Summerworks review - Artaud: un portrait en decomposition

Artaud: un portrait en decomposition
Written by Adam Paolozza, Michelle Smith and Antonin Artaud
Directed by Michelle Smith
Featuring Adam Paolozza and Coleen MacPherson

Photo Credit: Ellen MacPherson

Deceptively simple in concept but mystically charged, Adam Paolozza and Michelle Smith’s production of Artaud: un portrait en décomposition stimulated both mind and spirit. It was delightfully visceral for such a seemingly dark-themed play.  Bare bones yet meaty, this was the type of theatre that got under your skin, hitting both hard and fast. In fact, this play reminded me of the essential elements necessary for great theatre, budgets notwithstanding.

The play wove together Artaud’s letters and writing as well as those of colleagues and friends, with bits of fictional stitching thrown in. Antonin Artaud (1897 – 1948) was active in theatre, literature and cinema in France in the 1920’s and 30’s as actor, playwright and advocate. Described as the surrealist that the Surrealists disavowed, he waged a never-ending battle to be seen and heard. Probably best known for championing the Theatre of Cruelty, Artaud insisted that emotional truths drive each play. Despite the logistical nightmares present in both his treatises and practices, he is cited with influencing the later movement of Absurdist Theatre and, specifically, masters such as Ionesco and Pinter.

Adam Paolozza gave an exhilarating and vitally dexterous performance, carefully balancing nuanced meditations with Artaud’s infamous outbursts. At the same time, his acting created a crescendo which operated in conjunction with the play’s movement from passionate intellectualism to wrenching biography. No small feat, Artaud: un portrait en decomposition became the theatrical actualization of Artaud’s inner world. As Artaud’s mental health began to fail he became a desperate individual crying in an increasingly isolated wilderness, a mere shell of the original artist/genius self.

With its stark lighting, minimalist design and deliberately precise tempo this play was not only true to the spirit of Artaud’s work but practically conjured his ghost. The play’s few meagre props were continually transformed over and over again with magical ease. The central piece, a rocking chair, became an ever increasing visual symbol of the menacing turns that were about to take place. Artaud: un portrait en décomposition was truly a haunting experience.

Killer Joe: William Friedkin at his finest

Raucous, raunchy and funny as hell, Killer Joe is a deliciously twisted thriller/crime drama. Veteran director, William Friedkin (The Exorcist, The French Connection), not only flourishes in familiar territory but skillfully flips his favourite schematic inside-out and on its head. Even die-hard fans will be surprised by this film’s truly jaw-dropping mix of sadism and hilarity.

Based on the play by Pulitzer and Tony Award winner Tracy Letts, Killer Joe follows Chris (Emile Hirsch), a young drug dealer in dire straits, who hires Joe Cooper the crooked cop (Matthew McConaughey) to kill his mother for her insurance payout. He’s not a bad kid, really – Mom stole his drugs before he could sell them and now his boss wants the money or his life. It seems like a simple enough plan to hire Joe, who’s well-known for moonlighting his off-beat gig. The trouble is, the titular detective wants his money up front and the kid doesn’t have it. So Joe sets his sights on Chris’ hauntingly innocent sister, Dottie (Juno Temple), as collateral. When this Stockholm Syndrome subplot slams into the Cinderella myth, Friedkin makes your hair stand on end.

Matthew McConaughey‘s riveting turn as the amoral killer cop infuses just the right splash of menace and charm to drive the upheaval in the film’s trajectory. His intimidating presence is all the more unnerving because of Joe’s Southern gentlemanly manner. While Popeye Doyle was obsessed with the rules of being a ‘good cop’ in The French Connection, Joe Cooper demands his clients behave with an old-fashioned sense of decorum. He may be unethical as a cop but he’s still an oddly principled killer.

Killer Joe moves with lightning speed as Friedkin juggles and weaves the various subplots and styles. Gorgeously grim noir aesthetics underpin this journey into the darker core of human existence. But the bleak comedy consistently hovers in the wings, generally activated by Thomas Haden Church’s deadpan delivery as Chris’ father Ansel. As a foil to the manic killer-cop, Ansel provides the necessary tension for the film’s pitch black jokes to land and even jab at times. It’s a perfect combination.

Friedkin’s genius lies in the manner in which the explosive shocks in the action mingle with the subtle and nuanced nods to noir. The menace is always present, the relief is often shrill and the comedy is ominously understated. This fusion is key. One laughs often despite oneself. Even in the downright sadistic moments, one marvels at the film’s originality.