). 1989 Les Plaques tectoniques (French version ; 2nd adaptation) Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City). Roméo et Juliette (French version) By: William Shakespeare Co-director, set and costume designer: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City) and Night Cap Productions (Saskatoon, Québec). La vie de Galilée (French version) By Bertolt Brecht Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal). Écho (French version) An adaptation of A Nun’s Diary by Ann Diamond Director: Robert Lepage

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Producers: Théâtre 1774 (Montréal) and Théâtre Passe Muraille (Toronto). Mère Courage et ses enfants (French version) By: Bertolt Brecht Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Conservatoire d’art dramatique de Québec (Québec-City). C’est ce soir qu’on saoûle Sophie Saucier By Sylvie Provost Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Les Productions Ma Chère Pauline (Montréal). 1990 La visite de la vieille dame (French version) By: Friedrich Dürrenmatt Director: Robert Lepage Producer: National Arts Center (Ottawa). Tectonic plates (English version, 3rd adaptation) Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City), Festival de théâtre des Amériques (Montréal) and Cultural Industry (London). Tectonic plates (English version, 4th adaptation) Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City), Festival de théâtre des Amériques (Montréal) and Cultural Industry (London). Tours: 1990: Glasgow and London, UK. 1991 Les aiguilles et l'opium (original French version) Needles and Opium (English version) Writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Double: Claude Lemay Set-design: Carl Fillion Images: Jacques Collin and Pierre Desjardins Music composition and live performance: Robert Caux Producers: Les Productions AJP Inc., Les Productions d'Albert Inc. (Québec-City) and National Arts Centre (Ottawa).

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Tours: 1992: Frankfurt am Main, DE (March), London, UK (April-June), Florence, IT (Oct.), Barcelona, ESP, London, UK and Paris, FR (Nov.), New York, USA (Dec.); 1993: Montréal, CA (Jan.-March), Sherbrooke, CA (March), Québec-City, CA (June), Tokyo, JP (Oct.); 1994: Sydney, AU (Jan.), Toronto, CA and Burlington, USA (April), Chicago, USA (June), Stockholm, SE, Basel, CH and Budapest, HU (Sept,), Arnheim, Leiden, Enschede and Haarlem, NL (Oct.), Hasselt, Turnhout, Neerpelt, NL and Chalon-sur-Saône, FR (Nov.), Rungis, FR (Dec.); 1995: Chicoutimi and Amos, CA (Jan.), Baie-Comeau, Rimouski, Trois-Rivières (Feb.), Vancouver, Rivière-du-Loup and Montréal, CA (March), Montréal, CA, Zürich, CH, and Glasgow, UK (April), Roenne, St-Étienne, Chambery, Privas, Valence, Meylan and Villeurbanne, FR (Nov.), Nagoya, JP (Dec.); 1996: Gatineau, CA and St-Louis, USA (Jan.); 1997: Rome, Girona and Bologna, IT (Oct.); Prato, IT (Nov.); Oporto and Gibellina, IT (Dec.); 1998: Messina, Brescia, Bagnacavallo, Ancona, Pisa, Rimini, IT (Jan.), Udine, Milan, Pavia, Genova and Parma, IT (Feb.), Curitiba and Rio de Janeiro, BRE (Sept); Mexico-City and Guanajuato, MX (Oct.), Gijon, ESP, Vitoria, ESP and Siena, IT (Nov.), Valladolid, ESP (Dec.); 1999: Rome and Rubiera, IT (Jan.). Los Cincos soles By students of the National Theatre School of Canada Director: Robert Lepage Producer: National Theatre School of Canada (Montréal). Les plaques tectoniques (French version, 5th adaptation) Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City) and National Arts Centre (Ottawa). 1992 Alanienouidet (original French version) By Marianne Ackermann Director: Robert Lepage Producer: National Arts Center (Ottawa). Le cycle de Shakespeare: Macbeth, Coriolan et La tempête By William Shakespeare (French translation by Michel Garneau) Director: Robert Lepage

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Producers: Théâtre Repère (Québec-City), Le Manège (Maubeuge), Am Turm Theater (Frankfurt am Main) and Festival d'automne de Paris. A Midsummer Night's Dream By William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Royal National Theatre (London). La tempête (French version) By William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Atelier de recherche théâtrale d'Ottawa (Ottawa). Macbeth By William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Theatre Department, Toronto University (Toronto). 1993 Shakespeare's Rapid Eye Movement Collection of ‘dream’ texts by William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Bayerisches Staatsschauspiel (Munich). Macbeth and La tempête (Japanese version) By: William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Tokyo Globe Theatre. National Capitale Nationale (English and French version) By: Jean-Marc Dalpé and Vivian Laxdal Director: Robert Lepage Producers: National Arts Center and Théâtre de la Vieille 17 (Ottawa). 1994 Noises, Sounds and Sweet Airs (original English version) By Michael Nyman Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Tokyo Globe Theatre and Shin-Kobe Oriental Theatre (Tokyo).

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Ett Drömspel (original Swedish version) By August Strindberg Director, set-designer: Robert Lepage Producer: Kungliga Dramatiska Teatern (Stockholm). Les sept branches de la rivière Ôta (original French version) The Seven Streams of the River Ota (English version) Co-writer, director: Robert Lepage Collective creation (1st stage) by: Eric Bernier, Normand Bissonnette, Rebecca Blankenship, Anne-Marie Cadieux, Normand Daneaux, Richard Fréchette, Marie Cignac and Ghislaine Vincent Collective creation (2nd stage) by: Eric Bernier, Normand Bissonnette, Rebecca Blankenship, Marie Brassard, Anne-Marie Cadieux, Normand Daneaux, Richard Fréchette, Patrick Goyette, Marie Cignac and Ghislaine Vincent Set-design: Carl Fillion Costumes: Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt, Yvan Gaudin Images: Jacques Collin, Eric Fauque Light-design: Sonoyo Nishikawa Music composed and performed live: Michel F. Coté Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City). Co-producers: (1st stage) Edinburgh Art Festival, Manchester 94-City of Drama (Manchester), Maison des Arts (Créteil); (2nd stage) in addition: Wiener Festwochen (Vienna), Les Productions d’Albert (Ste-Foy, Québec), Le Centre Culturel de Drummondville (Québec), Le Centre Culturel de l’Université de Sherbrooke (Québec), Les Productions Specta (Trois Rivières, Québec), Theaterformen 95 (Braunschweig), Change Performing Arts (Milan), IMBE Barcelona (Barcelona), Präsidialabteilung der Stadt Zurich and Zürcher Theater Spectakel (Zurich), Aarhus Festuge (Aarhus), Bunkamura (Tokyo), Harbourfront Centre (Toronto), Kampnagel (Hamburg), and (3rd stage) in addition: Carrefour International de Théâtre (Québec), Theater der Welt ’96 (Berlin), Staatschauspiel Dresden (Dresden), Kobenhaven ’96 (Copenhagen), Ludwigsburger Schlossfestspiele (Ludwigsburg), Stockholm Stadstheater (Stockholm) and Brooklyn Academy of Music (New York). Tours: 1994 (1st stage): Edinburgh, UK (Aug.), Glasgow and Manchester, UK (Oct.), London, UK and Paris, FR (Nov.); 1995 (2nd stage): Vienna, AT and Braunschweig, DE (June), Spoleto, IT and Barcelona, ESP (July), Zurich, CH (Aug.), Aarhus, DK (Sept.), Tokyo, JP (Oct.), Hamburg, DE (Dec.), 1996 (3rd stage): Québec-City, CA (May), Vienna, AT and Dresden, DE (June), Copenhagen, DK (Aug.), Ludwigsburg, DE and

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London, UK (Sept.), Stockholm, SE (Oct.), Créteil, FR (Nov.), New York, USA (Dec.); 1997: Chicago, USA (May), Montréal, CA (May-June); 1998: Perth, AU (Feb.) and Adelaide, AU (Feb.-March), Wellington, NZ (March). 1995 Elseneur (French version) Elsinore (English version) Based on Hamlet by William Shakespeare Director, performer: Robert Lepage English version performed by Peter Darling since September 1997 Set-design: Carl Fillion Costumes: Yvan Gaudin Lights: Alain Nortie, Nancy Mongrain Images: Jacques Collin Video animation: Michel Pétrin Music composed and performed by: Robert Caux Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City). Co-producers: Musée d’art contemporain (Québec), Les Productions d’Albert (Ste-Foy, Québec), Le Centre Culturel de Drummondville (Québec), Le Centre Culturel de l’Université de Sherbrooke (Québec), Les Productions Specta (Trois Rivières, Québec), Le Manégé (Mauberge), Hebbel Theatre (Berlin), Rotterdamse Schouwburg (Rotterdam), La Maison des Arts (Créteil), kunstenFESTIVALdesArts (Bruxelles), Helsinki Festival (Helsinki), Göteborg Dans & Theater Festival (Göteborg), National Theatret Oslo (Oslo), Aarhus Festuge (Aarhus), Kampnagel (Hamburg), Théâtre de l’Union (Limoges) and Festival International des Francophonies Limousin (Limoges). Tours: 1995: Montréal, CA (Nov.), Québec-City and Sherbrooke, CA (Nov.-Dec.); 1996: Chicago, USA and Trois-Rivières, CA (Feb.), Mauberge, FR (March), Créteil, FR and Toronto, CA (April), Berlin, DE (May), Brussels, BE (May-June), Helsinki, FI and Göteborg, SE (Aug.), Oslo, NO and Rotterdam, NL (Sept.), Limoges, FR and Palermo, IT (Oct.), Udine, IT, Nottingham and Newcastle, UK (Nov.), Glasgow and Cambridge, UK (Dec.); 1997: London, UK (Jan.), Ottawa, CA and Stamford, USA (Sept.), New York, USA, Dublin, IE and Madrid, ESP (Oct.). Le songe d'une nuit d'été (French version) By William Shakespeare

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Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Ex Machina and Théâtre Le Trident (Québec-City). 1996 The Polygraph (Japanese version) Translated by Kazuko Matsuoka Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Shinjuku-Nishitoyama Development Company (Tokyo and Osaka). 1997 Needles and Opium (Spanish and Italian versions) Writer, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Ségnali Culture (Rome). 1998 La géométrie des miracles (original French version) The Geometry of Miracles (English version) Collective creation by: Tea Alagic, Daniel Bélanger, Jean- Francois Blanchard, Marie Brassard, Denis Gaudreault, Anthony Howell, Kevin McCoy, Thaddeus Phillips, Rodrigue Proteau and Catherine Tardif Co-writer, director: Robert Lepage Set-design: Carl Fillion Costumes: Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt Light-design: Eric Fauque Images: Jacques Collin, Carl Fillion Music composed and performed by: Michel F. Coté, Diane Labrosse Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City). Co-producers: Salzburger Festspiele, (Salzburg), Ysarca (Madrid), Maison des Arts (Créteil) Festival d'Automne à Paris, Royal National Theatre (London), Tramway-Cultural and Leisure Services and Glasgow City Council (Glasgow), EXPO '98 (Lisbon), Change Performing Arts (Milan), Harbourfront Centre (Toronto), Hancher Auditorium (Iowa-City), Brooklyn Academy of Music (New York), Sydney Festival, Walker Art Center, Guthrie Theater and Northrop Auditorium (Minneapolis), Le Manège (Maubeuge), La Maison de la culture de Gatineau, Le Centre culturel de Drummondville (Québec), Les Productions d'Albert (Ste-Foy,

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Québec), Le Centre culturel de l'Université de Sherbrooke (Québec), Le Palace (GranBy:) and Wexner Center for the Arts (Columbus). Tours: 1998: Toronto, CA (April), Salzburg, AT and Lisbon, PT (Aug.), Barcelona, ESP (Oct.), Madrid, ESP, Udine, IT, Paris and Mauberge, FR (Nov.); 1999: Glasgow, UK (Jan.), London, UK (April), Singapore-City, SG and Jerusalem, IL (June), Minneapolis and Iowa City, USA (Sept.), Columbus, USA (Oct.), New York, USA (Nov.-Dec.); 2000: Montréal, CA (March), Chicago, USA and Bogota, CO (April), North Adams, USA (June). La tempête (French version) The Tempest (original English version) By: William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina, Grand Théâtre de Québec and Théâtre du Trident (Québec-City), and National Arts Center (Ottawa). Kindertotenlieder (The Song Cycle) By Gustav Mahler Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Cultural Industry (London). La Celestina (Swedish version) By Fernando de Rojas Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Kungliga Dramatiska Teatern (Stockholm). 1999 Zulu Time (a Multimedia Performance) Collective creation by: M. F. Coté, Claire Cignac, Jinny Jessica Jacinto, Diane Labrosse, Marco Poulain, R. Proteau and guests: Yvon Fortin, Alain Sébastien Gauthier, Granular Synthesis, Lydie Jean-dit-Panel, Gordon Monahan, Pierrick Sorrin and Vorn/Demers. Co-author, director, set-designer: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Real World Productions (UK) Co-producers: Maison des Arts (Créteil), Zürcher Theater Spektakel (Zurich) and Festival Automne à Paris. Tours: 1999: Zurich, CH (Aug.), Créteil, FR (Oct.); 2000: Québec-City, CA (May); 2002: Montréal, CA (Jan.).

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Jean-sans-nom (musical tragedy) Based on the novel Famille-sans-nom by Jules Verne Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina and Gestion Son Image (Québec-City), and CDC (Nantes). 2000 La face cachée de la Lune (original French version) The Far Side of the Moon (English version) Writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Writing consultant: Adam Nashman Performed by Yves Jacques since September 2001 Double: Pierre Bernier Scenography consultant: Carl Fillion Costumes: Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt Puppetry conception: Pierre Robitaille and Sylvie Courbron Light design assistant: Bernard White Images: Jacques Collin and Véronique Couturier Original Music: Laurie Anderson © 2000 Difficult Music (BMI) Sound montage: Jean-Sébastien Côté Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City) Co-producers: Aarhus Festuge (Aarhus) Bergen Internasjionale Festival (Bergen), Berliner Festspiele (Berlin), BITE:03 Barbican (London), Bonlieu Scène Nationale (Annecy), Cal Performances, University of California at Berkeley, Change Performing Arts (Milan), Cultural Industry (London), Deutsches Schauspielhaus (Hamburg), Dublin Theatre Festival, Espace Malraux Scène Nationale Chambéry-Savoie (Chambéry), Festival de Otono (Madrid), FIDENA (Bochum), Göteborg Dans & Teater Festival (Göteborg), Harbourfront Centre (Toronto), La Comète-Scène nationale de Châlons-en-Champagne, La Coursive (La Rochelle), Le Manège (Maubeuge), Théâtre du Trident (Québec-City), Le Volcan Maison de la Culture (Le Havre), Les Cultures du Travail-Forbach 2000 (Forbach), Le Maillon-Théâtre de Strasbourg (Strasbourg), Les Célestins-Théâtre de Lyon, Maison des Arts (Créteil), Northern Stage at Newcastle Playhouse (Newcastle), Onassis Cultural Center (Athens), Ysarca (Madrid), Schauspielhaus Zurich, Setagaya Public Theatre (Tokyo), SFU Woodward's Cultural Programs (Vancouver), Steirischer Herbst (Graz), Théâtre de Namur (Namur), Teatro Nacional São João (Porto), Théâtre d'Angoulême and Scène Nationale (Angoulême) Théâtre de Sartrouville & des Yvelines (Sartrouville), The Henson International Festival of Puppet

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Theater (New York), The Irvine Barclay Operating Company (Irvine), The Royal National Theatre (London), The Sydney Festival, TNT-Théâtre National de Toulouse, Tramway Dark Lights (Glasgow) and UC Davis Presents (Davis). Tours: 2000: Québec-City, CA (Feb.-March), Toronto, CA (April), Göteborg, SE (Aug.), Aarhus, DK (Aug.-Sept.), New York, USA and Berlin, DE (Sept.), Forbach, FR and Irvine, USA (Oct.), Graz, AT, Las Palmas and Madrid, ESP (Nov.), Le Havre, FR (Dec.); 2001: Sydney, AU (Jan.), Annecy and Paris-Créteil, FR (March), Mauberge, FR (April), Newcastle and Glasgow, UK (April), Berkeley and Davis, USA (May), Montréal, CA and Sao Paulo, BRE (June), London, UK (July), Namur, BE (Oct.), Hamburg, DE and Porto, PT (Dec.); 2002: Angouleme, Strasbourg and Chambery, FR (Jan.), Toulouse, FR and Los Angeles, USA (Feb.), Wellington, NZ and Ottawa, CA (March), Hanover, USA and MexicoCity, MX (April), Bochum, DE and Bergen, NO (May), La Rochelle, FR (June), Vancouver, CA (Sept.), Tokyo, JP (Oct.), Tsukuba, JP and Seattle, USA (Nov.), Milan, IT and Strasbourg, FR (Dec.); 2003: Hong Kong, CE (Feb.), Seoul, KR (March), Seattle, USA (April), Montréal, CA (MayJune), Dublin, IE (Sept.-Oct.), London, UK (Oct.), Lyon, FR (Nov.-Dec.); 2005: Cambridge, UK (Feb.), Ann Arbour, USA (March), Paris, FR (JuneJuly), Zurich, CH (July); 2007: Moscow, RU (July); 2011: Québec-City, CA (Jan.-Feb.), Sartrouville, FR (April), Chalons-en-Champagne, FR and Vienna, AT (May), Athens, GR (Oct.); 2012: Vancouver, CA (Nov.); 2013: Santiago de Chile, CL (Jan.). The Polygraph (Italian and Spanish versions) Co-writer, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Segnali Culture (Rome), Teatro Municipal Udine (Udine), and Mercat de les Flors (Barcelona). 2001 La Casa Azul (original French version) Apasionada (English version) By Sophie Faucher Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), Théâtre de Quat‘sous (Montréal), Ysarca (Madrid) and Wiener Festwochen (Vienna).

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2003 La trilogie des dragons (2nd generation) Collective creation by: Marie Brassard, Jean Casault, Lorraine Coté, Marie Cignac, Robert Lepage and Marie Michaud. Co-writer, director: Robert Lepage Set-design: Jean François Couture, Gilles Dubé Costumes: Marie-Chantale Vaillancourt Images: Jacques Collin and Lionel Arnould Light-design: Sonoyo Nishikawa Original music: Robert Caux Music performed live: Jean-Sébastien Coté Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City). Co-producers: Festival de théâtre des Amériques (Montréal), Ysarca (Madrid), Les Francophonies en Limousin (Limoges), Wiener Festwochen (Vienna), Berliner Festspiele (Berlin) and Zagreb World Theatre Festival (Croatia). Tours: 2003: Montréal, CA (Jan.), Zagreb, CR and Berlin, DE (Sept.), Limoges, FR and Madrid, ESP (Oct.), Québec-City, CA (Dec.); 2004: Hamburg, DE (Aug.), Warsaw, PL (Oct.); 2005: London, UK (Sept.), Manchester, UK (Sept.-Oct.); 2006: Perth, AU (Feb.), Wellington, NZ (March); 2007: Chalons-en-Champagne, FR (May), Zurich, CH and Moscow, RU (June), Lisbon, PT (Oct.). 2004 La Celestina (Spanish version) Adaptation by Alvaro Garçias Meseguer Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), Fundacio de la Comunitat Valenciana Ciutat de les Arts Esceniques (Generalitat Valenciana), Forum Barcelona 2004 and Theatre Lliure (Barcelona), Salamanca 2005 – Plaza Mayor de Europa (Salamanca), Teatro Cuyas de las Palmas de Gran Canaria (Las Palmas) and Ysarca (Madrid). The Busker's Opera Inspired by John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Le Festival Montréal en lumière (Montréal).

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2005 Le Projet Andersen (original French version) The Andersen Project (English version) Writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Script collaborators: Peder Bjurman and Marie Cignac Performed by Yves Jacques starting with 2007 Pupeteer: Jean- Nicholas Marquis Associated set-designer: Jean Le Bourdais Costumes: Catherine Higgins Images by: Jacques Colin, Véronique Couturier and David Leclerc Sound-design: Jean- Sebastien Côté Producers: Ex Machina and Théâtre du Trident (Québec-City) and Hans Christian Andersen 2005 Foundation (Copenhagen). Co-producers: Bite:06 Barbican (London), Bonlieu Scène Nationale (Annecy), Festival de Otoño de la Comunidad de Madrid, Cal Performances (Berkeley), Canadian Stage (Toronto), Carolina Performing Arts, Célestins-Théâtre de Lyon, Change Performing Arts (Milan), Emerson College (Boston), La Comète-Scène nationale de Châlons-enChampagne, La Coursive (La Rochelle), Le Festival d'automne à Paris, Le Grand Théâtre de Québec, Le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal), Le Théâtre Français du Centre National des Arts d'Ottawa, Le Théâtre National de Bordeaux Aquitaine, Le Théâtre National de Chaillot (Paris), Le Théâtre National de Toulouse Midi-Pyrénées, Le Volcan-Scène nationale du Havre, LG Arts Center (Seoul), Maison des Arts (Créteil), MC2: Maison de la Culture de Grenoble, National, Chiang Kai-Shek Cultural Centre (Taipei), Ysarca (Madrid), Setagaya Public Theatre (Tokyo), spielzeiteuropa and Berliner Festspiele (Berlin), Teatre Lliure (Barcelona), Sydney Festival, Théâtre de Caen and Wiener Festwochen (Vienna). Tours: 2005: Québec-City, CA (Feb.), Kopenhagen, DK (May), Chalonsen-Champagne and Paris, FR (Nov.); 2006: Sydney, AU and London, UK (Jan.), Ottawa and Montréal, CA (April), Lyon, FR and Tokyo, JP (June), Yamaguchi, Kochi and Kobe, JP (July), Rome, IT (Oct.), Bordeaux, FR and Madrid, ESP (Nov.), Berlin, DE (Dec.); 2007: La Rochelle, FR (Jan.), Strasbourg, FR (Feb.), Annecy, Grenoble and Toulouse, FR (March), Ottawa, CA (March-April), Vancouver, CA (May), Moscow, RU (July), Seoul, KR and Taipei, TW (Sept.), Montréal, CA (Oct.-Nov.), Paris, FR (Dec.); 2008: Barcelona, ESP (Feb.), Le Havre and Caen, FR (April), Berkeley, USA (May-June) and Hong-Kong, CN (June); 2009: Auckland, NZ (March), Milan, IT (April), Vienna, AT (May), Philadelphia, USA

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(June), Mexico-City and Guanajuato, MX (Oct.); 2010: Toronto (Oct.); 2011: Chapel Hill, USA (March); 2012: Ann Arbor and Boston, USA (March); 2014: Macau, CN (May). 2007 Lypsynch Writer, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), Festival TransAmériques (Montréal) and Théâtre sans frontiers (Tynedale, UK). Co-producers: Cultural Industry (London) and Northern Stage (Newcastle). 2008 The Blue Dragon By: Marie Michaud and Robert Lepage Co-writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) ; La comète (Châlons-en Champagne), La Filature (Mulhouse) and MC2: Maison de la Culture de Grenoble (FR), and Le Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal). 2009 Eonnagata Co-designer, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Sadler’s Wells (London) Co-producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City) and Silvie Guillem. 2011 La tempête (2nd adaptation, French version) By: William Shakespeare Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Ex Machina and Huron-Wendat Nation (Québec-City) 2012 Playing Cards: Spades

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Collective creation by: Silvio Ariola, Carole Faisant, Nuria Garcia, Tony Guilfoyle, Martin Haberstroh, Robert Lepage, Sophie Martin and Roberto Mori. Writer, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), 360° Network and Luminato: Toronto Festival of Arts & Creativity. 2013 Playing Cards: Hearts Collective creation by: Louis Fortier, Reda Guerinik, Ben Grant, Catherine Hughes, Kathryn Hunter, Robert Lepage, Marcello Magni and Olivier Normand. Writer, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), 360° Network and Ruhrtriennale. Needles and Opium (2nd version) Writer, director: Robert Lepage Cast: Marc Labrèche and Wellesley Robertson III Set-design: Carl Fillion Images: Lionel Arnould Sound-design: Jean-Sébastien Côté Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City). Co-producers: Théâtre du Trident (Québec-City), Canadian Stage (Toronto) and Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal). 2015 887 Writer, director, performer: Robert Lepage Producer: Ex Machina (Québec-City), Comissioned by Panamania (Toronto) Co-producers: le lieu unique (Nantes), La Comête (Chalons-enChampagne), Edinbug International Festival, Aarhus Festuge, Théâtre de la Ville-Paris, Festival d’Automne a Paris, Romaeuropa Festival 2015, Bonlieu (Annecy), Ysarca (Madrid), Théâtre de Lyon, Centre national des Arts Ottawa, Théâtre du Nouveau Monde (Montréal), SFU Woodward’s Cultural Programs (Vancouver).

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Opera, Rock Shows And Circus (Selected) 1992 Bluebeards Castle By Béla Bartok Erwartung By Arnold Shönberg (Double-bill in English version) Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Canadian Opera Company (Toronto) and Brooklyn Academy of Music (New York). 1993 Secret World Tour By Peter Gabriel Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Real World Tours (London). 1999 La damnation de Faust By Hector Berlioz Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec), Saito Kinen Festival (Matsumoto) and Opéra national de Paris (Paris). 2002 Growing Up Tour By Peter Gabriel Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Real World Tours (London). Die Dreigröschenoper (Songspiel)/ (The Three Penny Opera) Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Berliner Festspiele (Berlin) and Carrefour International de Théâtre de Québec (Québec).

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2004 KÀ Permanent show at the MGM Grand Hotel, Las Vegas Original concept by Robert Lepage Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Cirque du Soleil. 2005 1984 By Loren Maazel (based on George Orwell’s 1984) Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Ex Machina (Québec-City), Big Brother Productions and The Royal Opera (London). 2007 The Rake’s Progress By Igor Stravinsky Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie (Brussels), Ex Machina (QuébecCity), Opéra national de Lyon, San Francisco Opera, Royal Opera House Covent Garden (London) and Teatro Real (Madrid). 2008 La Damnation de Faust (2nd adaptation) By: Hector Berlioz Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Metropolitan Opera (New York), Saito Kinen Festival (Matsumoto, Japan), Opéra national de Paris and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). 2009 The Nightingale and Other Short Fables By Igor Stravinsky Director: Robert Lepage

Chronology of Robert Lepage’s Directorial Work (1979-2015)

305

Producers: Canadian Opera Company (Toronto), Festival d’art lyrique d’Aix-en-Provence; Opéra national de Lyon and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). 2010 Totem Creator and Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Cirque du Soleil. Das Rheingold: Der Ring des Nibelungen By: Richard Wagner Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Metropolitan Opera (New York) and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). 2011 Die Walküre: Der Ring des Nibelungen By: Richard Wagner Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Metropolitan Opera (New York) and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). Siegfried: Der Ring des Nibelungen By: Richard Wagner Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Metropolitan Opera (New York) and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). 2012 Götterdammerung: Der Ring des Nibelungen By: Richard Wagner Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Metropolitan Opera (New York) and Ex Machina (QuébecCity). The Tempest By Thomas Adès, based on W. Shakespeare’s homonymous play Director: Robert Lepage

306

Appendix A

Producers: Festival d’Opéra de Québec (Quebec), The Metropolitan Opera (New York), Opera Wiener Staatsoper (Vienna) and Ex Machina (QuébecCity) 2015 L’Amour de loin (original French version) Libretto by Amin Maalouf Director: Robert Lepage Producers: Festival d’Opéra de Québec and Ex Machina (Québec-City), The Metropolitan Opera (New York).

Cinema 1995 Le confessionnal (original French version) The Confessional (English version subtitled) Scriptwriter, director: Robert Lepage Producers: Cinémaginaire (Montréal), Enigma Films (London) and Cinéa SA (Paris). 1996 Le polygraphe (original French version) The Polygraph (English version subtitled) Scriptwriter, director: Robert Lepage Producers: In Extremis Images inc. (Montréal), Road Movies Dritte Produktionen GmbH (Berlin) and Cinéa SA (Paris). 1997 Nô (original French version) Nô (English version subtitled) Scriptwriter, director: Robert Lepage Producer: In Extremis Images inc. (Montréal). 2000 Possible Worlds (original English version) Mondes Possibles (French version subtitled) Director: Robert Lepage

Chronology of Robert Lepage’s Directorial Work (1979-2015)

307

Producers: In Extremis Images inc. (Montréal) and The East Side Company (Toronto). 2003 La face cachée de la Lune (original French version) Far Side of the Moon (English version subtitled) Director, writer, actor: Robert Lepage Producer: La face cachée de la Lune Inc. (Québec). 2013 Triptique (original French version) An adaptation of the play Lipsynch Writer, co-director: Robert Lepage Producer: Les Productions du 8e Art (Québec). 2014 Michelle (short film) Adaptation of segment of the theatrical epic Lipsynch. Co-director: Robert Lepage Co-producers: Les Productions du 8e Art and The National Film Board of Canada. Marie (short film) Adaptation of segment of the theatrical epic Lipsynch. Co-director: Robert Lepage Co-producers: Les Productions du 8e Art and The National Film Board of Canada. Thomas (short film) Adaptation of segment of the theatrical epic Lipsynch. Co-director: Robert Lepage Co-producers: Les Productions du 8e Art and The National Film Board of Canada.

308

Appendix A

Other/Miscelaneous 1986 Le groupe Sanguin (I) (Humour show) Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Michel Sabourin (Montréal). 1987 Le groupe Sanguin (II) (Humour show) Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Michel Sabourin (Montréal). 1999 L'Enfant lumière Video-clip of singer Diane Dufresne (4 min. 50 sec., VHS color, French.) Director: Robert Lepage Producer: Polaris (Montréal). 2000 Métissages Temporary exhibition Le Musée de la Civilisation (Québec-City). 2nd May 2000 to 3rd September 2001 Creator: Robert Lepage 2008 The Image Mill The world’s biggest outdoor architectural video-projection (Québec-City). Original concept: Robert Lepage 2009 Aurora Borealis Permanent lighting installation (Québec-City). Original concept, creator: Robert Lepage

Chronology of Robert Lepage’s Directorial Work (1979-2015)

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2010 Les grands débordements Mural on Ex Machina’s creation centre, animated at night by the constant projection of the Chaudière River (Québec-City) Original concept, artistic director: Robert Lepage. 2015 The Library, at Night Exhibition designed and produced by Ex Machina to celebrate the 10th anniversary of Montréal’s Grand Bibliothèque (Montréal) Director: Robert Lepage.

APPENDIX B AWARDS AND HONOURS

1984 Circulations (theatre): x Best Regards Canadian Production Internationale de Théâtres de Québec.

Award,

Quinzaine

1985 The Dragon’s Trilogy (theatre): x People’s Choice Award, La Presse, Montréal x Best Direction, Fondation de Théâtre du Trident (awarded in 1986) x Best Show of the Year, Le Cercle des critiques de la Capitale, Ottawa (awarded in 1987) x Best Show of the Year, Québec Theatre Critics Association (awarded in 1987) x Grand Prize, Festival de Théâtre des Amériques, Montréal (awarded in 1987) x People’s Choice Award, Québec Theatre Critics Association (awarded in 1988) x Dora Mavor Moore Prize for Best Directing, category “Drame et Comédie,” Toronto Theater Alliance (awarded in 1989) x Dora Mavor Moore Prize for Best Scenography, category “Drame et Comédie,” Toronto Theater Alliance (awarded in 1989) x Best Directing, Festival of Ciudad de Mexico, Mexico-City (awarded in 1990) x 2nd People’s Choice Award, 30th anniversary of Time Out London (awarded in 1998). Pierre Curzi Trophy – “Recruit of the Year” awarded by Ligue Nationale d’Improvisation, Québec.

311

Awards and Honours

1986 Vinci (theatre): x Best Directing, Québec’s Theatre Critics Association Awards x Best Production, Québec’s Theatre Critics Association Awards x Best Sound realization, Québec’s Theatre Critics Association Awards x Best Creation, Conseil de la culture de Québec x Best Production, Nyon Festival [Switzerland] (awarded in 1987) x “Coup de Pouce” for best production, Festival Off Avignon [France] (awarded in 1987). Profil du Public Award – Ligue Nationale d’Improvisation, Québec. 1987 Métro–Star Award awarded to the most internationally acclaimed artist by Métro–Star Gala, Montréal. Personality of the week, La Presse, Montréal. O’Keefe Trophy Star of the Season (1986–1987) – Ligue Nationale d’Improvisation, Québec. 1988 Le songe d’une nuit d’été (theatre) x Gascon–Roux Award Best Stage Direction Gémeaux Award for Best Television Program in the category Performing Arts for La Soirée de l’Impro (1987–1988) – Ligue Nationale d’Improvisation, Québec. 1989 La vie de Galilée (theatre): x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Directing, Montréal. Polygraph (theatre): x Best Directing Time Out Award, London x Prize Floyd S. Chambers Conseil des arts Toronto (awarded in 1991).

312

Appendix B

1990 Tectonic Plates (theatre): x Best Lighting for Lucie Bazzo and Robert Lepage awarded by the Association québécoise des critiques de théâtre. Knight of the Order of Arts and Literature awarded by Le Ministère de la Culture, des Communication, des Grands Travaux et du Bicentenaire, Paris. 1991 Needles and Opium (theatre): x "La Biche"Award, La Bande des six, Radio Canada. x Lawrence Olivier - nomination for Outstanding achievement, London, (awarded in 1993) x Prize Floyd S. Chambers for best Canadian play, Conseil des arts, Ontario, (awarded in 1995). 1992 National Bank Award for more than 10 years of theatrical work and originality – Association québécoise des critiques de théâtre (AQCT), Québec. 1993 The Blue–Beard Castle/ Erwartung (opera): x Edinburgh International Critics Award, Edinburgh Festival (Music section), Edinburgh x Scotsman’s Hamada Festival Award, UK. x Outstanding Production of a Musical, Edmonton Opera, (awarded in 2006). Prix de la Critique Francaise for: Coriolan, Macbeth, La tempête, Le Polygraphe and Les Aiguilles et l’opium. 1994 National Arts Centre Award – Governor General Performing Arts Awards Foundation, Ottawa.

313

Awards and Honours

1995 Le confessionnal (feature film): x Opening movie at "Quinzaine des Réalisateurs," Cannes Film Festival x Rogers Award, Best Canadian Screenplay, Vancouver International Film Festival. x Genie Award for Best Motion Picture, Genie Awards Gala x Genie Award for Best Achievement in Art Direction, Genie Awards Gala x Genie Award for Best Achievement in Direction, Genie Awards Gala x Claude–Jutra Award for Best Direction of a first Feature Film, Genie Awards Gala x SARDEC Award for Best Screenplay, Rendez–vous du cinéma Québécois, (awarded in 1996) x International critics Award (FIPRESCI), Istanbul International Film Festival. Officer de l‘Ordre de la Pléiade awarded at the 21st Session of the Assemblée internationale des parlementaires de langue française, Québec. Officer of the Order of Canada awarded by Governor General of Canada, Ottawa. 1996 The Seven Streams of the River Ota (theatre): x Best Production of the year, La soirée des Masques, Montreal x Dora Mavor Moore Award for Best Directing, Toronto Theater Alliance x Dora Mavor Moore Award for Best Production, Toronto Theater Alliance. Recipient of the “Art, lettres et spectacles” Award, 13e Gala d'Excellence de La Presse, Montréal. 1997 Le polygraphe (feature film): x International Critics Award (FIPRESCI), Istanbul International Film Festival.

Appendix B

314

Le songe d'une nuit d'été (theatre): x Award for Best Direction, Gala des Prix d'Excellence des Arts et de la Culture, Québec. 1998 Nô (feature film): x CITY TV Award, Best Canadian Feature Film “Perspective Canada Series,” Toronto International Film Festival x Best Canadian Film Award, Cinéfest / Sudbury's International Film Festival, (awarded in 1999). 1999 Officier de l’Ordre National du Québec. 2000 Le Prix d’honneur 2000 for his outstanding career spreading internationally from Québec awarded by the Société des relations internationales de Québec. 2001 Possible Worlds (feature film): x Special Jury Award, La Semana de Cine experimental de Madrid. The far side of the moon/ la face cachée de la lune (theatre): x Critics Circle Theatre Award for Best Director, London x Evening Standard Award for Best Play, London x Barclay’s Theatre Award for Best Touring Production in the United Kingdom, London x Paul Hébert Award for Best Actor, Gala des Prix d'Excellence des Arts et de la Culture, Québec-City x Award for Best Director, Gala des Prix d'Excellence des Arts et de la Culture, Québec City x Best Original Text, La Soirée des Masques, Montréal x Best Director, La Soirée des Masques, Montréal x Best Production, La Soirée des Masques, Montréal x Best Stage Design, La Soirée des Masques, Montréal x Time Out Award for Outstanding Production, London

315

Awards and Honours

x The Golden Mask Award for best foreign production presented in Russia, (awarded in April 2007). Recipient of World Leaders: Festival of Creative Genius, Harbourfront Centre, Toronto, October. Recipient of Canada’s Walk of Fame for his impact on the heritage of Canadian Culture, Toronto.

2002 Recipient of Chevalier of the Legion of Honour, French Embassy, Ottawa, March. Recipient of Académie des Grands Québécois, La Chambre de commerce et d’industrie du Québec Métropolitain, April. Recipient of The Queen’s Golden Jubilee Medal, Heritage Canada, April. Recipient of Herbert Whittaker Drama Bench Award for outstanding contribution to Canadian theatre, Canadian Theatre Critics Association, Toronto, November. 2003 La trilogie des dragons (2nd generation) (theatre): x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Direction, TNM, Montreal, season 2002-2003. x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Lighting (idem) x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Stage Set (ibidem) x Audience prize, Festival of Theatre SPOTKANIA, Varsaw [PL]. Recipient of Prix Denise–Pelletier, distinction awarded the Government of Québec in the fields of performing arts, Québec-City, November. Recipient of Gascon–Thomas Award for exceptional contribution to the growth of theatre in Canadian theatre, National Theatre School of Canada, Montreal, November. 2004 La face cachée de la lune (feature film): x Genie Award for Best Adaptation, 24th Genie Awards Ceremony, Toronto, May x Genie Awards for Best Adapted Screenplay (idem) x Bayard d’Or for Best Film, 19th Namur International Frenchspeaking Film Festival

316

Appendix B

x International Critics Award (FIPRESCI), International Film Festival of Berlin, February x Best Artistic Direction, Soirée des Jutras, Québec x Cooper Wing Award for Best Foreign Film, Phoenix Film Festival, Arizona, (awarded in April 2005) x The Fort Lauderdale International Film Festival Award for Best Script, Florida, (awarded in September 2005) x Best Narrative Feature, Durango Independent Film Festival, Colorado, (awarded in March 2006) Recipient of Hans Christian Andersen Prize 2004 awarded to an exceptional artist who contributes through his work to honoring Hans Christian Andersen internationally. 2005 Le Project Andersen/ The Andersen Project (theatre): x Le Trident Season’s Ticket-Holder Prize for Best Performance, Québec, September x Prix des Masques for Best Québec Production: People’s Choice Award, La Soirée des Masques, Québec, December x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Director, TNM, Montreal, season 2005-2006 x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Lighting (idem) x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Stage Design (ibidem) x Gascon–Roux Award for Best Male Performance, (ibidem) x Capital Critics Circle Award for best production from outside Ottawa, Gatineau, Ottawa, (awarded in October 2006) x Prix Reconnaissance for the exceptional quality of his interpretation, for the concept and innovative production, Centre National des Arts du Canada (CNA), (awarded in October 2007) x City of Milan Award for best international theatre production presented in Milan during the season 2008-2009, Vila Realle, Milan, (awarded in November 2009) x Dora Mavor Moore Award for Outstanding Touring Production, Toronto Alliance for Performing Arts, Toronto, (awarded in 2011) x Elliot Norton Award for Outstanding Design, Boston Theater Critics Association, (awarded in 2012).

317

Awards and Honours

Hall of Fame Induction, Ligue nationale d’improvisation, Montreal, May Prix de la Francophonie, Societé des auteurs et compositeurs dramatiques, Paris, June. Samuel-de-Champlain Award for the recognition of Québec Culture in France and Québec, France-Canada Institute, Paris, November. Stanislavski Award for the contribution to world theatre and the notoriety of his productions La trilogie des dragons, Les sept branches de la riviere Ota and The Busker’s Opera, Moscow, December. 2006 Prix de la Francophonie, Societé des auteurs et compositeurs dramatiques, Paris, June. 2007 European Theatre Prize, Conseil de l’Europe: Festival de l’Union des théâtres de l’Europe, Thessaloniki, Greece, April. The Ruby Award for outstanding achievement and leadership in the realm of Canadian opera, both onstage and behind the scenes, Board of Directors of Opera Canada (magazine), Toronto, October. Moskovski Komsomlets Award – “The Sensation of the Year” for The Dragon’s Trilogy, far side of the moon, The Andersen Project and Busker’s Opera, Moskovski Komsomlets (daily Russian newspaper), Moscow Chekhov Festival, July. 2008 Ka (circus): x THEA Award for Outstanding Achievement, Themed Entertainment Association (TEA), USA, March. The Nightingale and Other Short Fables (opera): x Dora Mavor Moore Award for Outstanding Production, Toronto Alliance for the Performing Arts, Toronto, June x Claude Rostand Award for best lyrical production created outside Paris, Syndicat de la critique de France, (awarded in 2011) x Opus Award – “Concert of the Year-Québec,” Conseil Québécois de la musique, Québec-City, (awarded in 2012) The Image Mill (architectural projection): x Prix Medias, category “Artisan,” 14th edition of Dejeuner des Medias, Québec, November.

Appendix B

318

La Face cachée de la Lune (book): x Prix des Abonnés, Québec-City Library network, Québec, October. Le Soleil/Radio-Canada: Prize in Arts and Culture in 2007, Québec, March. Grand Prix de la Solidarite for contribution to the cultural development of Québec-City during its 400th anniversary, Québec, April. 2009 The Blue Dragon (theatre): x Gaston Roux Award for Best Production, TNM, Montreal, October x Politika Award, Politika (daily newspaper), Belgrade International Theatre Festival (BITEF), October. The Governor General’s Performing Arts Award, Lifetime Achievement Award for outstanding contribution to the cultural life of the country. National Arts centre, Ottawa, May. 2010 Lipsynch (theatre): x The Golden Mask for best foreign stage play performed in Russia in 2009, The Golden Mask Festival, Moscow, April x Dora Mavor Moore for Outstanding Touring Production, Toronto Alliance for the Performing Arts, June x Ubu Award for best foreign production presented in Italy during the season 2009-2010 at the Napoli Teatro Festival, Milan. The Rake’s Progress (opera): x Franco Abbiati Award for best opera production at Teatro alla Scalla for the season 2008-2009, Musical Critics of Italy, Milan, May. Grand Prix du Tourisme Québecois 2010 – Region de Québec: Tourism Personality Award, Québec-City Tourism, March. 2011 Prix de l’Ordre de la Pléiade, Grade de Commandeur, Québec. Médaille de la Ville de Québec for all the artist’s achievements, QuébecCity.

319

Awards and Honours

Companion of the Order of Canada awarded for international contribution to the performing arts as an actor, producer and director, Order of Canada, Ottawa. 2012 Eugene McDermott Award in the Arts, Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), Boston, USA. Académie des Lettres du Québec Medal for contribution to the literacy and intellectual life of Québec. Diamond Jubilee Medal for significant achievement and remarkable service as a member of the Order of Canada. Recipient of Prize de la Fondation de l’Opéra de Québec for The Tempest, Festival d’Opéra de Québec. 2014 Tenth Glenn Gould Prize for unique lifetime contribution that enriched the human condition through the arts, Glen Gould Foundation, Toronto. 2015 Compagnon des Arts et des lettres du Québec awarded by the Conseil des Arts et des lettres du Québec for this contribution, commitment and dedication to developing, promoting and extending the influence of the Québec culture.

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