Tristissimo (CEC) by Amber Botteley

An interesting piece of physical theatre awaits you in Tristissimo.

A skillful duo of performers combine various physical techniques along with some spoken word, thought provoking sound effects and a hell of a lot of strength.

Each present their bodies in such distorted ways that it is difficult to see them as people, an effect profound however this distortion did nothing for the audience’s connection with the characters.

I am certain a great amount of work and effort has been put into this production, however, I could not help but be distracted with the seemingly unnecessary wigs and whether a better choice of attire would be suited for the female of the two – who seemed equally concerned with the length of her skirt.

The costumes are, of course, not the be all and end all of a performance, but I found them jarring while watching this and, to be honest, I didn’t get why there was a need for a seemingly never ending plait dragging across the stage… Maybe I have missed something here? Where was my golden braid to carry me through?

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t expected to be handed everything on a plate, but a little morsel here and there would have sufficed.

After much thought, it occurred to me that this was a piece about a couple being torn apart, but sadly this is where my insight ended. I felt very ‘left in the dark’ with the concept. I wasn’t sure what was happening most of the time, and unfortunately that created somewhat of a barrier preventing me from enjoying it to the full.

That being said, it did make me feel something, perhaps the elusive male figure, or those mental images of war and conflict. I was forced to begin making up my own stories about these characters, occasionally aided by their components. ‘This may have been what they wanted you to do, though’, you say.

 

True, but if so, it may have needed to have been a little clearer for me. However talented this duo is – which they undoubtable are – I couldn’t quite grasp the idea of it all.

Tristissimo by CEC (Review by Elliot Roberts)

BANG

The company of Tristissimo are standing before us.

The company of Tristissimo are standing naked before us.

Their backs are turned, their bodies stretched, like statues.

Their backs are turned, their bodies stretched, like naked statues.

Their heads are covered by a mass of blonde dreadlocks.

Their heads are covered by a mass of mop-like blonde dreadlocks.

And then, suddenly, things are different. They are sensitive about their naked bodies, coquettish even. A walk of shame almost, steps are re-trodden, apparel is re-donned. The performers skate about each other’s bodies, filling the dark and empty space with smatterings of routines, fragments of movements, and dashes of the uncanny.

From tightly woven partner-work intercut with Audrey Hebrun-esque cries of elation, come more abstract touches: a single golden braid of hair stretching beyond the far reaches of the stage sweeps our hero away, and a hair-covered sunglasses-wearing figure edges closer and closer to their own monstrous shadow.

In taking their inspiration from Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, CEC flicker between the stark materiality of a tracksuit, a smart-casual outfit, and a shimmering white backdrop and the romanticist strains of Wagner’s sumptuous opera as it washes over the bodies of the fallen lovers.

At the halfway point things become a touch more meditative, with spoken dialogue taking a philosophical turn, blending maxims with song lyrics above the sounds of battle. At this point, one particular maxim seems to strike a particularly apt note for the piece: “are we anything or everything in this particular moment?”

There is a porous quality to the meditative and at times distinctly soothing movement of the performers, with the Wagnerian source sitting at more of an undercurrent than a binding narrative it would seem. The reverse side of this same coin however is a possible loss of specificity in favour of universality, in which the seemingly worldliness of the movements negates their grounding in the humanity of its subject.

Tristissimo languishes both in space and time, moving from small-scale partner work to large scale shadow play, at times rushing through, at others grinding to a halt. Somewhere however Tristissimo appears to retreat into its’ worldliness, away from particular and into the universal, with the effect of feeling more and more like an inside joke.

CEC company made their mark in Edinburgh at the 2014 Fringe: their Maria Addolorata was a wild, sexy duet that featured spirituality, sexuality and live beer drinking. They kick off manipulate 2015 with a visit to the Big Burns Supper, reprising Maria, before arriving at the Traverse with a new piece that takes Wagner’s final opera as a cue for a few thoughts on the tension between good and evil.

‘Wagner is very emotional and tragically ended,’ notes Carlo Massari, one of the two founders of CEC, ‘As usual, we want to ironically approach the universal dichotomy between good and evil.’ Tristissimo, the second chapter of their Trilogy of Pain is a duet that takes their mission to ‘pair down theatricality and bring truth to the stage’ and relates it to the legend of Tristan and Isolde.

‘We aim at finding rather a crude and straightforward language so that people can be shaken by it while recognising and acknowledging themselves as part of a humanity that belongs to them and that they belong to,’ Massari continues. Like Maria, Tristissimo is a duet, and is perhaps the most obviously dance based piece in the programme. Yet the dynamism of the choreography, and CEC’s insistence on chasing ‘truth’ on stage, ensures that it has more in common – at least emotionally –  with the rough energy of circus than traditional ballet or even contemporary.

 

‘Our dramaturgy stems from the body,’ Massari says. ‘It is based on physical relations and actions aimed at codifying feelings and stories of life and within our society.’ This approach is what lends their work a sense of veiled – or sometimes explicit – violence. The connection to Wagner’s vision – of total theatre, that attacks the audience through immensity and intensity – lies in the shared concern for grand themes and a theatre that is immediate and relevant. Massari’s vision for the company may lack the empire building fanaticism of Wagner (who had a special opera house built for his works), but refuses meek ambition.

‘Our new works are engendered by intuitions, by the desire to speak about something in particular like visions of today’s world, hope, or future pessimisms.’