EDINBURGH 2012: BWW Reviews: FLANEURS, Summerhall, August 8

Todd Lewis

"The larger the crowd, the less likely it is that anyone will intervene."

There are two kinds of people in the world, says storyteller Jenna Watt: bystanders and flâneurs. The former are those who see a stranger in the midst of a random attack such as a mugging, and dismiss their responsibility to the stranger in need. The latter, the flâneurs of the world, are those who take action; flâneurs are the vigilante heroes of the modern urban landscape.

With an ingratiating and impish charm that seems natural rather than cultivated for the stage, Watt tells the story of her own battle between bystander and flâneur - to a giraffe. That's right, a tiny, plastic giraffe. Named Jeremy. This little giraffe represents Watt's real life friend, Jeremy, and is one of the many unexpected props and multimedia that Watt effectively utilizes to tell her true-to-life tale. Jeremy (the friend, not the giraffe) was brutally attacked on a train in London. Recordings of Jeremy recounting his harrowing experience had the audience both riveted and horrified. In one instance, Watt impersonated Jeremy, dummy-like, as he regaled his tale, taking on his physicality while letting his own voice do the talking.

Watt uses Jeremy's story to introduce psycho-geographic residue - the idea that events taint our feelings toward physical locales. Ever optimistic, Watt hopes to overcome this residue through reclaiming places of which we are fearful such as the corner where the drunks sit, or the subway underpass, or the muddy shortcut through the park. By becoming flâneurs, Watt's stalwart urban explorer taskforce, we are charged with re-exploring, re-examining, and ultimately restoring order to the place we call home.

Enhancing the conversational, communal nature of the piece, Watt does not endeavour to conceal the mechanics of her show; rather, she speaks plainly to the audience while moving her projector about the playspace or positioning a piece of her set, once even giggling with the audience as a projector slide refused to stay in place. She succeeds in befriending the audience without a modicum of effort, luring us into a sense of friendly security. That casual air of Watt's stage presence, however, conflicts violently with the questions she is forcing us all to ask ourselves: would I have helped Jeremy? Am I a bystander, or am I a flâneur? These
questions lead to a twist ending that will truly leave you dizzied.

To ease the immediate self-abasement from those of us who would have seen Jeremy's attack and run the other way, Watt admits that she, too, is a bystander. She proffered a number of solid excuses for hightailing it from any dangerous situation: she's a small person, she has limited physical strength, and she guarantees that the entire audience can outrun her. Here Watt shrugs - what can I do about it? She relies on the inherent goodness of everyone.

But just before a sense of collective desperation sets in, Watt reminds us that we can reclaim our safety. As flâneurs, we are the guardians of our neighborhoods. We can revitalize the city around us and Windex away some of that psycho-geographic residue that keeps us from living safely and freely.

On the way out of the theatre, Watt hands each audience member a small "flâneur" pin - a token badge of honour to help identify those guardians of our public weal. If nothing else, the pins serve as a poignant reminder of the question no one should ever have to answer, and the only path one can rightfully take.

Flâneurs runs at Summerhall through August 26.

 

To post a comment, you must register and login.